The midnight skies of Vallenport shimmered with an unnatural glow as a small figure slipped through the shadows of the dockyards. No more than ten years old in appearance, the boy moved with an uncanny silence, bare feet leaving no trace on damp cobblestones.

  Most striking were his eyes, ordinary brown one moment, shifting to an iridescent gold the next.

  He had a name, but it was gone now. Seven rarely bothered with such trivialities.

  As the nameless boy reached a quiet corner between stacked crates, he closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them again, they glowed with supernatural intensity, and a golden metallic tome materialised in his small hands. The book's cover bore no title, only intricate patterns that seemed to move when not directly observed.

  He had tracked the anomaly for weeks, following the ripples of power that had disturbed the carefully maintained order of this realm.

  The anomaly was still unknown—a being that should not exist in this age, wielding powers that defied the structured system the Watchers had established millennia ago.

  Probably an outsider.

  A scuffling sound made him snap the book shut. Three children emerged from behind the crates—dirty-faced, hollow-cheeked street orphans with wary eyes.

  'What're you doing down here?' demanded the tallest, a girl of perhaps ten with matted hair and a fierce expression. 'This is our spot.'

  The nameless boy smiled. 'I'm looking for friends. People who know things about the city.'

  The children exchanged glances, uncertain whether to chase him away or listen.

  'I can protect you,' the boy continued. 'Feed you. All I need is information.'

  The kids scoffed, throwing looks at each other. After all, he was smaller than they were.

  'Protect us? What information is worth protecting us for?' asked the girl, suspicious but interested.

  The boy's eyes shifted colour once more. 'About any strange events. Abberations.'

  He opened his book again, and the orphans' expressions went slack as they stared into its pages. Their eyes reflected the same unearthly golden glow as the boy's.

  'You will help me,' he said softly.

  'We will help you,' they repeated in unison.

  The nameless boy smiled again. His network was beginning to form.

  ***

  Another day in Ark Town dawned bright and clear, the second day of the festival in full swing. Tavalor strolled through the bustling marketplace, Little Shadow on his shoulder, Luneth beside him, both taking in the sensory overload of colours, sounds, and scents that permeated the air.

  The crowd was also very different. As a frontier town, it was a mixed group of people. Elves, Humans, Dwarves and a huge population of beastmen. Beastmen making up a small majority.

  Ark Town's festival was proving to be a welcome diversion from the humdrum affairs of Vallenport.

  'You know,' Tavalor remarked, 'I didn't expect to enjoy this festival quite so much. Perhaps I should stay longer.'

  Luneth nodded, her sharp elven eyes scanning the crowd with habitual caution despite her relaxed demeanour. 'I'm sure Emberfist is probably missing us by now.'

  As they rounded a corner, they encountered an unusual spectacle. A crowd had gathered around two stalls set directly opposite each other.

  At one stood a woman with wild, curly hair and a pointed hat—unmistakably a witch by her apparel.

  Across from her, a slender elf with immaculate robes arranged bottles of shimmering green liquid with exaggerated care.

  'Nutritional-Spirits!' the witch proclaimed, holding up a bubbling purple concoction. 'Guaranteed to enhance your vitality, sharpen your mind, and improve your complexion! Three silvers for a month's supply!'

  Nonsense,' the elf responded with disdain. 'Her potions are nothing but coloured water and cheap enchantments. My Elderforest Elixir contains essence from the sacred groves of Lunathiel, harvested under the twin moons. It costs more because it actually works!'

  The witch scoffed loudly. 'Let's see about that, shall we?' She plucked a wilting flower from a nearby pot and dropped it into her purple potion. Within seconds, the flower revived, standing tall with vibrant petals.

  Not to be outdone, the elf poured a drop of her elixir onto a small stone. The stone sprouted tiny green shoots that bloomed into miniature white flowers.

  The crowd gasped and applauded, clearly entertained by the impromptu alchemy battle.

  Tavalor watched with growing interest. 'Now there's a business opportunity,' he mused aloud. 'The profit margins must be excellent.'

  Luneth gave him a sideways glance. 'Interested in becoming an alchemist now?'

  'Not really, just an observation.'

  A strange expression crossed Luneth's face—something between pride and pain.

  After a moment's hesitation, Luneth sighed. 'My family—the Luneth lineage—was once renowned throughout the Elder Isles for our alchemical creations. For seven generations, we held the secret to formulations that no other house could replicate.'

  'I didn't know,' Tavalor said. 'What happened?'

  'What always happens,' Luneth replied, her voice hardening. 'Rivalry. We made powerful enemies who coveted our secrets.'

  They found a quiet spot near a fountain, away from the crowds. Luneth continued her story, her usual guarded demeanour softening with the weight of memory.

  'We declined not because our products failed, but because our family's [A-Class] died. My ancestor was our protector, our strength. When he fell in a "hunting accident"—one arranged by competitors—we became vulnerable.'

  'And that's why you became a rogue,' Tavalor guessed.

  Luneth nodded grimly. 'Someone had to acquire the rare ingredients our work required. The traditional channels were suddenly closed to us—suppliers threatened, caravans raided. I was fourteen when I made my first "acquisition" from a rival house.'

  'How skilled are you at alchemy itself?' Tavalor asked, genuinely curious.

  'Skilled enough,' she replied with a hint of her usual smirk. 'But alchemy is a battle for resources much more than it is a battle of knowledge. I'm still at [C-Class], barely able to defend myself, while Emberfist has already reached [B-Class]. Without strength or backing, an alchemist is just a walking moneybag.'

  That's a perfect way to put it, you could even generalise it. All of cultivation is a battle for resources.

  Tavalor considered this, watching as the witch and elf across the marketplace had escalated their competition, now transmuting small objects to the delight of the growing crowd.

  'Perhaps you should revive your family's traditions,' he suggested. 'You wouldn't lack for protection now.'

  Luneth making and selling alchemical products would be the perfect way to launder my hoard from the Dragon Sanctuary.

  Luneth looked at him sharply. 'Are you offering to be my bodyguard, Lord Tavalor?'

  'I'm offering you my manor as a base of operations, and maybe a partnership,' he clarified. 'If you wanted to pursue this again.'

  For a moment, Luneth's composure cracked, and genuine emotion flickered across her face. Then her mask of casual indifference returned. 'I'll think about it,' she said, but there was a new lightness in her voice.

  The alchemy battle across the square ended in a draw, both competitors selling out their stock to eager festival-goers. Tavalor made a mental note to discuss this further when they returned to Vallenport. If nothing else, he found the business model useful.

  ***

  It was time for Maevi to perform. Curious, they found their way to the third-largest performance grounds in the town, where a substantial crowd had already gathered.

  The Crescent Stage lived up to its name—a sweeping semicircular platform backed by a reflective surface that amplified both sound and light across the audience.

  'How did Maevi become a musician?' Tavalor asked Luneth as they found seats in the section reserved for special guests. It was rare but occasionally Tavalor's [A-Class] adventurer badge had its perks, even in a town where he was relatively unknown.

  Luneth nodded. 'Long after I knew her. Apparently she's quite renowned in Ark Town. The café is just her day job.'

  They settled in, noting that the section around them filled with beastmen of various types—feline, vulpine, and a few rare avian forms. Most nodded respectfully to Tavalor, the badge that he had pinned to his collar forcing them to give him some space.

  'Lord Tavalor!'

  The familiar voice caused them both to turn. Captain Lyrawyn approached with her elven entourage, their crystalline armour replaced with elegant formal attire that somehow managed to look both festive and militant.

  'Captain,' Tavalor greeted them with a nod. 'I didn't expect to see you here.'

  'After meeting with Maevi yesterday, I had to come and see this performance,' she explained, taking a seat beside them. 'I've heard this performer is exceptional, even by elven standards.'

  Before they could converse further, the lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the audience.

  A single spotlight illuminated the centre of the stage, where the female bunny, Maevi now stood—almost unrecognisable from the café owner they'd met earlier.

  Gone was the maid outfit, replaced by an elaborate outfit that blended traditional beastman motifs with more contemporary flair. Her long ears were adorned with delicate silver chains that caught the light as she moved.

  She carried a lute of unusual design, its body fashioned from pale wood with inlays that resembled flowing water. As she positioned her fingers, the instrument seemed to glow faintly from within.

  Then she began to play.

  The first notes floated across the audience like a physical presence, hushing even the most restless children. Maevi's voice, when she began to sing, possessed a quality that defied simple description—clear as crystal but with an emotional depth that seemed impossible from someone so young.

  Her first song spoke of journeys across distant seas, of leaving home and finding it again in unexpected places. The melody wove between melancholy and hope, her paws dancing across the strings with flawless precision.

  Three songs later, she paused, her gaze finding Luneth in the audience.

  'This next piece,' she announced, her voice carrying easily without magical enhancement, 'is dedicated to the forgotten houses, to those who lost their legacy but kept their pride. This is "Echoes of Hope,".'

  Luneth froze beside Tavalor, her usual composure cracking as the first notes rang out.

  The song began softly, like tiny bubbles forming in a cauldron, then built into a complex melody that somehow evoked the precise movements of an alchemist at work. The lyrics spoke of secrets passed through generations, of knowledge preserved against forces seeking to extinguish it.

  By the final verse, tears streaked silently down Luneth's face.

  When the song ended, the audience rose as one in a standing ovation. Maevi bowed deeply, her eyes meeting Luneth's across the distance.

  'How did she know?' Luneth whispered, hastily wiping her cheeks.

  'How could she not know,' Tavalor replied softly, looking at Luneth in surprise. 'Perhaps your family's reputation reached further than you realised.'

  The performance continued for another hour, ranging from playful folk tunes to heart-wrenching ballads. When Maevi finally took her last bow, the applause lasted nearly as long as one of her songs.

  After the performance, they found themselves invited to a celebratory feast in Maevi's honour. The hall was filled with local dignitaries, fellow musicians, and a surprising number of merchants who seemed eager to speak with the talented performer.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  'Lord Tavalor!' Maevi exclaimed when she spotted them, breaking away from a conversation with a portly man in expensive silks. 'And Luneth! I'm so honoured you attended.'

  'Your performance was exceptional,' Tavalor said honestly. 'I'm amazed at your talents. Who knew that a talented alchemist was also an accomplished musician.'

  Maevi's ears twitched with pleasure at the compliment. 'The café pays the bills, but these days music is my passion.' She turned to Luneth, suddenly looking uncertain. 'I hope you didn't mind the song. I grew up hearing stories of the Luneth elixirs—my grandmother swore they saved her life during the Crimson Plague.'

  Luneth managed a small smile. 'It was... unexpected. But beautiful. Thank you for remembering my family's work.'

  Throughout the evening, Tavalor observed as business unfold around them.

  Maevi was approached by representatives from various venues, each offering more impressive terms than the last. The portly merchant, who introduced himself as Lord Hamish of the Golden Sail Trading Company, was particularly persistent.

  'A continental tour,' he proclaimed, his jewelled rings catching the light as he gestured expansively. 'All expenses covered, the finest accommodations, and a personal ship for travel between cities. The world deserves to hear your voice, my dear.'

  Maevi looked overwhelmed but pleased. 'It's a generous offer, Lord Hamish. I'll need time to consider it.'

  As the celebration continued, and people got deeper in their cups, Captain Lyrawyn surprised everyone by borrowing Maevi's lute. The elven captain, usually so stern and formal, settled gracefully on a chair and began to play.

  'This is a song from my homeland,' she explained, her fingers finding notes that seemed impossibly precise. 'We call it "Steadfast Heart." It reminds us to remain true to ourselves, even when the world offers tempting diversions.' Looking at Maevi.

  Her voice was different from Bunny's—deeper, with a resonance that seemed to vibrate in the listener's chest. The song itself was complex, with sudden shifts in tempo and key that would have challenged most musicians, but Lyrawyn performed it flawlessly. She was an elf after all, she had the requisite years of practice.

  When she finished, the hall was silent for a long moment before erupting in applause. Maevi looked at the captain with newfound respect.

  That was incredible,' she said as Lyrawyn returned the lute. 'Would you... would you teach me that song sometime?'

  'Perhaps,' the captain replied with uncharacteristic warmth. 'If you remember that your art belongs to you first, and to your audience second.'

  The celebration continued late into the night, with Tavalor and Luneth finally slipping away as the ninth round of toasts began. As they walked back to their lodgings, Luneth seemed lost in thought.

  'Something on your mind?' Tavalor asked.

  'Just... considering possibilities,' she replied. 'I've spent so long focusing on survival, I'd forgotten there might be other paths.'

  Tavalor nodded, understanding perfectly.

  ***

  The final day of the festival dawned clear and warm, the streets of Ark Town already bustling despite the early hour. Tavalor and Luneth had decided to extend their stay one more day to attend the festival finale, a tradition apparently not to be missed.

  The main square had been transformed overnight. A massive stage dominated one end, decorated with strange, twisting symbols that Tavalor didn't recognise but which caused Luneth to raise an eyebrow.

  'Beast script,' she explained when he asked. 'Very old. Those are ritual marks for the Calling of Voices.'

  Before Tavalor could inquire further, the crowd's murmur rose to a roar as a figure stepped onto the stage. It was a female beast-person, though of no subspecies Tavalor could readily identify. Her features combined aspects of feline and avian, with iridescent feathers growing alongside sleek fur. Her costume was elaborate yet revealing, covered in symbols matching those decorating the stage.

  'Welcome to the Culmination!' she announced, her voice amplified by magic. 'I am Shatterskree, and I will guide you through the final hours of our celebration!'

  What followed was unlike any performance Tavalor had seen.

  Shatterskree's singing was less melodic than Bunny's, instead focusing on rhythm and power. Her lyrics were often strange, speaking of darkness between stars and creatures that lived in the spaces between dreams.

  'This is an ancient beastman tradition,' Luneth whispered to Tavalor as they watched. 'They believe certain songs can bridge the gap between our realm and others. It's mostly symbolic now, but there was a time when such performances may have been true.'

  A remnant of ancient magic? Tavalor through to himself. Another relic from an Upper Realm?

  After several intense numbers that left the audience both exhilarated and slightly unsettled, Shatterskree paused, her feline eyes scanning the crowd with predatory focus.

  'For this next song, I require assistance,' she announced. Her gaze landed unerringly on the section where Bunny sat. 'Ah, there you are, the famous Lady Maevi. Join me, won't you?'

  Bunny's expression of surprise was visible even from a distance, but the crowd's enthusiasm gave her little choice. As she reluctantly made her way to the stage, two assistants emerged with what appeared to be a costume.

  'Oh no,' Luneth murmured, amusement creeping into her voice. 'Poor Bunny.'

  Minutes later, Maevi stood on stage transformed. Her simple festival attire had been replaced by an outfit matching Shatterskree's in style if not exact design—elaborate, flashy, and far more revealing than anything the café owner would normally wear. Her ears were now adorned with jingling bells that rang with her every movement, and her fur had been dusted with some substance that made it shimmer in the sunlight.

  'Now,' Shatterskree purred into the silence, 'we shall perform "Twin Moons Rising," the traditional duet of the Culmination.'

  What followed was either torture or transcendence for Maevi, depending on one's perspective. The song required her to match Shatterskree's intense, almost aggressive style, complete with choreographed movements that sent the bells on her ears jingling in rhythm.

  To her credit, Maevi adapted quickly, her natural musicality allowing her to keep pace despite her obvious embarrassment.

  The crowd loved it, roaring their approval as the duet reached its climax with both performers hitting notes that seemed impossibly high.

  As the final notes faded, Maevi appeared ready to flee the stage, but Shatterskree kept a firm grip on her arm. 'And now,' the feline performer announced, 'a special surprise arranged by our guest!'

  Before anyone could react, Maevi had darted into the audience and returned dragging a horrified-looking Captain Lyrawyn. The elven captain's usual dignity was completely undone as she found herself thrust into the spotlight.

  'Allow me to introduce my elder sister in music, the incomparable Captain Lyrawyn of the Silverwing Guard!' Bunny announced, a mischievous gleam in her eye suggesting this was revenge for her own predicament.

  The crowd's reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Many had witnessed the captain's performance at the feast, and word had spread of her extraordinary talent. Chants of 'Sing! Sing!' filled the square.

  Lyrawyn stood frozen for a moment, her expression cycling through shock, outrage, and resignation in rapid succession. Then, with the dignity that only an ancient elf could muster in such circumstances, she accepted the lute offered by Bunny.

  Her performance was brief but stunning—a fragment of an elven battle hymn that showcased both her voice and instrumental skill. When she finished, the applause was deafening, and Tavalor couldn't help but notice that many in the audience, particularly the male portion, seemed utterly entranced.

  Captain Lyrawyn had unwittingly become a star.

  The festival concluded with a magnificent display of magical fireworks that painted the night sky with scenes from beastman mythology—great hunts, ancestral migrations, and communion with ancient spirits. As the final explosion faded into smoke, the crowd began to disperse, many heading to various after-parties throughout the town.

  Tavalor and Luneth found themselves invited to the most exclusive gathering, held in a private garden belonging to Ark Town's governor.

  They arrived to find Maevi, now thankfully back in her normal attire, surrounded by admirers and business representatives.

  'Lord Tavalor!' she called when she spotted them, excusing herself from the crowd. 'I want to thank you again for attending. Your presence has elevated the festival's prestige considerably.'

  'The pleasure was ours,' Tavalor replied, genuinely meaning it. 'Have you decided on your next steps?'

  Maevi nodded, her expression both excited and apprehensive. 'I've accepted Lord Hamish's offer for the continental tour, but I've negotiated to stay in Ark Town for another month first. The café needs proper management arrangements before I leave.'

  'A wise decision,' Tavalor approved. 'Rushing into new ventures rarely ends well.'

  'You're always welcome in Vallenport,' Luneth added unexpectedly. 'If your tour brings you our way, look me up at Tavalor's manor.'

  Maevi's eyes widened slightly, but she smiled warmly. 'I'd like that.'

  Across the garden, Captain Lyrawyn was having a considerably less pleasant evening. She stood rigid as a half-dozen representatives from various media outlets and performance venues bombarded her with requests.

  Her hand kept drifting to her sword hilt, and Tavalor was genuinely concerned she might draw it on a particularly persistent interviewer who kept asking about her 'beauty regimen.'

  'Should we rescue her?' Luneth asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

  'In a moment,' Tavalor replied, watching the scene unfold. 'It's rather educational.'

  Indeed, the entire experience had been unexpectedly illuminating. The mechanisms of the media industry of Gemworld, the business of art, the small political undercurrents of even a seemingly innocent festival—everything was very similar to what he read bout on Earth. Different world, same patterns.

  He found it oddly comforting.

  ***

  The return to Vallenport was uneventful, hitching a ride on Captain Lyrawyn's Leaf, though Tavalor couldn't shake the feeling of being watched as they walked through the city.

  He dismissed it as paranoia. After the events of Miragos and the meteor the city had gotten busier. There were a lot of new faces wandering around.

  After settling Luneth at the manor, Tavalor retreated to his private study.

  He closed his eyes and entered his system space. Using his senses to look at the watch from the Blind Watchmaker. He carefully examined the timepiece, its craftsmanship impressive even to his inexperienced eye. The real value, however, lay within.

  Tavalor focused his will, and the watch's face began to glow. The hands spun rapidly in opposite directions, and the entire object seemed to expand, creating a doorway into what appeared to be a workshop.

  He stepped through, finding himself in a familiar space that defied conventional dimensions. Workbenches lined walls that stretched farther than should have been possible, covered with tools, components, and half-finished projects. At the centre stood a figure bent over an anvil, hammering rhythmically at a piece of glowing metal.

  'Ah, the master returns,' the Watchmaker said without looking up. Despite being referred to as 'blind,' his awareness of his surroundings was uncanny. 'And not empty-handed, I sense.'

  Tavalor approached, carefully withdrawing a small crystal globe from his robes. Within it, a swirling mist of black energy pulsed angrily.

  'I've brought you something interesting,' Tavalor said, placing the globe on the workbench. 'The captured soul of a being called Veridian. A master alchemist, though also a scoundrel and a thief.'

  The Watchmaker straightened, his blindfolded face turning toward the vial. Though he had no visible eyes, Tavalor felt the intensity of his scrutiny.

  'Fascinating,' the Watchmaker murmured, picking up the vial and holding it to where his ear would be if he had one. 'It screams so eloquently. Yes, I can work with this.'

  Within the vial, the swirling energy seemed to react to the Watchmaker's touch, pressing against the glass as if trying to escape. A faint voice could be heard, muffled but clearly distressed.

  'No! This is outrageous! I am Veridian the Magnificent! I cannot be reduced to a mere component!'

  The Watchmaker chuckled, a sound like rusted gears turning. 'All things serve a purpose in the great mechanism. Yours is simply... changing.'

  'What would you like me to create from him?' the Watchmaker asked Tavalor. 'His knowledge appears vast, particularly in alchemical matters.'

  Tavalor considered for a moment. 'It's for Luneth. So nothing powerful. Something like a reference manual for alchemy. Preserve his knowledge, but feel free to determine the form—gem, ring, book, whatever you think best. Surprise me.'

  'A unique artifact,' the Watchmaker mused, already turning back to his workbench. 'Yes, I believe I understand what you require.'

  'No!' Veridian's voice protested from within the vial, now audibly panicked. 'You cannot reduce me to a part! I am a master, a genius! My knowledge is meant to be wielded, not stolen!'

  The Watchmaker ignored the protests, placing the globe in a cradle that reminded Tavalor of a small guillotine. 'This will take some time. Perhaps you would prefer to wait elsewhere? Soul-forging can be... distressing to observe.'

  Tavalor nodded, stepping back through the doorway into his study. As it closed behind him, he could still hear Veridian's desperate pleas fading into the ether.

  While waiting, Tavalor made his way to the manor's courtyard, where he had prepared space for the fruit trees he'd acquired in the Veridian Realm. Their silver-green leaves shimmered in the afternoon light as he carefully observed them.

  The happiest person seemed to be Little Bee, she was asleep, hugging a fruit the size of her body. A happy smile on her face. She had left him several vials of honey.

  Little Shadow as soon as he saw the vials, chirped happily and grabbed one and flew off to hide in the shadows of the trees somewhere. Tavalor smiled and he put the rest of the vials away in his [system space].

  He had just finished looking at the tree when a tremendous explosion rocked his system space, the sound emanating from the magical watch. Rushing back inside, he found the timepiece vibrating violently, smoke seeping from its edges.

  Just as he reached for it, the watch calmed, returning to its seemingly ordinary appearance. The hands resumed their normal movement, and the face glowed with a satisfied light.

  Focusing his will once again, Tavalor reopened the doorway to the Watchmaker's realm. The workshop was in disarray, tools scattered across the floor, and a large scorch mark blackened the ceiling above the central workbench.

  The Watchmaker stood amidst the chaos, looking remarkably unperturbed, holding a small object in his palm.

  'Ah, you've returned just in time,' he said, his tone suggesting that catastrophic explosions were perfectly normal occurrences in his work. 'The forging is complete.'

  He extended his hand, offering Tavalor a ring of unusual design. It appeared to be greenish tinged gold, but with a fluidity to its surface that suggested it wasn't entirely solid. Tiny symbols etched around its circumference shifted and changed when viewed directly, as if refusing to be pinned down by mere observation.

  Tavalor took the ring carefully, immediately sensing the power contained within it. 'What happened here?'

  'A minor setback,' the Watchmaker replied dismissively. 'The soul was more resistant than anticipated. It required... persuasion.'

  Tavalor studied the ring more closely, using his [Appraisal] ability.

  ===Ring: Alchemist's Archive===

  A ring forged from the soul of a master alchemist. Contains comprehensive knowledge of alchemical formulations, techniques, and rare ingredients.

  Grants the wearer enhanced understanding of alchemical principles and processes.

  Warning: May contain fragments of the original soul's personality.

  =================

  'Impressive,' Tavalor murmured, slipping the ring onto his finger. Immediately, his mind was flooded with snippets of alchemical knowledge—formulas, procedures, ingredient properties—all delivered with the characteristic arrogance that had defined Veridian.

  Using his mental abilities, Tavalor carefully examined the deeper structure of the ring, finding within it vague memory fragments of Veridian's identity still lurking in the shadows. To be safe, he

  activated a sliver of power from the [Primordial Gem] and systematically erased these remnants, leaving only the pure alchemical knowledge intact.

  'What shall we name it?' the Watchmaker asked, his featureless face somehow conveying curiosity. 'A creation of this calibre deserves a fitting title.'

  Tavalor considered for a moment. 'The Unknown Alchemist's Ring,' he suggested.

  The Watchmaker tilted his head. 'Isn't that somewhat disrespectful to its... contributor?'

  'Scammers don't deserve to be remembered by history,' Tavalor replied simply. 'Veridian may have been skilled, but he used that skill to exploit others. Let his knowledge serve a better purpose. But his name should be forgotten.'

  The Watchmaker nodded slowly. 'As you wish.'

  Tavalor checked the ring's stats once more, pleased to see that it had already adopted its new designation.

  ===The Unknown Alchemist's Ring===

  A masterwork artifact containing the distilled knowledge of a forgotten master. Grants comprehensive understanding of alchemical principles, formulations, and rare techniques.

  Enhances the wearer's alchemical abilities by one class level when worn.

  =================

  As Tavalor prepared to leave the workshop, he paused. 'Thank you for your craftsmanship. This will be exceptionally useful.'

  The Watchmaker bowed slightly, his formless face somehow conveying a smile. 'It is always a pleasure to create something unique. Bring me more interesting materials in the future, and we shall see what wonders can be forged.'

  Stepping back through the doorway into his study, Tavalor examined the ring in the natural light streaming through the window. Its surface shimmered with possibilities, the knowledge of centuries now literally at his fingertips.

  This ring is truly a hack item. Tavalor thought. The alchemical knowledge of the founder of the human school of alchemy.

  He thought of Luneth, of her family's lost alchemical legacy.

  Perhaps this ring could help restore what had been taken from her—not as a gift, but as a tool to bind their business partnership together.

  But, that was for the future. For now, she was too weak. As a [C-Class] she didn't have the right to wear the ring. As a [B-Class] she might barely qualify. It was too powerful an item. Too dangerous for her to own it.

  If anybody found out, Tavalor would have to unleash a bloodbath. For now, it would stay with him. When she was strong enough, she would get the ring.

  He put the ring back in his [system space].

  One step at a time.

  He walked back to his favourite spot in his garden and relaxed in his chair.