in the small
port town of Neal he was beyond glad to set foot on dry
land.
The town was larger than Karayol, yet
was still little more than a town. Houses were laid out in a
semi-circle around a fountain designed to resemble a gryphon.
Flowers surrounded the base of the fountain whilst tiled pavements
of arrows lined the floor.
“ Lord Eerhart’s men should
be here by tomorrow morning,” said the captain as Seran
disembarked. “I suggest you take a long around and entertain
yourself for a while milord.”
Seran titled his head before walking
away from the small vessel. In the centre of the city it was lively
to say the least. Children played with rags that had been filled
with sawdust or other materials to create balls. Some of them
played hopscotch in the streets, whilst in the windows of the
larger, more elegant windows Seran could see yet more children
playing with real toys such as rocking horses.
Men and women moved around the town
with steamcarts, trundling along side by side in the cabin whilst
the poorer people simply watched in envy. Nothing is really that
different from Alexandria anyway. What good did their independence
give them? He made his way across the central area to the small
chapel on the right of the semi-circle settlement. A pair of small
freighter airships flew across the sky as he walked, and the sound
of hammer on metal caught his attention as a young engineer was
moulding the different parts of a new creation.
Inside the chapel were long wooden
benches half filled with men and women praying to the Arcana. A
priest stood before them with a large brass organ behind him. The
chapel was, however, rather on the small side. Nevertheless, Seran
took a seat in the sermon as it had been days since he last prayed.
The priest began the rehearsed speech they all used to start a
sermon.
“ Today we gather to pay
respects to the Arcana, the engineers of life and of the world. We
give respect and love to the engineers who keep the motor of our
world turning so that we may live.
We pay homage to the Arcana who guide
us through the trials of our lives and lead us to peace within
their halls.
We give tribute to the Arcana who take
the hated and the vile into the furnace of the world so that they
may redeem themselves by maintaining the world’s engine.
“
Seran listened with only one ear as the
priest droned on. He closed his eyes and cupped his hands on his
knees. Arcana, I beg of you that you allow my task to be
successful. Again and again he asked and prayed as hard as he
could. In all honest it was not the task he had been set that
worried him, but rather the stories he had heard about the
Inquisition.
In the bars people had told stories of
how normal men could not even approach an Inquisitor if he did not
want them to. Instead they were flung backward through the sky.
They were said to be untouchable and yet here he was, in their
lands.
He breathed deeply and rose from the
bench as the priest finished his speech. Outside the same scene
took place, as if it were a picture rather than real life. The only
difference was that now a group of soldiers walked past him and
into the tavern. Well I guess I will not be having a drink for a
while.
Rather than risk going to the tavern,
he decided to investigate the young engineer. Gathering information
was a necessity and engineers were prized men and women. Surely
this young man can tell me something.
He was working on connecting a strut of
metal to his new contraption now, which seemed more like a
miniature train than anything else.
“ Good sir,” said Seran,
“what, may I ask, are you working on here?”
“ Well now, you certainly
speak in a funny way, ‘good sir’. Why do you want to know? You
think I will just tell a stranger about my work?”
Seran coughed a little before changing
his tone of voice. I am supposed to be a Traveller, not a Lord. He
shuffled a little before giving a slight smile.
“ Well my name is Seran,” he
said. “I have