Harkin descended the infirmary steps, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the stone walls. On the lower floor, he spotted Barek and Aylin waiting near the benches.
As soon as she saw him, Aylin jumped up and ran straight into his stomach, only to recoil with a wince.
"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "You're like a rock."
Barek chuckled, rising to his feet. "All patched up, then?"
Harkin nodded. "Yeah. I'm good to go."
"So," Barek began, stretching slightly, "heading to the Lower Town?"
Harkin hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. "I've been thinking about it. Might as well go now."
Barek opened his mouth to offer something, then paused. "Would you like us to... On second thought, it might be better if you went on your own."
"So where exactly do I need to-" Harkin started
"Keep going straight from the Training Hall until you reach the drawbridge," Barek explained. "Once it's lowered, you'll be able to enter the Lower Town through there."
Harkin gave a nod of thanks and turned to leave.
"So, how long do you think you'll be gone?" Barek called after him.
Harkin shrugged. "Dunno. A day, maybe."
Aylin crossed her arms, frowning slightly. "You better come back."
"Anything for the brewing princess," Harkin said with a teasing grin as he walked off.
Aylin huffed and grabbed a pebble, tossing it at his back. It struck his torso but broke on impact immediately.
Harkin didn't even flinch.
Barek laughed quietly as Aylin muttered, "You stupid men and your brute bodies."
Harkin had just stepped off the Training Hall's estate grounds when someone called out behind him.
"Harkin, wasn't it?"
He turned to see Rhess approaching, hands in his pockets, his usual lazy swagger present.
"I wanted to ask if you'd consider joining the Ember Crown," Rhess said.
Harkin blinked. "Huh? What? Oh… really? I'm not sure."
"It's fine," Rhess replied with a faint smile, the scar running subtly down one of his cheeks now vividly exposed. "You can say no if you want I ain't forcing you. Just come back to me when you've made up your mind."
Harkin hesitated, then asked, "Why do you even want to recruit me?"
Rhess paused for a beat, then gave a small nod.
"Simple," he said. "I acknowledge you."
With that, Rhess turned and walked off without another word.
Harkin stood there for a moment stunned. He had never been one for guilds, always preferring to handle things on his own. But now he realized that if he wanted to grow stronger than he was, he needed guidance. And what better option than joining one of the three major guilds of Craigspine?
As Harkin neared the drawbridge, the wooden planks groaning under his boots, the crisp scent of pine and smoke filled the air. He paused as a familiar figure came into view near a merchant stall, sunlight glinting off the polished studs of the man's cloak.
"Heinris," Harkin called out. "That's your name, right?"
The man turned, raising an eyebrow before a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah… so you still remember me?"
Harkin chuckled. "My memory's not that bad. Don't worry."
Heinris stepped away from the stall, the faint jingle of coin pouches marking his movement. "So, what brings you down here?" Harkin asked, genuinely curious.
"Oh, just running errands. Had to pick up some supplies for the Crimson Antlers," Heinris replied with a shrug.
The two stood in brief silence as wind rustled through the trees nearby, carrying distant voices and the creak of wood from the bridge being drawn into place.
As Heinris turned to leave, Harkin raised his voice slightly. "Tell Bjorn to come see me one day."
Heinris glanced over his shoulder, expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded once. "Will do. Will do."
The drawbridge had been fully lowered by now, its thick wooden planks groaning beneath the steady march of boots and wagon wheels. Below, the river thrashed violently—its surface a churning mess of whitewater and jagged currents. The water raged with enough force to tear a man limb from limb, yet the sharp, mineral-rich scent of it carried an odd comfort to Harkin. It reminded him of his time in the forests the times where he was with himself and just the nature around him.
As Harkin made his way down the steep incline of the drawbridge, he found himself surrounded by a sea of people. Merchants, traders, adventurers, and common folk alike moved in both directions. Some ascending towards Craigspine Court and some like him descending into the Lower Town. Carts creaked under the weight of weapons, rare metals, bundles of herbs, and caged creatures.
A few gave off foul stenches that made Harkin dizzy. He covered his nose and narrowed his eyes. Merchants, he noted. Most of them were here to sell their wares up in the Court proper, they could sell weapons, ingredients, parts of slayed beasts.
The drawbridge itself was enormous. Wide enough for several wagons to move side-by-side and long enough that it took Harkin the better part of thirty minutes to reach the other side. As he stepped off, the fog began to curl in behind him, swallowing the bridge from view like it was a secret meant to be hidden.
He was finally in Lower Town.
It sprawled out before him in a maze of tight alleyways, stacked homes, and cluttered shopfronts. Buildings rose like crooked teeth, leaning against one another as if in whispered conversation. The air was thick with spice, sweat, and sizzling oil. Harkin could hear the clang of smiths at work, The cries of babies echoing through the streets.
Children ran barefoot through puddles and kicked around a pile of cloth in the streets. Nearby, two older men bickered loudly over the price of dried Groundling arms.
This was the South Side of Lower Town, Harkin guessed.
And for a long time, when Harkin first came here, he'd believed this was Craigspine Court itself.
Harkin wandered through the winding streets of Lower Town, eyes scanning every passing face in search of someone. Anyone. Who resembled Solène. It had been so long, and his memories of her features were beginning to blur around the edges. Still, he pushed forward, hoping something might trigger recognition.
Passing a flower shop tucked between two leaning buildings, he stepped inside on impulse. The air was rich with fragrance—lilies, azures, starblooms. But one flower stood out: an Amberlile, warm and golden, its petals curled like flickering flames. Without hesitation, he bought one. If he found Solène, he'd give it to her.
Stepping out into the street, he barely had time to admire it before his attention was drawn elsewhere.
A figure in turquoise robes dashed past, chasing down two dagger-wielding thieves. The pursuer moved with trained grace, flipping one thief over his shoulder and slamming the other into a cart. With smooth efficiency, he bound them both and hurled them into the back of a metal carriage before riding off in silence.
"A Warden of Moiseíon Guild," Harkin murmured, impressed.
Just as he began to turn away, he felt it.
The pouch at his waist. Gone. The flower. Snatched.
He blinked and caught sight of a figure bolting down the alleyway, messy brown hair bouncing with each step. Young—maybe early twenties at most. Harkin froze for half a heartbeat, stunned.
Then the rage hit.
"Oi, you thieving fucker!" he bellowed, already surging forward.
His boot cracked the stone beneath him as he launched off with brutal speed. He closed the distance in seconds, his shadow looming over the thief.
Nearby onlookers looked shocked at the scene they where witnessing around them here.
The boy glanced back, wide-eyed, but grinned. "Damn, you're faster than I thought," he laughed, voice light, cocky. "Guess I should've taken you seriously."
Harkin reached out—fingers inches from grabbing him—
Then the boy twisted mid-run, stuck his tongue out mockingly, and in a flash of blue shimmer, vanished.
Harkin's hand grabbed only air. He skidded forward, lost balance, and dropped hard onto the cobblestone.
"What in the fuckin-" he spat, slamming his fists into the ground. "How the hell—?!"
It hit him. He'd lost the pouch. He'd lost the flower. All because of some random runt.
Frustrated, Harkin tilted his head back and let out a long, primal shout just to calm himself.
The people nearby began walk away, assuming Harkin was some kind of madman.
Harkin felt a soft touch on his shoulder.
"Excuse me do you happen to be called Harkin." A soft familiar voice asked.