As Finn was lost in his own delusional comparison in his head, Althea noticed a major point with the Preceptor giving them the tracking beetles.
"Does this mean you mean to allow us roam around on our own?"
Her question brought Finn's attention back to the conversation.
That's true… He realized. For the kind of firm conviction the Preceptor showed — prepared to battle the Queen of Aethelos to the last end — simply to protect the knowledge they held, he was being awfully casual since they left Aethelos.
In fact, he hadn't so much as asked them a single question regarding what they saw, or what caused the anomaly, almost as if he didn't care, or he already knew the answer. And now, within a new city where spies and other major powers who had gotten information about what went down in Aethelos were surely plentiful, he was willingly allowing them the freedom to roam the city on their own?
It just didn't make sense.
The Preceptor snorted in what seemed to be amusement. He could clearly see the question in their eyes, and most especially in Finn's.
"You both fail to grasp the depth of who a Preceptor truly is," he chuckled. "Perhaps my consideration for you during our journey has given you a false picture of my depth?" He rubbed his chin with a pondering look in his eyes, after which, he offered no further explanation to the query he could see they wanted answered.
He simply turned and waved a hand dismissively, switching to a totally different subject.
"The banquet that holds later tonight is a political theater. Old men posturing, merchants haggling, and noble dignitaries from various countries sniffing for weakness and benefits. It is no place for Initiate Ossuarists like you kids. Besides, I imagine you would find it dreadfully boring."
"There is still a few hours before nightfall. The city of Xanth is a cesspool of greed, but it is also a marvel of the modern world. Go. Explore. See what life looks like outside the walls of duty alone. You're both young. You should enjoy yourselves once in a while."
Finn frowned slightly at the abrupt switch, and he glanced at Althea, who also looked slightly perplexed. The Preceptor was treating them like children on a field trip rather than witnesses to the calamity-level event they had seen.
But before either of them could press for clarification, the old man raised a finger and dished out a warning.
"However," he stated, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked back at the city skyline in the far distance. "Do not let your guard down. The influence of the Chain of Scoria runs in the backscenes of this city, deeper than the merchants like to admit. There are eyes everywhere."
He turned back to face them with a serious expression.
"Limit your movement to the middle district at least. And even if you'll go to the lower districts, avoid the lower docks and the island borders. And if anyone asks... you are merely travelers from the east."
"Understood, Preceptor," Althea nodded, dropping the subject. If the Preceptor said she should go have fun, then she would. She was a well-trained, certified Initiate rank Ossuarist, following orders was second nature to her. Especially considering she understood better what Elias' Preceptor Rank stood for, if only by theoretical knowledge.
Finn, on the other hand, had no such understanding. He hesitated for a moment longer, sensing there was a deeper game being played here — perhaps the Preceptor wanted them to be seen, to act as bait, or simply to show that the Ossuary had nothing to hide. Also, what was that 'Chain of Scoria' thing the Preceptor mentioned?
Finn had a lot of questions, but he realized wasn't going to get an answer to any of them… at least not today.
"Understood," he echoed after a few seconds of deliberation.
"Go then," the Preceptor waved a hand, turning back to the window to watch the sun begin its descent. "And try not to start a ruckus before dinner.
.
.
.
Ten minutes later, Finn and Althea stepped out of the upper district after taking a pod ride to the district gates, escorted by Feugeur family guards who promptly and curtly returned after delivering them to their destination.
Immediately they both stepped out of the upper district, passing through the heavily guarded checkpoint where their identities had been explained, the transition was jarring. Compared to the upper district, the middle district was a full-on sensory overload.
The air smelled of exotic spices and the distinct, musky scent of magical beasts. Above them, in the sky a crisscross of flying artifacts and tamed magical beasts weaved their way above the roofs of the middle district.
Finn and Althea walked further in coming up to the first merchant stalls. To their left, a street vendor from Mechanus was selling glowing, self-playing instrument artifacts that chimed with synthetic melodies.
To their right, a Feraxian beast tamer was haggling loudly with a merchant over a crate of what looked like swirling, sapphire-blue griffin eggs.
Finn took a deep breath of the humid, energetic air, and for the first time in months he felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation bubbling up in his chest.
Curiousity… and excitement.
The same feeling he got whenever he traveled to a new city back on earth. The eagerness to explore.
"Where to first?" Althea asked, scanning the crowd with a mix of vigilance and wonder. It was the first time Finn had seen her look at something with so much undisguised curiousity.
Finn looked down the long street and his gaze landed on the massive, bustling market square it led to, where artifacts and goods from all three continents seemed to be converging.
"Let's see what this 'advanced civilization' has to offer," Finn grinned, looking over his black Ossuarist uniform and glancing at the clothing wares he could spot in the distance. "Maybe I can find something to fix my 'country bumpkin' look?"
"I believe the term was monk," Althea remarked dryly, though her eyes showed a surprising playfulness. "We could actually use a change of attire. Blending in was part of the Preceptor's orders, after all."
Finn chuckled. "Lead the way then, Lady Althea."
They both stepped deeper into the crowd, allowing the current of bodies moving about to pull them toward the heart of the market square. For a few minutes, Finn immersed himself into the experience, flitting his gaze about at the various goods and weapons being sold.
But suddenly, his immersion was broken by the sharp, unmistakable feeling of a stare at the back of his neck that made his hair rise.
The smile on his face was slowly wiped off, but Finn still acted coolly, trying not to trigger whoever it was that was staring at him. He simply turned his head casually, pretending to scan the stalls by his side, while he raked through the crowd from his peripheral vision.
There. Finn finally noticed the person that stood out, and he turned his head and locked onto them directly.
Twenty meters away, a figure in nondescript gray robes leaned against a wooden beam, looking right at him without shying away. In fact there wasn't the slightest trace of panic in their eyes at getting caught. Instead, the stranger's lips slowly curled up in a slow smile, as if he knew a secret joke that Finn hadn't been told yet.
Finn frowned at the stranger's boldness. He immediately tried to analyze the face, searching his memory to see if he recognized them from the landing pad or the journey.
But suddenly, the stranger smoothly averted their gaze and stepped seamlessly into a passing group of loud mercenaries. One moment they were there, smiling that cryptic smile, and the next, they had vanished into the crowd that milled about.
Finn's eyes about rapidly, searching for the familiar gray robe of the figure through the gaps in the crowd frantically, but it was futile. The figure was gone.
"Finn?" Althea whispered, noticing his sudden tension. "What is it?"
Finn stared at the empty spot with a narrowed gaze, and his mind couldn't help but subconsciously reach for the tracking beetle in his shadow, reassuring him of its presence there.
"The Preceptor was right," Finn whispered softly, then continued to walk forward, abreast with Althea, who had also become more vigilant. "There are eyes watching…"
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