The cottage doesn't feel like it's trying to kill me anymore.
Alucent pushed open the door to his Steamcottage, and for the first time since arriving, the creaks of the Ironvine Wood felt less like warnings and more like... well, just creaks. The kind of settling sounds any old house makes when it's been through a storm.
Progress. Weird, magical progress, but I'll take it.
The first thing he noticed was the garden. The Glowroses had gone absolutely wild. Where before they'd given off a dim, barely noticeable light, now they blazed like organic street lamps. Their clockwork petals whirred softly as they tracked the fading daylight, emitting that warm, steady glow that made his chest tight with something almost like homesickness.
The Runestorm really did a number on them. Amplified Runeforce, stronger magic, brighter flowers. It's like the whole world got an upgrade and I'm still running on basic settings.
Inside the cottage, though, was a different story. The temporary burst of enhanced light from outside only made the interior dimness more obvious. He had maybe three hours of decent illumination left, and then it was back to fumbling around in the dark like some kind of medieval peasant.
Need consistent light sources. The Glowroses are great, but they're outside and I can't exactly relocate them without killing them.
His eyes fell on the broken Steamsewer in the corner. Victorian-era sewing table merged with a small brass boiler, currently about as functional as a paperweight. But the bones were good. The basic structure was solid Ironvine Wood, and the brass components were just corroded, not destroyed.
And I've got time, scrap metal from the basement, and apparently a talent for improvised rune work. Plus, if I can get this thing working, it's valuable. Trade valuable.
The next few hours disappeared into the kind of focused work that made everything else fade away. Alucent found himself in that zone where his hands moved without conscious thought, cutting and shaping small gears from basement scrap metal, cleaning corrosion from brass fittings, etching Enhancement Runes into the boiler with the careful precision of someone who'd learned that mistakes were expensive.
A rune saved is a rune earned. That's what Elias would have said. Waste not, want not, and always think three moves ahead when it comes to money.
The Enhancement Runes took longer than expected. Not because they were complicated, but because he kept second-guessing himself. Too much power and the boiler might explode. Too little and the whole thing would be useless. But gradually, the familiar golden glow began to build under his fingertips.
When he finally activated the completed repair, the Steamsewer came to life with a soft, satisfied hum. Steam curled gently from the small vents, the needle moved smoothly through its range of motion, and the whole contraption radiated the kind of competent functionality that spoke of quality work.
Perfect. Now I've got something worth trading.
He didn't need a sewing machine. But someone else would. And in a world where the barter system was still the norm in rural areas like Eryndral, having functional Steam-Rune Age technology was like carrying cash.
The walk back to the Marketplaza took longer than expected, mostly because the Steamsewer was heavier than it looked and he wasn't about to risk dropping it on the cobblestones. By the time he spotted Jorin in a less-trafficked corner of the plaza, his shoulders ached and his patience was wearing thin.
Time to see if I'm as good at haggling as I think I am.
Jorin looked up from examining a bolt of expensive-looking fabric, his calculating eyes immediately focusing on the Steamsewer under Alucent's arm.
"Well, well. Our practical friend returns." That smooth voice carried just enough amusement to be insulting. "And bearing gifts, it seems."
Not gifts. Merchandise. There's a difference.
"Fixed this up," Alucent said, setting the Steamsewer down carefully. "Thought you might know someone who could use it. I'm looking to trade."
Jorin's eyebrows rose slightly. "Trade? How refreshingly... traditional. What exactly are you hoping to acquire?"
Smart question. He's testing whether I know what I want or if I'm just fishing for offers.
"Glowroses," Alucent replied without hesitation. "About a dozen. And a steady supply of lamp oil. Enough for a few weeks."
"Ambitious." Jorin circled the Steamsewer like a predator evaluating prey. "This is quality work, I'll grant you. But Glowroses are expensive. Twelve of them, plus oil... that's nearly a Silverweave's worth of value."
Translation: I'm going to lowball you and see if you're desperate enough to take it.
"Then it's a good thing this Steamsewer is worth more than that," Alucent countered. "Steam Power System integrated with Rune Energy System enhancement. Custom gear work. Perfect functionality. Try finding another one this well-restored for less than two Silverweaves."
Jorin's smile sharpened. "Perhaps. But I happen to know of a Steamwagon part that's been giving my cousin considerable trouble. Temperamental gear assembly that keeps jamming. Fix that, and I might be willing to part with, say, eight Glowroses and oil for a week."
Eight roses and a week of oil for two repair jobs? That's highway robbery.
"Twelve roses and three weeks of oil for both repairs," Alucent shot back. "And that's generous, considering how much a functional Steamwagon is worth compared to a broken one."
They went back and forth for another ten minutes, each testing the other's resolve and knowledge of local pricing. But eventually, they settled on eleven Glowroses and oil for two and a half weeks. Not perfect, but close enough to fair that Alucent could live with it.
Could have done better if I knew the market rates for everything. But considering I've been here less than a week, not bad.
The deal was sealed with a rune-tapped handshake, both their hands briefly glowing with the warm light that indicated an agreement honored under the Rune Covenant. The magical equivalent of a legally binding contract, except enforced by cultural trust rather than lawyers.
Better than a written agreement, in some ways. Harder to find loopholes in community honor.
Jorin's people delivered the Glowroses within an hour, along with three small bottles of clear lamp oil that smelled faintly of herbs and something metallic. Alucent clutched the bundle carefully as he made his way back toward his cottage, already planning where to place them for maximum lighting efficiency.
Shelter secured. Light secured. Food... well, food's still an issue, but one problem at a time.
He was halfway home when the feeling hit him. That prickle between the shoulder blades that meant someone was watching. Someone who didn't want to be noticed.
Alucent didn't turn around. Didn't change his pace. But he used the reflection in a shop window to catch a glimpse of his tail.
Burly guy in rough laborer clothes. Moving too deliberately to be casual, too focused to be coincidental. And staying just far enough back to avoid obvious notice.
One of Jorin's people. Has to be. Question is whether this is standard security for valuable trades or something more specific.
The thug. Because that's what he was, no matter how the rough clothes tried to disguise it. followed at a careful distance all the way to the residential district. Never close enough to be threatening, never far enough to lose sight of his target. Professional work that spoke of experience and money.
Not exactly the communal spirit of barter that everyone keeps talking about. More like raw economic power with a side of intimidation.
Alucent made it to his cottage without incident, but the feeling of being watched lingered even after he'd closed and locked the door. He placed the Glowroses strategically around the main room, their warm light pushing back the shadows and making the space feel almost welcoming.
Almost.
But as he settled in for the evening, checking and double-checking that the door was secure, he couldn't shake the feeling that his growing reputation for rune work and practical problem-solving was attracting exactly the kind of attention he didn't want.
Success has a price. And apparently, in this world, part of that price is finding out who else wants a piece of what you're building.
The ring on his finger pulsed once, barely noticeable in the warm glow of the roses.
Yeah, I felt it too. Whatever's coming, it's bigger than haggling over lamp oil and sewing machines.
Outside, the night settled over Eryndral with the quiet sounds of a community at rest. But somewhere in that darkness, a burly thug in laborer clothes was probably making a report to someone who traded in more than just Weavefibers and Enhancement Runes.
Time to figure out whether I'm building a life here or just painting a target on my back.
The Glowroses hummed softly, their clockwork petals adjusting to the darkness, casting steady light that promised safety but couldn't quite deliver on the promise.
Some things, apparently, money couldn't buy.
Even magical money.