Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 59: 58. The Artificer’s Son

Read chapter 59 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

I am Ren Drakemore, age 9, second prince of the Kingdom of Arcadia—and I am currently on a quest to gain power and influence in the Kingdom of Hyperion. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/94d9f12d-768f-4ec3-a12d-51b487be4617 The knuckles of my gloved right hand rap sharply three times against the iron door. It rings mournfully like a bass drum, echoing down the dark street lined with tightly packed buildings shrouded in night. The rooftops blot out the moonlight, leaving the ground in shadow. I listen closely, but there’s no sound from inside, only the impatient swish of Huckleberry’s tail and the faint scent of ash drifting from the smoke stack above. I glance up at the black cloud overhead, stealing what little light the moon still offers. Where there is smoke, there is fire. And where there is fire, someone should be tending it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Shadow asks behind me, standing beside the wagon. "This has to be it." "Are you sure? All the buildings look like grey squares." "Yes, but this one’s a grey rectangle. And it has a chimney." "They all have chimneys." A fair point I refuse to acknowledge. Lacking heating runes, Hyperion buildings rely heavily on fireplaces, which means countless chimneys. That would usually be a helpful clue when looking for a blacksmith’s workshop in Cairndorn. Still, based on the King’s directions, and the metal plaque above the door embossed with two Hyperion firearms crossed in an X, I’m confident this is the workshop of the royal artificer. "This is the place," I repeat, rapping on the door twice more, a bit harder this time out of frustration. I received a letter from the King by courier this morning, informing me of the location and that his artificer would be expecting my visit. I spent the entire day helping improve local farms, all the while excited to finally meet one of these intriguing artificers and learn about their marvelous creations. Now, all that built-up anticipation crashes against this cursed, closed door. A heavy metal clank is followed by a screech as the door grinds inward, flooding our portion of the street with blinding lamplight. My eyes narrow and my hand shoots up to shield them. Even though this is exactly what I’ve been waiting for, the sudden brilliance of my heart’s desire still catches me off guard. "What’s the meaning of this!?" a man’s voice demands from somewhere within the torrent of light. "I… uh…" I falter, taken aback by the question. The obvious answer to the meaning of knocking would be, We wish to enter, but the man’s aggravated tone makes me think I’m missing something. "Oh… you’re Arcadian," he mutters. As my eyes adjust, the scowl of an older man with a short salt-and-pepper beard comes into focus. His eyes look huge—no, there’s something metal strapped over the upper half of his face, with large glass lenses that magnify them far beyond normal spectacles. "How can you tell?" I ask indignantly. It’s not the first time someone in Hyperion has so confidently guessed my origins, but today I’ve gone out of my way to dress for work in the field, not as a noble. The constant disdain aimed at my countrymen is beginning to grate on me. "Brown eyes, for one. And your impatience." He points at various parts of me as he continues, dressing me down. "A kid in expensive boots, with a heavily armed escort, confidently wandering about at night." "Okay, I get it." "Not to mention you knocked three times." He holds up three fingers dramatically, as if that alone should mean something to me. It doesn’t. "Everyone knows you don’t answer the door when a stranger comes at night and knocks thrice." I didn’t then, and I still don’t now, know why that would matter. In an attempt to get the conversation back on track, I skip to the point. "Are you Mr. Ayla?" "And you must be the prince the King warned me about." I frown at his choice of words, though I am relieved when he steps aside to let us in. As Shadow and I enter, my attention is i