Full Circle (2)

  “There’s no end to the number of baseless rumors going around about this place, especially since external media outlets aren’t exactly welcome here.”

  “True, this is technically one of the most isolated places in the world, but under the right circumstances, lots of people still end up coming here.” At this, Cyril made another right turn at the end of the broad sidewalk, then he wandered down an alley shrouded within the shadows cast by two adjacent buildings.

  “Umm Cyril, are you sure this is the right place?” Angelica probed nervously as she followed him down the dark path.

  “Yeah, I know a really good artificer around here. She’s the one that used to maintain my old sword before it broke.” he said, shooting her a wink over his shoulder. “Oh, we’re here, this is it, this is the place!”

  Angelica cocked her head again.

  “Isn’t this just a brick wall?” she asked, looking dumbfounded.

  “Non, non, my dear.” he shot back, wagging a finger at her. “The shop’s being concealed with magic; you’ll see the real thing in a second.”

  “For someone who claims to have no sense of direction, you sure do know some shady places mister.” Angelica told him wittingly as she stepped closer to the shady brick wall.

  “My sense of direction really isn't the greatest, but as long as its somewhere I've been to before I’ll manage. There’s no way I could get lost around here for a second time.”

  Before Angelica could get another word in, Cyril gave three gentle knocks to a portion of the withered brick wall. “Ginny, it's me, Cyril. I’ve brought you a customer that’s looking for gear.”

  No reply came.

  Instead, a dim white glow began seeping through the brick lined spaces, slowly expanding and brimming as if it was about to consume the very wall itself. After a while, the glowing stopped, and the illuminated segment of the wall disassembled itself and opened up like a bivalve mollusk, revealing the ‘true’ entrance to their destination.

  The alley was a little over five meters wide, lined with dumpsters and trash cans on either side but even though it was located in such a decrepit environment, their supposed destination didn’t match up with their surroundings at all.

  A large oakwood door stood tall, seamlessly embedded into the brick laden exterior of the building they were facing as if it had always belonged there. On it was a laminated metal signpost, reminiscent of the Victorian era, it displayed the name ‘Vulcanus’ in bold.

  Angelica wondrously stared at the strange nameplate, she glanced at Cyril, then made a face that suggested she was having second thoughts about coming here. After a while, she sighed and shook her head.

  “Well, I’ve already come this far. Let’s see this so-called secret shop of yours, Cyril.”

  “Follow me, you won’t regret this.”

  A few steps past the doorframe were all Angelica needed to realize he was telling the truth. The room beyond was, at a glance, what one might expect from a traditional smithy—yet there was something undeniably surreal about it. It was hard to believe that such an arcane-esque establishment could exist in a remote corner of a modern metropolis.

  The shop was an ‘organized mess’—not in the sense of being untidy, but in the way its layout created an overwhelming sense of controlled chaos. Shelves stretched to the ceiling, crammed with mysterious contraptions, aged tomes, and delicate glassware filled with shimmering liquids.

  Weapons lined the walls in meticulous displays—gleaming axes, intricately designed swords, and legendary hammers, each piece exuding a history of craftsmanship and power. The air carried the scent of oiled metal and aged wood, a tangible reminder of the establishment's legacy.

  “Welcome to Vulcanus, Angelica—it's the best smith shop in all of Dunwich!"

  Bewildered by the sight, the girl cluelessly stared around with curious stars in her eyes. She took a step forward, much to Cyril’s delight as he watched on with a satisfied grin. Unbeknownst to them both, her body was subconsciously reacting to the residual traces of mana being emitted by a particular weapon locked away behind one of the glass displays, but as soon as she reached out to touch it...

  “Hold it right there sweetheart....”

  A voice came from the front, someone had emerged from one of the backroom doors and took up their position behind the counter with movements far too smooth to be called anything less than practiced.

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  She was a young-looking woman whose skeptical expression added a strain to her otherwise youthful face.

  The first thing that caught Angelica’s attention was her shoddily tied-up mess of beige hair, with a pair of brass goggles pushed up on her head. Her outfit seemed chosen purely for practicality—a white blouse, leather gloves, and brass-buckled accessories that complemented her overall steampunk aesthetic.

  A trail of cloudy smoke—akin to what was wafting from the ash pipe in her hands escaped through her lips as she stared them down with a focused gaze.

  “Cyril, what kind of gear do you need this time?” she asked again, knocking off a trail of ash from her pipe.

  “I’m here with a friend today. She’s looking around the artificer shops in Dunwich, I’m just acting as her guide at the moment. Granted, I might actually need some protection now that I think about it.” he responded, meeting her leveled gaze.

  The woman said nothing at this, she simply shifted her eyes over to Angelica, then back to him and dipped her head after giving them a resigned look.

  “Oh, that’s right you turned sixteen recently, didn’t you? That girl there looks to be about your age too...” She paused and took another puff “.... hate to break it to you kid but my store doesn’t stock that kind of protection, if you were gearing up to get hot and bothered you came to the wrong place.”

  Instantly, Cyril’s face boiled over from a searing sheen of red. He hadn’t turned around but he could hear Angelica fuming behind him.

  “W-W-Wait!! Not that kind of protection! Armor! Armor! I was talking about combat armor!” he cried, his voice cracking like a desperate child.

  Angelica meant to reinforce his claim, but it seems she hadn’t been prepared to hear something so suggestive, her only retort came in the form of jumbled hand signals and a series of half-formed rebuttals.

  After being flustered only a few moments ago, Cyril's flushed face returned to normal as soon as he noticed something—the bespectacled woman with a hand supporting her jaw was smiling deviously at them.

  Damn it...she did this on purpose! Cyril shrieked internally.

  “G-Ginny, she’s a noble! Your sense of humor is going to get us into trouble!”

  “Pfft! Hahaha! Sorry, sorry—I know who she is, I just couldn’t resist,” Ginny said, laughing as she banged her hand on the thick wooden counter.

  It took a while for them to settle down, but as soon as everything was in order, Cyril—face still flushed— took it upon himself to initiate the formalities. “Ahem, umm, Angelica, this is the artificer I was telling you about earlier. Her name is Guinevere Aston, but her regulars gave her the nickname ‘Ginny’ for short.”

  “Regulars?” Angelica cocked her head to one side, making a face as if to say ‘how can a shady shop like this have any regulars?’

  “Ahh...well let’s just say this stores a bit special.” he assured her with a series of dismissive waves.

  Not wanting to think about it too much, Angelica ultimately decided to play along. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

  “I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lady Guinivere, my name is Angelica Regis, second daughter of the Regis clan.”

  “My, you’re one trusting brat, aren’t you little girl? I wasn’t expecting any nobles to pay a visit to a remote little shop like this.” Ginny corrected her posture on the wooden stool. “The Regis clan huh...haven’t heard that name in a while.”

  “I suppose we wouldn’t be very well known in this city; our clan mainly operates outside Babylon after all.”

  “I know.” replied the artificer, sharpening her velvet glare.

  Ginny took a puff from her ash pipe again, spewing the smoke from her lips as if it was second nature. “So, what can I do for a noble like you? Despite how it may seem, my shop is actually quite famous you know, not anyone can just walk in here.”

  “Hehe, I agree with you, this certainly isn’t your run of the mill smithy, not after all the effort it took to get here. Do you mind if I look around a bit? There’s actually quite a few things I'm interested in.”

  “Feel free. In the meantime, Cyril, why don’t you bring me up to speed on what’s been going on with you? I heard a bit about your little escapades from Carissa, but I want the full story—let’s start off simple, what’s with the silver hair?”

  And so, he began again, skimming over the details of everything that happened from the eighteenth of June until now.

  By the end of his recap, Angelica was making her way back to the counter with a handful of vials. He clearly recalled hearing a few ‘oohs’ and ‘aahhs’ from the noble girl as she darted around Ginny’s shop brimming with childlike wonder, but a certain someone had already put measures in place to keep her from going on a needless spending spree.

  Before they left the condominium earlier, Yelena had told her to call if she was ever going to buy anything that cost more than a thousand pounds. True to her nature, she obliged and was met with a stern series of rejections every time she pitched her newfound prospects to Yelena over the phone.

  In the end, she only ended up getting a few elixirs—one of the most basic items in the world of dungeon diving. It was a pink liquid that was supposedly made from dissolved essence pulse and had the effect of temporarily boosting one's stamina, but it would only take effect if it was consumed by a deviant.

  “Thank you for your patronage~” Ginny said, smiling as she handed a receipt to Angelica.

  Her matte-black debit card was one thing, but the numerical figure Cyril caught a glimpse of at the end of the white receipt left him looking stunned. It was really none of his business, but he was certain the number he saw wagging at the receipts tail end was a lot more than a thousand pounds.

  Catching him in the act of gawking, Angelica playfully winked at him and swiftly turned away to dispose of the evidence.

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