The next week, the merchants made their way to Jacklan’s village. It seemed odd to Jacklan that they would come in the winter, but the traders claimed that crossing the ocean was much calmer in the winter, as opposed to the blustery storms of the summer. They would always make their trek up the mountains as the first snowflakes started to grace the landscape, making their journey up into the mountains before the snowstorms and cold would close the small village off from the world until spring. This year, Jacklan was less interested in their stories, and more interested in the wares they brought.

  The year prior, Jacklan had gathered extra materials, some herbs and minerals that could rarely be found outside of the snowy peaks. In exchange, Winn, one of the traders, had agreed to split the profits with Jacklan, and bring back instruments and equipment from across the ocean. They stood in Jacklan’s home, with Winn explaining each new device to Jacklan’s amazement.

  “This device they call a watchglass. It allows you to use separate demarcations of time using only a single hourglass.” Jacklan examined the device, in awe of its craftsmanship. Jacklan owned a few hourglasses, of course. His father taught him how to use them at a young age, and Jacklan owned a two minute, three minute, and five minute hourglass. However, when brewing medicine that took longer, perhaps thirteen, or sixteen minutes, it became a very cumbersome exercise to continually flip combinations of each hourglass to reach the desired result. Additionally, it took entire days in order to test different lengths of time for a given mixture. The device sitting on the table was astounding by comparison. The neck was much larger than a normal hourglass, and was made of silver, with a small rod running through it. The framework was a beautiful wooden inlay, painted with silver accents. The small rod had holes of differing sizes along it, each marked with a symbol, which was visible when centered on the neck. Sliding the rod would allow for distinct intervals of time to be created for the hourglass.

  “It’s astounding.” Jacklan said, letting out a deep breath. I understand the mechanics, but could never imagine being able to create such precision. Winn smiled, clearly overjoyed at having found an instrument that would prove useful. “I found it back home in Wysteria, an acquaintance of mine told me about it, and I immediately told him I would purchase one. They’ve developed phenomenal methods of forming metals. I was also able to purchase this from the same individuals.” Winn reached into his bag, pulling out another item, and sitting it on the table. This item looked much more foreign, being composed of two funnels mounted on a balancing scale. Small knobs adorned each pipe exiting the funnels, and joined in a basin below the balancing scale. The bulky object made a soft thump as he sat it on the table. “Any guesses what this one is?” Jacklan examined the device more closely. Each of the knobs bore markings, ranging from the character for “complete” to “none”. Jacklan tentatively tapped one of the funnels, feeling the balance of the device. Surprisingly, it was not simply sitting on a hinge, as he felt resistance pushing down on one side. Jacklan audibly gasped.

  “Is this a combination flask?” Winn grinned wide, affirming Jacklan’s guess. Jacklan immediately grabbed his notes, searching for a certain page. “Winn this is perfect, I’ve needed something like this for ages, I’ve tried to create this one mixture several times and it was impossible to get….” Winn guffawed loudly, cutting Jacklan off mid-sentence. “In ages? Lad, I was visiting this village when you were a small child. You speak as an older man, who has been searching for answers his entire life.” Jacklan clapped him on the back, sharing in the joy. “In some ways friend, I have been doing exactly that.”

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  The merchants stayed in town for about a week before they departed. Each year, this served as a sort of holiday for the small village. The blacksmith, the tailor, the cobbler, and even Jacklan would cease their duties during the week. Jacklan still continued his research in the early hours of morning, but otherwise it was a week of joy and celebration. The food was delicious, Garetta happy to have new spices and ingredients brought from afar by the merchants. The entire village would gather around a warm fire, anticipating the colder weather on the way in the coming weeks. The merchants and village leaders would take turns telling stories to the raptured crowd. During the daylight, everyone would dance and make merry, unburdened by the problems and duties of the normal world. Without fail, some young gentleman would finally get up the nerve to propose, and a celebration would be held for the newly engaged couple.

  The week was always one of joy and merriment, mirrored by the time in the summer when harvest was celebrated in a similar manner. For a singular week, the entire village would become more lively, and more lived in than any other place on the planet. As the winter started to take hold, the merchants would prepare their things, and prepare to leave the next morning. It was on that day that Shrum brought Jacklan into his study, and turned his world upside down.

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  Jacklan felt it odd that Shrum had asked to talk to him privately; it was not uncommon for the village elder to do such with members of the town. However, it had only happened once with Jacklan, when he chose to undertake the role of town apothecary four years ago. Shrum’s office felt homely. The town hall was an old structure, the only building in the village constructed of stone, and not of wood. It was by far the oldest structure in the town, and the only one that nobody remembered being constructed, even Shrum. The front hall of the building was well lit, with wooden tables in the main area, used that week for dinners and merriment. A large window on the front let the sunlight in, facing west towards the setting sun. The back slowly morphed, with the building resting on the side of a mountain, and Shrum’s quarters and office being carved out of the hillside, feeling cavelike, and lit by torches. Jacklan wasn’t quite sure he could feel comfortable in such a space, but it seemed to fit the village elder like a glove, a physical representation of what he meant to the village. A strong leader, unmovable and unshaking. In his quarters, Jacklan sat across from a handcrafted wooden desk. Shrum had left his walking stick to the side, resting in his large chair.

  “One of the merchants brought me a message, and it is something I must share with you Jacklan. Before your headstrong nature refuses my wishes, you must listen to me.” Jacklan was confused by Shrum’s request, but nodded for him to continue. What could this be about? “I have received a message from a gentleman in Siltar. You would not know of him, but he is a wealthy man residing within the Silver capital. His name is Falvon, and he was part of your father’s research before he moved to this village.” Jacklan was left dumbfounded. “You mean that my father wasn’t born here? He never told me that.” Shrum shook his head. “Your father was a citizen of the Silver kingdom, and one of the most renowned researchers within. His work with Falvon was well known, and very reputable. Eventually, the Empire started frowning upon such things, and while they continued their research it was done in secret. Your father came to this village searching for new materials, interested in the geography and fauna here. Then he met your mother.” Jacklan said nothing, fully enraptured by this. Shrum seemed to notice, and continued his story. “Falvon kept contact with your father over the years, using mercantile means to send messages, and occasionally visiting.” Jacklan’s mind spun, then he replied hurriedly.

  “Are you talking about Uncle Fin?” Shrum nodded. “I believe the last time he visited, you were no older than seven. When your father passed, I sent word back to him. It was at that point he left the research, content in his old age to leave it be. However, this message came for you.” Shrum pulled two papers out, one a folded letter, and one sealed with a silver stamp. “I apologise for reading the letter before showing it to you, but I still leave the decision to you.” Jacklan unfolded the letter carefully, noticing that his hands were trembling.

  Jacklan,

  I hope this letter reaches you well. Your father and I were close friends, as you may remember. You were quite young the last time I saw you, but you simply knew me as Uncle Fin. Winn is one of my acquaintances, and I heard from him a few years ago that you had taken your father’s profession as your own. Independent of our past, I am overjoyed to know that he has you to carry on his legacy. In a selfish manner, I have a request for you. In the near future, I will be in possession of knowledge from overseas that I believe may be the solution to our decades of research. While I have no authority to request this of you, I would need your father’s research notes in order to see if this is truly the case, I would be indebted to you if you can assist me in this manner. Should you agree, there are three things you should know.

  Firstly, tell nobody of your true purpose. Such things are now seen as treason to the crown, even if a select few within the Silver kingdom continue the pursuit. While I do need your father’s notes, tell nobody of your profession or the notes.

  Secondly, the other item that I have sent with my messenger is a sealed writ, establishing you as my nephew, with full rights to come into the Silver kingdom. While this may not be technically true in the sense of blood, I have procured these documents, and further believe it to be true. You are family to me, regardless of legal status. Do not open this writ until it is brought to the border of the kingdom, as it is an officially attested document sealed by the crown.

  Third, this endeavor will be at your own peril. I risk my own to both send this message, and continue my research. The man I have sent this message with I trust completely. Should you decline this offer, forget that you ever received it, and consider it a message from your loving uncle. Should you choose to come, your name is Jacklan Syn, and you are returning home to see your long lost uncle. You can traverse the mountains with the merchants, but you will enter the Silver kingdom alone, with no allies. Tell them not of your purpose, only that you have been planning on leaving the village, and wish to travel south to the Empire. This should seem quite apt, as I believe you are approaching your twentieth birthday, the official age of adulthood in the Empire.

  I pray that this letter reaches you well, and that you have grown into the man that your father always knew you would be. By what your father told me in our letters, you most certainly are.

  Your Loving Uncle,

  Falvon Syn

  Jacklan sat the letter down on the old desk, his head spinning. A chance to finish my father’s research… Shrum’s voice broke his isolated world, bringing a calming voice to comfort him. “Make your decision independent of the village Jacklan. I can share in your duties after your departure, and there are others that can help. As I said, the decision is entirely yours. The merchants leave in the morning, should you decide to make the journey to Siltar.” Jacklan nodded wordlessly, and deparated, tucking the papers away and walking back to his home, mind awhirl.