Eis walked at an unhurried pace, letting Lumaire move around her. Stone warmed by the sun. Voices overlapping in fragments—bargaining, laughter, impatience. The steady rhythm of carts rolling over uneven cobblestone. She watched hands more than faces. Who carried weight easily. Who moved like they expected trouble. Who didn’t.
The city shifted as she walked.
Shops thinned. Walls grew older. Lanterns fewer. The air changed—not foul, just tired. Worn thin by too many days that asked more than they gave.
Near the edge of the Artisan district, she slowed.
A line of children stood outside a narrow storefront. Quiet. Patient. Bowls clutched in small hands. A woman ladled thin stew, moving carefully so none spilled. The children didn’t complain. They watched the pot instead.
Something tightened in Eis’s chest.
A memory surfaced—too fast to fully form.
Cold hands.
A smaller bowl pushed towards a child.
The child’s eyes, wide with disbelief—
She cut the thought off before it could take shape.
The line shifted forward. One child smiled when their bowl was filled.
Eis exhaled and turned away.
Her feet carried her back toward broader streets, toward buildings with banners and clean stone. Toward ledgers instead of hunger. Toward places where choices turned into structure.
The Merchant Guild’s sigil came into view ahead.
The Merchant Guild branch sits wedged between a jeweler’s workshop and an artificer’s gallery—its doors carved with intricate ledgers and coin motifs.
Inside, clerks shuffle paper, the air thick with ink and old parchment.
A young man behind the counter looks up as she approaches, his monocle catching the light.
“Good afternoon,” he greets. “Can I assist you?”
“I want to inquire about property,” Eis says. “Specifically… what it takes to acquire one.”
The clerk brightens immediately.
“Property? Of course! Down payments vary by district.”
He pulls out a thick ledger and flips to a section marked REAL ESTATE – LUMAIRE PROPER.
“Let’s see… For general reference:”
- Noble District: Five thousand gold.
- Guild District: Two Thousand and five hundred gold.
- River Quarter: One thousand and two hundred gold.
- Artisan District: Eight hundred gold.
- Outer Crescent: Two hundred gold.
Eis studies the list.
“Are there properties available in the Artisan District a little closer to the edge of the district?”
The clerk scans again.
“There’s one at the edge of Riverbend Lane. Small corner house. Workshop attached, reinforced wards, two rooms above. Down payment is six hundred gold.”
Eis nods once.
“I’ll return.”
She turns and leaves the building.
The clerk blinks as the door shuts.
“…Oh.”
Outside, she steps into an alley, quietly creates the exact amount of gold she needs, and fills a small oak chest to the brim—coins gleaming softly in the shade.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Then she returns to the Merchant Guild with the box under her arm.
The clerk stares at it.
“You… really did return.”
Eis sets the chest down with a solid thunk.
“Six hundred.”
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t question it—Lumaire has seen stranger things from adventurers.
“Very good, Madam. One moment.”
An hour later, she steps back into the afternoon sun, deed sealed in wax, iron key in hand.
No. 7 Riverbend Lane sits at the bend of a narrow canal where charm-makers, metalworkers, and glassblowers keep their shops glowing late into the night.
The house looks simple, but sturdy.
Inside:
Bright from an arched skylight, shelves fitted for tools and components, a reinforced table anchored to the floor.
Two small rooms above the workshop—warm with old wood, a stone hearth, and a window overlooking the shimmering canal.
A narrow balcony behind the house, barely big enough for a chair, but boasting a perfect view of the water and the glow of enchanted lanterns.
She touches the warded wall—
It hums softly, registering her mana.
“It’ll do,” she murmurs.
For the first time ever, a place feels—
hers.
Eis returned to the guild as the afternoon light began to thin.
The second-floor corridor was quieter than it had been that morning. She unlocked the temporary room, gathered what little she’d left behind, and closed the door for the last time. At the clerk’s desk, she set the key down carefully.
“I won’t be needing the room anymore,” she said. “I’ve moved.”
The clerk blinked, then smiled. “Found a place already?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” he said, sliding the key away, “I’ll mark it down. Let us know if you need anything.”
She thanked him and turned—
—and nearly collided with Kael.
“There you are,” he said. “We were starting to think you’d learned how to disappear on purpose.”
Lira appeared at his shoulder, relief obvious. “We looked all afternoon.”
Ronan came up last, eyes flicking to the pack in Eis’s hands. “You leaving the room?”
“Yes,” Eis said. “I bought a house. Workshop included.”
All three of them paused.
“You did what,” Kael said.
“In the Artisan District,” Eis added, as if that explained everything.
Kael groaned. “Of course you did.”
Lira’s eyes lit up immediately. “A workshop?”
Ronan studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Show us.”
They didn’t argue. They simply took half the load without asking and followed her through the streets, conversation filling the space where silence usually lived.
By the time dusk painted the windows gold, they stood outside her new place.
“So it’s true,” Kael said, stepping inside without waiting. “You really bought a house in the loudest district in Lumaire.”
“You could’ve picked somewhere quieter,” Lira added, teasing. “Like literally anywhere else.”
“Quiet doesn’t last around me,” Eis replied. “Come in.”
Kael immediately began inspecting the fixtures with professional suspicion. Lira leaned over the upstairs railing, humming softly as she took it in. Ronan stayed near the door, watching Eis with the same steady warmth he always carried.
“It suits you,” he said at last. “Room to work. Close enough to the city. Far enough from trouble.”
“That’s the idea,” Eis said.
Outside, the district buzzed on—hammers ringing, voices rising, life continuing.
Inside, something new had settled into place.
Kael gestures around the space. “Seriously though—how did you afford all this? We knew the guild rewarded you for the relic, but we didn’t realize it was—well—house-buying money.”
Lira nods, eyes wide. “You never said the payout was that big. The Sun Vault job pay was decent but not this.”
Ronan raises an eyebrow, half surprised, half impressed. “And in this district, no less.”
Eis only shrugs lightly. “It covered what mattered.”
Kael flops down on the stairs. “You’re staying for good, then?”
Eis nods.
“As long as Lumaire contains what I value.”
Lira smiles softly. “We need someone to keep us alive when we come back doing something stupid.”
“And someone reliable,” Ronan adds.
Kael snorts. “That narrows the list to one person.”
Laughter fills the workshop—light, genuine, alive.
After they leave, Eis steps onto her small terrace overlooking the canal.
The Artisan District glitters with lanterns, magically dyed smoke rising from chimneys in shades of blue and gold. Glass shops cast rainbow reflections onto the water, and charmsmiths’ runic symbols flicker like fireflies.
It is loud.
Unpredictable.
Messy.
Alive.
And somehow—peaceful.
Eis sits with a cup of tea, the hum of the ley lines beneath the city blending with the clatter and chatter outside.
For once, the noise isn’t something to brace against.
It’s life.
She watches the moon climb above the chimneys and whispers to the quiet pulse beneath her feet:
“I’ll watch.”
And for the first time in her new home, her voice sounds like it belongs there.