The two made sparse conversations on the way through the crowds but this stopped completely while travelling on the subway, Kir trying to focus on not breaking, one earbud in and the other the sparing conversation with Amber. Kir’s eyes darted around the train at some moments and at others stared dead ahead out to the black of the tunnel.

Soon enough they made their exit and walked onto the main street in the Gallows District. This district was a bit more commercial, a lot of shops and restaurants on the main thoroughfare but the best places were found on side streets.

“I’m up this way” Amber said, jutting a thumb in the general direction.

Kir stiffly nodded and made his way opposite that direction into the thick of the crowd. This district was noticeably more colourful than the grey skyscrapers that permeated the rest of the city, of course these were still large buildings but the rented out spaces were far more colourful. People laughed and talked, shopped and drank, this area was incredibly popular with students and adults alike. Going deeper down the street the area became, not necessarily seedier, but definitely not as family friendly as near the subway station.

Kir made a left turn at a small corner shop into a side street. Beautiful gas lit lamps with vines that seemed to manifest out of nowhere and curl down the sides of the buildings.

Kir walked down the street, pulling up his hood and mumbling some words until the grey skyscrapers disappeared as if shimmering out of existence and he was greeted with a new landscape. Still a bustling street, but not a single similar aspect. A cobbled road led down the main thoroughfare with a jarring blend of modern architecture somehow mixed with traditional English Tudor and magnificent Greco-Roman marble.

The sky burnt a crisp orange with strange cloud arrangements floating through the sky as the people of all shapes and sizes wandered the street. Vendors in carts yelled to walking customers wishing to sell their wares while high-end shops held beautiful arcane-clockwork displays with strange runic scriptures on them.

Some wore modern clothes, donning business attire or casual wear whereas others wore large cloaks and boasted enormous staffs with strange gems attached to the top. Fae of all kinds fluttered around the street going about their business, where strange varieties of creatures wandered seemingly aimlessly, though the large majority were human-esque. Years of crossbreeding with the most prevalent species has left the staples of the past to only be seen in physical traits, though they were still decidedly human, with exceptions of course.

Kir made his way down the street coming across a beautiful marble fountain, a brave hero astride an enormous lion spat water from their staff in a dignified position. Peoples gathered here for all array of reasons, this was not the least bit of Kir’s concern. He made his way deeper into the sprawling streets into the now decidedly seedier areas. The people populating this area were far more of a certain type. A woman of clear elven descent judging from her fluorescent green eyes and obvious beauty called out to Kir from within a shop clad in somewhat revealing attire. Kir not even registering her words completely ignored her, drawing her ire in the form of a derisive sneer, Kir again barely noticed this as he had finally reached his destination. One of the both simultaneously nicer and larger establishments in this part of town. A large placard reading “The Desert Jewel” in beautiful golden script, not dissimilar to the print on the dagger Kir had previously stowed.

"I want go home" he kept muttering to himself, taking comfort in that this would be his last outing for a long time. The spell he had been working on was calling his name.

The building's exterior seemed decidedly ornate with complex metal designs on the framing of the windows. This same design extending to the doors opening to the interior of the establishment, Kir trudged up the steps onto the veranda and peered in. White cloth covered circular tables with ever burning orange candles placed in the middle. The building seemed hexagonal in shape with stairs on the left leading up to a balustrade with more seating. A door on the far wall led to the kitchen while the door to its right led to private rooming, for the more prestigious guests. Currently the restaurant was sparsely populated but come nightfall it became incredibly busy, reservations having to be made weeks in advance. A heavy set man clothed in a black suit stood guard by the door to the private seating, staring straight ahead. Kir approached the door but was stopped by the man, His protruding jaw marked him of orcish descent.

“Where do you think you’re going” A gruff voice growled out.

“I’ve got some items for Mr Sirani” Kir responded with a gesture to his backpack.

“Then you give them to his steward”

“Mr Sirani asked for these items to be delivered personally”

“Sure thing, beat it kid”. Kir made a bewildered face.

“I’m twen… never mind, Can you just tell him that I’m here to see him?”

The man didn’t respond though his silence indicated his answer.

“Please, I told him I’d be done by today” a clear exasperation in Kirs voice, confrontation wasn’t exactly fun for him. The guard made a heavy sigh

“Name?”

“Kir, just say that” The guard scoffed

“Wait a second” his tone clearly irate.

He went inside and closed the door, a few seconds passed and he opened the door again, reluctantly gesturing for his entrance. The rooms interior showed beautiful black wallpaper with old gas lamps affixed to the wall and similar candles on the tables. The quality of the furniture and the ambience of the room was far more relaxing than in the general seating area. On the far back corner three men sat in uniquely tailored bespoke suits playing cards. Each puffed on a cigar with a glass of whiskey in hand. Two faced away from him while one sat facing his direction inspecting his hand. Noticing Kir entered, the man waved Kir over with a smile.

“Come here kid” he said, splaying his hand down causing the others to groan. Kir made his way over to the table as one figure began to shuffle the deck. The man who called him over was a short rotund man, balding but with an imposing manner. He took a puff of his cigar and sent it out mingling with the smoke hanging in the air. Kir stood by him.

“I have your..” the man interrupted him.

“Hang oooon, pull up a seat, do you want a drink?” a clear gruffness mixed with a twinge of smokers' lungs.

“I’m o..”

“Alfie, pour the man a drink” one of the men playing cards with the man mage handed a glass from a cabinet across the room and poured an expensive looking dwarven scotch into it. Knowing his position in this dynamic Kir took up a seat by the apparent leader.

“Alfie, Tommy this is my guy, Vikir” the one on the right, clad in a navy blue suit and short cut hair, a thick scar across his right eye stuck out his hand.

“Alright Vik” He spoke with the same thick Italian-American accent of Mr Sirani. Kir took his hand and took down his hood.

“Whew kid, you look like shit”

“Don’t I always” He responded, a small attempt at familiarity.

“Hehe, well I don’t pay you for your looks” Mr Sirani put his arm around Kir’s shoulders and gestured to the other men.

“This is my guy he’ll remove any curse or add any minor enchantment, no questions asked, and he’s good too, not like those Pixie Dust addicts who’ll take your money and give you nothing but an empty pocket and a half-working invisibility amulet, in fact, why don’t you show them some of your work” He offered eagerly, letting a smile that was both friendly but uncomfortably commanding. Kir nodded nervously and pulled the ring and the dagger from the bag.

Mr Sirani picked up the dagger and looked over it, taking out the blade and inspecting it.

“Look at that boys, perfect” the two men looked closely at the blade and passed it to the man who greeted Kir. As he inspected it Mr Sirani pocketed the ring and gave Kir a nod.

“This is good work, you looking to work as an Enchanter?”

“No it’s just something to pay the bills, I’m just a 7th Genus Nebula right now”

“Ah no rush, you’ve got time” the man responded, sheathing the blade. “L.S” he spoke, reading the inscription on the hilt. Mr Sirani spoke up.

“Found that in some Dwarven ruins a bit ago. Cursed naturally but I had this guy take a look at it and look at that. Not at a scratch”.

“L.S? Beautiful isn’t it, you’re giving it to your daughter?” The man nodded.

“That I am, had an inscription done before I got it uncursed, maybe a bad move but eh, it worked out”.

“A fitting present considering”. The other man spoke up, a british accent, contrasting heavily with the others.

“Ah that reminds me” the man looked back at Kir “My daughter recently got engaged and we’re having a little gathering. I was thinking that you should stick around, network a bit”. Kir wasn’t a fool. He understood his circumstances.

Working for Mafiosos wasn’t ideal but it was quick, easy money. For the most part these days, enchantments and curses were heavily monitored by The Order, trade, creation and removal was strictly regulated, finding a good underground Enchanter was akin to finding a needle in a haystack, given their strict oversight. Kir clearly understood that this Mafia Boss saw potential in his skills, especially at his age, that was the only real reason he was being shown kindness. And with unauthorized and illegal Enchanters so hard to come by he was clearly holding on to an asset. Though this wasn’t Kirs' desire. After all, Enchanting was one of his weaker disciplines.

“I don’t think…”

“Come on…Stay” The emphasis given showed that this wasn’t a conversation. Dwarve descended men like this held heavy grudges, and an invitation such as this should not be easily denied. Kir reluctantly nodded.

“Hey, good on ya” looking at the others “He’s a good kid”.

Kir was able to find his way onto the main thoroughfare to take a breather.

"I want to go home"

It frequently failed to dawn on him how dangerous these interactions actually were, the only thing keeping him in Sirani’s good graces was his scarcity. The party was in a few hours, usually under no circumstances would Kir attend any close gathering like this, it was largely an image of his worst nightmare. But a panic attack was a better consequence than getting his knee caps confiscated. For now Kir found one of the more deserted cafes on Hallowvale street to spend his time to begin planning while camping a table by the door.