“We’ve got another Moolim,” Wend held up the metal cage he’d lifted from the forest floor, showing it to Eyde. The small, furry creature inside snuffled around with its pointed nose to the floor and brown, bushy tail in the air.

“Of course we do,” Eyde sighed as he scratched his pen over the page of the thick, leather-bound book he had open atop his collapsible writing desk. “That makes twenty of them. Male or female?”

Wend had unfastened the top of the cage and was reaching inside with his thick fingers. He caught the Moolim by its scruff and flipped it onto its back. The creature made little fuss as it fit comfortably into his large hand. “Female,” he said.

Eyde scratched another note without comment.

“You’re bored again, aren’t you?” The larger man finished affixing a small, metal tag to the Moolim’s ear. It gave a small, sharp squeak and scurried off as he returned it to the forest floor.

“This isn’t quite what I’d imagined when I became a field zoologist, Wend,” Eyde replied with another sigh.

Wend gave a shrug and came to sit next to him, “I understand that. The way I see it you have two options. Either do something about it or stop complaining.” He laughed and clasped Eyde’s shoulder.

Eyde did not look at him, focussing on the desk in front of him instead. “I am doing something,” he said in a small voice. He shuffled amongst the papers on the desk and withdrew one covered in his tight scrawl.

He passed it to Wend who read the first few lines. “The institute?” he looked up at Eyde who was now facing him with a sheepish grin.

“I thought Volgorne would be a fun place to visit and it seems no one has yet attempted to investigate the wildlife in the city,” Eyde’s voice was still quiet and unsure. “I’m sorry to leave you–”

“That’s fantastic!” Wend bellowed, scooping the smaller man into a large hug.

Eyde jolted awake to the sound of knocking on the door to his room. After bidding farewell to the Vanguard the previous evening, he had walked back here and all but collapsed into bed. He called out, “Just a moment, please!” while trying to extricate himself from the twisted bed linens. Hopping in an attempt to keep his balance, he crossed the room and opened the door.

The young man standing at his threshold wore a smart black suit and a deep green waistcoat with gold buttons. He also wore a look of apprehension. Eyde followed his gaze downwards, realising that he still wore only his nightshirt.

Eyde shuffled behind the door, his head peeking around to face his visitor. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?”

The young male managed a bright smile as he replied, “A good morning to you too, sir. Am I currently addressing Mr Eyde Barethawn?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Eyde confirmed with a little trepidation. It was then he noticed the design embossed onto the lad’s gold buttons, a stylised wolf’s head above a letter V. The symbol of the Volgorne institute of zoology.

“You’re from the institute,” Eyde blurted in excitement, flinging the door back open.

“Yes, sir,” the man’s smile barely wavered. “My name is Crinchley, and I’ve been sent here to collect you.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Uh… yes,” Eyde panicked. “One moment, please.” He slammed the door and scrambled about his room, pulling on his trousers while trying to button his shirt. His waistcoat and boots followed as he hopped over to the stand on which he kept his overcoat.

Making himself at least somewhat presentable, he reopened the door to find Crinchley waiting just as he had left him. “Thank you,” Edye continued to adjust his clothing. “Please, lead on.”

The platform ride to the Quick had taken roughly twenty minutes by Eyde’s estimation and this had included a stop at the Notch.

As the platform doors opened, the sounds and smells of industry flooded in as numerous passengers in labourer’s overalls alighted. He had been told the Notch was where many of Volgorne’s sought after goods were made, and the smells of ammonia, sulphur, and smoke spoke of an unflagging manufacturing industry. From his vantage point, Eyde was able to briefly take in the view of the chimneys belonging to numerous factories and foundries belching smoke into the air, so much so that even his view out into the blue sky of the Interior was slightly obscured.

After the second leg of the journey, the metal door allowing access to the Quick was pulled back by the lift attendants once the steam-powered platform had come to a complete stop. Eyde barely had time to take in the scene before Crinchley struck out with a brisk pace, exiting the platform with the other passengers. Eyde attempted to keep up as he bustled and careened from one passenger to the next, mumbling apologies as he did so.

The streets of the Quick were paved with a clean white stone. Far removed from the harsh cobbles of the Roots. Although a portion of the Quick still needed to be lit by lamps, being situated underneath the Rostrum, a greater portion of this stage was open to the sky, allowing trees and plants to flourish.

A cool breeze brushed against Eyde’s skin as he followed Crinchley along wide, tree-lined avenues past ornamental parks and stonework. He even noticed the trilling of birdsong. A cantia bird if he wasn’t mistaken. The pitch of the song briefly dipped into a deep, resonant rumble. He smiled to himself, Definitely a cantia bird.

“This is a lovely place,” Eyde commented as the two men walked side by side.

“Yes, sir,” Crinchley gave his now- broad smile. “The various institutes and establishments on the Quick believe that an aesthetically pleasing working environment is an aid to creativity and progress.”

“It certainly seems free of the oppressive atmosphere found in the Roots,” Eyde observed in a low voice as he looked around.

“Quite so, sir. Up here we can be sure that great minds are free from such distractions.”

Eyde chose not to reply. Their brief conversation had left a sour taste in his mouth. As they walked, Crinchley began to point out landmarks and notable buildings.

He gestured to a grand structure with marble columns supporting an elaborate frieze depicting a woman with leaves for hair holding out her arms as if in welcome, framed by twisting and overlapping tree branches.

“That’s the institute of medicine,” he nodded. “Great minds from all over Esthia come here to study the arts of healing.”

“That explains why they have Hesh above their door.”

“Yes, sir. The church of the lifebringer plays a key role in the institutes of medicine, agriculture, and zoology.”

“That makes sense,” Eyde had already turned from the building and was eyeing a statue on the opposite side of the street. Surrounded by trees and decorative shrubbery, the statue depicted an armoured woman with one hand on her hip, and the other on the hilt of a greatsword which had been thrust point-first into the ground. “Who’s that?” Eyde asked.

“That is Lialda Hennemire, sir. Sometimes better known as the Subtle Thorn. She was a great hero of her time. During those days when Daewan was fractured into warring principalities, she was a key figure in the army of Prince Volgran. She secured many victories with her defensive strategies, which led to our united Daewan as we now know it.”

“Just like Daralen,” Eyde said, almost to himself.

“That’s right, sir,” Crinchley nodded. “They and a handful of others founded mercenary companies after the unification, and those companies have all since found glory of their own. Of course, Daralen’s Vanguard can’t hold a candle to Lialda’s Bastion these days.”

“Oh, no?” Eyde attempted to keep his tone of voice level.

Crinchley chuckled, “Oh, no, sir. Daralen’s Vanguard hasn’t been at an effective fighting strength for some time, so I hear. Whereas the Bastion has been responsible for the city’s guard for many years now.” Crinchley gestured to a large building set back some way behind the statue. It put Eyde in mind of a fort. A brutal, angular building built of heavy, dark stone that set it apart from the graceful, white architecture he had become accustomed to on the Quick.

Men and women in leather armour could be seen coming and going from the building, each carrying a thin-bladed spear. Above, pennants and flags fluttered in the gentle breeze displaying a grey tower on a field of red.

Eyde remembered the symbol of the tower he had seen on the lift attendant’s chest. “I’d have thought a more suitable place for a guardhouse would be the Roots. I’ve not seen a guard since we ascended.”

“Nor will you, sir,” Crinchley tapped the side of his nose. “This is just the Bastion’s headquarters. The jailhouse is indeed situated in the Roots. Better it be amongst the criminal element, eh? With the platforms in operation, it’s very rare that we see their like up here.”

“I see,” Eyde once again felt a pang of sympathy for those on Volgorne’s bottom level. Keen to change the topic, he asked, “Are there many mercenary guilds in the city?”

Crinchley dipped his hand into his waistcoat and withdrew a pocket watch made of brass attached to his clothing by a delicate chain. “A handful. Certainly fewer than there were,” he stated, using the button at the top to open the watch face. “We really must be moving on, sir. I don’t want you to be late.”

The institute of zoology was situated near the outward edge of the Stage, completely uncovered by the Rostrum. Eyde felt the sun gently caress his face for the first time in what seemed like weeks. He smiled at its warmth as he took in the institute.

A frieze of the goddess Hesh kneeling with her forehead pressed against that of a wolf was displayed above the large double doors of the main entrance. Though the main body of the building was constructed of the same white stone Eyde had become used to on the Quick, light glinted on the large panels of glass held together by sturdy but visually pleasing ironwork which formed wings to either side.

Through the glass, Eyde could see the forms of large plants which occasionally swayed as something brushed past them. He realised he had been holding his breath for the last few moments, overcome with the excitement of being here.

“Come along, sir,” Crinchley called from a few paces ahead.

Eyde blinked and hurried towards him as he turned and ascended the stairs that led to the entrance.

Inside, the institute was just as imposing. Eyde craned his neck to take in the high ceiling of the entrance hall decorated with vines, branches and flowers. He marvelled at how craftsmen could render something so lifelike out of wood and paint before the sight of a brightly coloured straw-beaked darter fluttered across the room to drink nectar from a large, yellow flower in the corner of the ceiling.

Eyde gaped and turned to find Crinchley smiling widely at him. “Welcome, sir.”

“This is all real? Alive?”

“That’s correct. We find the creatures in our care comport themselves more in keeping with their behaviour in the wild this way.”

“This is incredible,” Eyde breathed as he watched a woman dressed in the same green waistcoat as Crinchley hand a piece of fruit to a passing pilono, Its long proboscis curling around the offering as its shaggy feet shuffled across the institute’s insignia which had been engraved into the marble floor and picked out with gold.

“Oh, before I forget, sir,” Crinchley handed a small, coin-like brass token to Eyde. Upon its face was embossed the stylised V and wolf's head of the institute. “This will allow you access to the Quick by the lifts and will serve as proof of your association,” he smiled.

Eyde felt the weight of the token in the knowledge, reputation, and prestige that it represented. His reverie was broken by the realisation that Crinchley was once again moving away at speed. He quickly stuffed the disc into the pocket of his trousers as he scrambled to catch up.

Crinchley led Eyde through the main building, the corridors replete with artwork in golden frames depicting creatures from all over Esthia. Eyde had little time to take them in as he matched Crinchley’s brisk pace.

Turning left, Eyde was led into one of the institute’s glass-walled wings. Here, as he had seen from outside, plant life dominated. The humidity was high, hitting him like a moist wall as he crossed the threshold. Before long he had begun to feel beads of sweat form on his brow. Clicks, trills, and the occasional cry of wildlife buzzed in the air around him. A small path wound its way through the area, with researchers in green waistcoats at large benches and desks making notes in large books or interacting with various animals.

He saw one researcher shining a light into the eyes of a gelmon which then proceeded to scramble about and into the vegetation with a shriek. On a fern leaf almost half a metre across, Eyde beheld the largest moth he had ever seen, almost as long as the leaf itself. As he watched, its wings spread, displaying dizzying geometric patterns in too-bright colours. Eyde had to look away as he became nauseous.

Crinchley paused behind a man bent over one of the benches. His long, dark hair fell over his face as he adjusted a series of glass lenses above whatever his body was obscuring on the bench itself.

Crinchley coughed politely.

“Ah, Crinchley. I assume this is Mr Barethawn.” The man barely glanced at the two of them before returning to his work.

“Yes, Doctor. Mr Barethawn, this is Dr Gindel, one of our researchers here at the institute.”

“Very good,” Gindel waved a hand over his shoulder. “That will be all, Crinchely.”

The look of silent apology on Crinchley’s face as he left made Eyde uneasy. For the next few moments, Eyde stood in place as the researcher continued to adjust his lenses and scratch notes into the book open at his right side.

Edye’s anxiety pushed his patience to one side. He opened his mouth to speak, “Dr. –”

“I didn’t agree to have you assigned to me, Mr Barethawn.” Dr Gindel stated without looking up. “Yet my funding comes with several stipulations to which I must adhere.” Gindel laid his pen down on the bench with a neat snapping sound. He then turned to face Eyde, leaning on the bench and crossing his arms. His dark hair fell to his shoulders and framed a face Eyde could believe was handsome, were it not for the look of condescension currently spread across it.

“I do not say this to be cruel, merely to ensure you are fully informed. I do not need you. I am perfectly capable of pursuing my research alone. You will be given menial tasks for which I have neither the time nor the will and no more. Am I understood?”

Eyde was taken back by the abruptness of the man’s comments. “Dr Gindel, I’m sure I can be of great use to you if you just –”

The other man sighed loudly, cutting off Eyde’s plea. “I see that I am not understood.” Eyde fell silent at the interruption. “Then I will say this only once, a word from me and you will be expelled from this place. Comply, and you may have some chance to prove yourself or become the responsibility of a researcher who is more willing to pander to your obvious lack of ability.”

Eyde’s fists clenched at his sides. He could feel his face becoming hotter as the indignation washed over him. But what choice did he have? Coming all this way to give up now would feel like failure. Perhaps he could endure for a time. Prove himself worthy and begin his work under a more suitable mentor as Gindel had said. He took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, Dr Gindel.”

The man replied with a twisted smile, “Good. So there is some sense in you. Very well, come with me and I shall give you your first assignment.”

Eyde was led back through the corridors, this time paying little attention to the decoration and organic traffic as he passed. He came to stand before a plain wooden door which Dr Gindel opened with a key plucked from a ring at his belt.

The inside of the room was dark, lit only by gas lamps. Dozens of wooden cabinets, stretching to the ceiling and heaving with paper were placed in rows throughout the entire space. Gindel beckoned Eyde towards one in particular and pulled out one overflowing drawer.

“Field reports,” Gindel offered by way of explanation. “Made by previous assistants of mine. I want you to catalogue each one and make notes of any findings that could be worth investigating further. Can you do that?”

Eyde nodded in response, morose at the prospect of shuffling through all of this paperwork.

“Good,” Gindel closed the drawer again and handed the key to Eyde. “Lock up when you’re done.”

Eyde leafed through the open drawer with his fingertips, spying the scrawled notes which packed each page. Behind him, the door clicked shut.