Legend of Ransera

"I suppose that all depends on how quickly I prove myself to the Masters of Tavárinoikos, ma'am," he said. "Though they are allowing me time to work on long-term projects I brought from Kalzasi, so I suppose if they extend my tenure, we will not go out of business."

Sivan caught a hint of resonance with Akantha; ah! she was also a shape-shifter. Well, that would explain her interest. He had accepted it thinking it would allow him to better protect himself from those who had raided his home with the apparent intent to kill him, then disappeared without another attempt. Instead, he had used it more to hone his vision after borrowing the blueprints, so to speak, of a dragonfly from one of Destyn's friends.

But perhaps someday, Master Jacun would allow him a scale and he could fly like a dragon... Wouldn't that be something?

"I find that my interests lie in the gray areas between them. For example, I am currently building a golem body and working with a fire spirit so that it will be able to wear the mechanical body for protection, for repose, and for more ability to manipulate the world around it without burning things. So, I am blending artificing and summoning for my client. I suppose I still harbor my old child-like wonder for the stories of the archmages who saw magic as one interconnected discipline. That is how it has always felt to me."

His personality shone through the brighter when he spoke of the actual work rather than the logistics of business.

Local spirits, unused to Spiritwalkers, were following him around, only visible to Semblers who knew what to look for. The humble maker-in-training had a bit of an audience beyond the princess and her current coterie.

Golden brows raised toward Akantha, he hoped he had sufficiently answered her question.

Sivan nodded solemnly, more out of respect for their Ancestors than his own aspirations. He was uncomfortable with everyday scrutiny, let alone this sort of attention from Very Important People. He would continue to create because that was what the Gods had put in his soul to do, and he would do so whether he saw wealth or acclaim or, preferably, lived and died in relative obscurity. Greater and greater skill would come along the way and he would be able to execute more of his visions, and hopefully, he would reach his end content with what and how he had created with the gifts given to him.

"I am certain you will always be welcome at Tavárinoikos, ma'am," he said.

As for her question, his face screwed up in thought. He only had limited information on the subject and it came from sources that weren't artificers, but, "I believe Stefan Dornkirk, formerly an airship engineer and now the civilian leader of Zaichaer in Karnor... I have heard from reliable sources that he has developed some sort of... I suppose you could call it golem armor. I have heard it called mechanical armor, power armor... it sounds like an... hm, I think I could call it an exosuit. A moveable carapace with all sorts of tricks installed. He is, by all accounts, a genius. Sadly, they still restrict magic and non-humans far too much for me to feel comfortable there on the chance that I might examine them."

He paused.

Then, "I was speaking to a tailor a few days ago, trying not to look too much the foreigner, and he gave me some Gelerian sailcloth to test. Apparently, he had it for some military applications. I thought it would make for good aprons and protective gear for alchemists and runeforgers and the like. I am going to try to reverse engineer it enough that I can make my own version. I don't know that it will end up on a runway, but it might make soldiering and making a bit safer."

Gods, but this was a lot of talking!

"Aye, I was fortunate to run across his shop when looking for Hytori clothes to wear while I'm in Silfanore. I am not an expert in his field, but I think he does good work for the likes of me." He turned a bit to look over what he was wearing. It was not meant to be impressive, but it was what Sivan had asked for: an honest expression of who he was. It was well-made, suited his complexion, and telegraphed his station in life. It would not reflect poorly upon Tavárinoikos, nor Val'Hytori who openly called him friend, such as Laurevere. It was sufficient to his needs, and marked him as a Len'Hytori artisan.

It was only then he realized she had called the tailor by name.

"Oh, of course, you know Master Len'Alen. Well, thank you. I will certainly tell him about Mistress Len'Kallix. I don't want to ruin all that he gave me in testing, and I don't know if he has been able to source the sailcloth for whatever his military contracts have required." He bobbed a nod that was practically a bow.

She gave him permission to go and a part of him was relieved; another part of him felt bad. He shouldn't be like this. And perhaps he wasn't fully Hytori, but he had accomplished quite a bit more than anyone had expected from his father's son. Here he was where it was entirely correct to speak as near equals with a princess. He should have learned more from his time hunting as a golden wolf, but the primal confidence didn't seem to last very long after returning to his mortal form.

"Thank you, ma'am. I..." He paused. While he hadn't scanned her, he had spent enough time in close proximity to her that his passive openness to the aether around him that having a Rune of Animus in common had just resonated. He knew she bore one, though he had purposely not focused on it so he didn't know which spirits she had bonded to.

"I have always heard you were a supporter of the arts, ma'am, but I think you are also an artist. Artist and art at the same time. As some prima donna on the stage, but your stage is the world." It might have been cheeky from anyone else, but he was so earnest.

"I see you, Maker. You are doing the good work."

He bowed.