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Chapter 1
Part 2
Ifan left Mari’s office and headed out of the Guild’s officespace, through a maze of hallways and downstairs to the Cartographer’s Archives. The Guild used to be a community hall, before funding to the local borough’s council was cut and it had to be closed. Its vast number of rooms used to be used for all manner of activity: it provided meeting places for townsfolk; sports and exercise rooms; and office space for local politicians amongst others. For the first few years of his tenure with the guild, Ifan found himself regularly getting lost in its vast array of windowless hallways, and its meandering floorplan. Ifan and Mari joined the guild five years ago, about six months after Hephaestus had acquired the building. After a short while, the pair got comfortable and felt a true sense of belonging; the guild became a home away from home, and the guild members like a family.
Finally making it to basement, Ifan peered at the nameplates on each of the doors, counting out in his head as he went, “Cartographer’s, Cartographer’s, should be the seventh room, Cartographer’s.” After a short while, Ifan stopped infront of the seventh doorway and read the nameplate with a furrowed brow. “Found it.”
Ifan pushed open the door and peered around, its darkness enveloping him like a cloak. Reaching to the wall on the door’s right, Ifan pulled a lantern off a hook and lit it, its warm glow illuminating the many shelves full of rolled up parchment. Quickly following the alphabetised shelving, Ifan made his way to the section of the archives storing maps of Fandelran Forest. Grabbing a handful of the scrolls in his free hand, Ifan made his way over to the prospector’s desk and began unravelling them systematically, determining which would be needed to map their journey to Denthir Lake. Several minutes later, Ifan was content that he’d chosen the appropriate maps and made his way back to the ‘F’ shelves, replacing the extraneous scrolls of parchment. He found some leather holders for preserving the maps in transit, and returned to the desk.
Placing the lantern back down, Ifan rolled up the maps tight, packing them into three individual tubes. He stuffed them under his armpit, collected the lantern and made his way out of the archives. Making sure to snuff out the light, Ifan replaced the lantern and closed the door behind him. Better place these back up in my room and head out to town, Ifan thought to himself. He made his way to the dorms as a group of goblins passed him on the stairs, chattering amongst themselves. Each of them was dressed sharply, their small blazers adorned with the guild’s emblem, a griffon on its hind legs. Ifan squeezed up against the wall to let them through, the tubes under his arm becoming unstable as one slid out and rattled down the stairs. One of the green skinned creatures bolted down the stairs, “I got it!”, with outstretched arms, he pursued the leather holder as it gently rolled into the door to the archives.
“Thanks.” Ifan reached down with his freer hand and accepted the map from the helpful guild member.
“Not a problem,” the goblin smiled, his dagger-like teeth forming a gleaming maw, “You’re Ifan right? I’m Demetri, you and your sister came and dropped off some relic from the ruins over by the river Rhiw last week.”
“Ah yeah, nice to see you again, Demetri. How’s your wife? You mentioned that she was pregnant.” Ifan rearranged the maps under his arm as the other members of Demetri’s group continued into the archives.
“She’s doing well, thanks for asking.” Demetri pulled his hand back from the space between the two of them, having lingered for a brief period unintentionally, “Not long yet, should be looking forward to a new member of our family by the end of the month.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. Well, you have my congratulations. Have a great day.” Ifan smiled back to the goblin, as he slowly turned his body back up the stairs, indicating not so subtly that he wanted to leave.
“You too – best of luck on whatever quest Hephaestus has got you on this week!” Demetri waved lightly at Ifan as he turned his back to him. Stepping back down the stairs, Demetri opened up the door to the archives, his team members’ discussions echoing through the open passageway and disappearing up the stairs beside Ifan.
Ifan made his way to the ground floor of the guild, and exited out into the guild’s private gardens. Lush greenery swelled in every corner of the space; exotic trees and flowers were splashed in and amongst more common Inarellian flora, their vibrant colours and odd shapes creating a dissonance that mirrored the guild’s varied membership.
Crossing the well-maintained quad at the centre of the garden, Ifan made his way to a glass-fronted annex of the guild hidden amongst the tall trees. He opened the large glass doors to the annex’s foyer; its long reception hallway lit only by the dappled light from the outside. Shadows crawled throughout the space as Ifan stepped further into the building. Ifan’s footsteps echoed around the silent hallways; it was fast approaching mid-morning, and it seemed that most of the guild members were already up and about seeing to their business for the day.
Ifan soon arrived at his room. Situated towards the back of the building, its windows depicted the city streets and the esteemed Inarellian architecture of the Crown District of Treffynnon. Ifan placed the maps down on his desk and took a seat. Staring out the window, Ifan watched as the crowds of people drifted past. Across the road, Ifan could see a half-ogre in an apron with his hand on the back of his head – as a smaller person, who Ifan assumed was a gnome, wagged his finger furiously at him. Ifan smiled as he idly absorbed the goings-on just outside his room. Musing to himself, he pulled out a small diary bound with string from his bedside table. Using the inkwell left out on his desk, Ifan scribbled down notes on the people walking outside his window: Looks like people are paring down their outfits, sure signs of seasons shifting. Goodbye, Spring, hello, Summer. Alongside his notes, Ifan quickly sketched a tableau of his viewpoint, a man with mottled brown hair holding a old wooden umbrella, dressed in a light cotton shirt with an open collar. Soon after finishing, Ifan replaced his diary and gathered his things. Strapping his leather rucksack to his back, and grabbing his small cloth coinpurse, Ifan patted himself down, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Assuring himself that he had all he would need for his outing to town, he opened his bedroom door and made his way out to the back entrance of the dormitories.