The good doctor took a break from his morning rounds to admire his work sleeping behind the glass. Filling the entirety of the 4 by 10 cylindrical tank was an engorged mass riddled with pulsating veins. The doctor’s crimson eyes moved upwards, and he spotted the shadow of a finger, a bulge that was once a foot and in the top right corner, pressed against the glass were three closed slits and two tiny nostrils between them.

  What was once human was torn apart and reformed into a cocoon of flesh and the good doctor sensed a steady pulse deep within. Her Aether heart is healthy and emitting a great deal of Aether. The other four tanks are doing well but hers is certainly the loveliest creature out of the bunch.

  The good doctor’s pale lips formed a smile. “This is good, another high quality batch.”

  “That’s perfect, Master!” shouted a voice behind him. “We finally found the golden method.”

  The good doctor turned to his apprentice, a vigorous young man who shared the same lowly brown hair and humble station as he did in his youth, and nodded.

  His apprentice’s brown eyes widened with mad joy, and he stood next to his master. “Can I be next?”

  The good doctor shook his head and left the tanks for his desk on the other side of his dissection room. His dutiful apprentice followed him in step as they passed the vast cabinets and shelves filled with all manners of bottles and instruments. He always asks me this when he hits a wall in his development.

  The good doctor remained silent, his steps clicking across the tile floor was his only reply. But his constitution is still too weak for this, and he knows that.

  They passed the metal table with arm and leg restraints at the center of the room that permeated the stench of industrial grade cleaner and the doctor sat down at his desk. There, he went back to studying tissue samples underneath his microscope.

  His apprentice sighed and then said, “Follow a strict diet, train from dawn to dusk, but...”

  “You are making progress. I taught you everything you need to know at your current level.”

  “Yes master, you keep saying that, but I need help getting out of this plateau.”

  Too impatient.

  The good doctor looked up from his work to the top shelf, housing a row of jarred Aether hearts specimens, each of the spherical organs were terminally deformed, some blackened with hard lesions and a few torn from a rupture. His eyes rested on the picture frames placed in front of them, and he picked up the one of him and his expedition team. This is what started it all. What a wondrous time.

  Look at me, I thought I was at the height of my career and even still I thought of myself as nothing but an ugly, wretched creature among celestial beings. But most of them are dead now and I surpassed the sole survivor.

  He scoffed at the demure violet haired woman wearing a pith helmet, and gaberdine coat and trousers. To think I saw myself as an ant beside them.

  He heard his apprentice murmur and walk away. I already told him this story, that is enough encouragement. He just needs to keep going.

  The good doctor's gaze drifted over her to another old friend, a speckled young man with snow-white hair and orange eyes that glowed as brilliant as his mind. Lord Winston the Wise, Hrmph, Lord Winston the Fool. He wouldn't be six feet under if he listened to me! Backstabber! Snitch… Still I miss him.

  He then looked at the towering brute of a woman, robust in build, with sharp eyes and raven black hair. The good doctor chuckled to himself. A linguist, who were they fooling? Those two getting together always amused me, beauty and the beast in reverse. But they both died miserably and for what?

  He slammed the picture frame back on the shelf and sat at his desk.

  And that kid of theirs…

  He raised his brow. Come to think of it! How old is my sad excuse of a godson, now? 17, 18, no 19! Hell’s Bells! How much time has flown by? He is a man now. Thrown into a pit of viper with the same feeble condition he had since birth… He won’t last.

  The good doctor looked up and saw his apprentice about to exit the door and called out, “Jett!”

  Jett stopped. “Master, is there something wrong?”

  “Perhaps, you will benefit from a change in pace. There is something I need you to do for me.”

  “You’ll handle this house, alright?” Casimir stopped in front of a quaint green house with triangular eaves and waited for his taller, broad shouldered cousin to catch up. The early morning light shone through the cherry trees that lined the roads on this block and formed shadow and light patterns on them and the herringbone sidewalk.

  Still so much to do, before I can follow up on my hunch. He thought while skimming through the long list of Weavers on his clipboard.

  But I can always kill a couple of birds with one stone, maybe the Weavers on the street might know something about these bad batches. Casimir nodded when he confirmed the address and continued, “The owner also operates a herbal tonic business. He is up on his permit but he is a week behind on his Weaver licensing fees.”

  His cousin, Jakes, squinted his eyes that were as dark as their padded uniforms and rubbed his square jaw. “Do any of the Weavers on this street pay on time?”

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  Casimir gave him a conciliatory smile and suppressed a laugh when he watched his cousin face contort into an expression of frustration and disbelief. “Apparently, they are fine with giving the money to us directly and paying the late fee, than…” He let out a sigh and scratched his silver hair. “...Making it easier for everyone by mailing it or paying it at their local guild office.”

  Jakes shrugged. “Well at least the Weavers here are nicer than the ones at the capital. I–well you know why I was sent here.”

  Casimir’s smile became broader and more genuine. “I don’t blame you for decking him, but I wouldn’t have accepted coffee from people I collect money from.”

  “It’s customary, a mutual civility between a guest and host. To poison good coffee is unforgivable, especially when shared between a fellow public servant. ” Jakes paused, then added when he saw Casimir raise a brow. “That is what Lord Iker said.”

  “Yes, that sounds like uncle.” Casimir stepped back and gestured for Jakes to take the lead. “Remember what I told you.”

  Jakes grinned. “Show strength, confidence, and move like you have a reason for being here.”

  “Good, I’ll hang back if you need me.” Casimir patted him on the shoulder and watched Jakes knock on the green panel door.

  After a minute or so, they heard a young woman yell, “Coming!” in a tired voice.

  The door creaked open with the chain still attached and a woman in her twenties peered through the crack with heavy eyes. After rubbing the sleep out of them, she got a good look of Jakes and her eyes widened. “Oh wow, you are flipping huge!”

  Jakes clenched his teeth together in a forced smile. “Excuse me, miss… Is Mr. Peters here? I am here to see him.”

  “I don’t know…what would a non-Aether wielding type like yourself of…” She looked him up and down. “questionable countenance and intimidating stature would want with my sweet old grandpa? ”

  “He owes…”

  The door slammed on his face.

  “Heh.” Jakes’ shoulders slumped a little. “Questionable countenance..”

  Casimir shook his head and knocked on the door. This girl is new and beyond clueless.

  “Go away! Before I call the cops!” The woman shouted from the other side of the door.

  “Open up, we are with the Inquis! We are here to collect his licensing fees!” Casimir pointed to his silver inquisitor badge pinned to his chest, of a crow with a magnifying glass and a sword.

  The woman cracked the door open again. The guarded look on her face disappeared when she saw Casimir and was replaced with excitement. “Wait, you're the guy on the posters! Can I–!”

  “Ally, back away from the door!” called out an old grouchy voice.

  The woman was pushed away from the door and Casimir saw Mr. Peters’ wrinkled face peering at him through the crack. “Ah, Casimir is here.”

  The latch chain on the door was removed and swung open to reveal a tiny mustached man in his 60’s dressed in a tweed sweater. Behind him was a doe eyed woman dressed in a polka dot day dress. Her light blonde hair was cut into a bob. Mr. Peters adjusted his glasses and squinted when he noticed Jakes. “And a new one?”

  Jakes nodded politely. “Hello, I’m Inquisitor Jakes, sir.”

  “But Grandpa he’s, he’s, he’s.” The woman stuttered while pointing at Casimir.

  Mr. Peters patted her hand. “No… he is someone else. Go make some coffee for our guests.”

  Jakes’ left eye twitched..

  Casimir shook his head. “Thank you for the hospitality, but we have many more houses to visit today. ”

  Mr. Peters frowned. “That is too bad. Another time then.” He patted his pockets. “ Aw. there it is.”

  He reached into his sweater pocket and handed Casimir a yellow envelope, who then passed it onto Jakes to count.

  “Thank you,” Casimir then lowered his voice. “There is one more thing. Have you heard anything about a new Weaver setting up an unlicensed shop and taking in students despite not being a Master Weaver?”

  Mr. Peters furrowed his brow. “Here! Oh heavens, no! I’ll make sure to call you if I do. We don’t need any of those types here.”

  Casimir turned to Jakes who nodded in confirmation that all of the money was there. Casimir smiled. “Thank you for your time. ”

  “Take care, gentlemen.” Peters gave Casimir a look of pity and closed the door.

  Casimir got his pen and checked off his list. “Well that is five down… we have twenty more to go.”

  Jakes shrugged. “No problem, I could get used to this.”

  They continued their walk down the empty street. Only one car and two couples out on a morning stroll past them by the road, since their trek here. The ateliers, guilds, and Weaver shops selling tonics and pattern books just opened at 10 and the customers usually didn't trickle in until later.

  “This place is nice,” said Jakes. “I could get used to living down here.”

  Casimir admired the thousands of red clay bricks that were fired and laid to form his fair town’s beautiful herringbone roads, residences, restaurants and department stores. The weaver district had a great bit of money put into landscaping to attract tourists. Although the capital is a wondrous testament of Nivilies might, the people up there ruin it.

  Casimir's face beamed with joy. “Yes, Dul Sylva is the only place that feels like home.”

  After they were finished with the residences, they turned down to the shopping district filled with Aetherian pattern shops, ateliers and stores that sold tonics made from herbs infused with Aether. There were more people out and about now but they moved leisurely.

  They should be open now. Casimir checked his list. “We will go to Atticus Salamander’s Alchemical Emporium next.”

  Casimir looked up at Jakes for a response and saw him looking at the recruitment posters taped on the window of a pattern shop. A group of kids was running down the street and nicking a poster of their heroes off of the windows.

  Casimir smiled bitterly at the man on the silver haired man on the poster and walked up to Jakes. “Jakes, did you hear me?”

  “Yes. Atticus’s Emporium.” Jakes tore his gaze away from the poster.

  After walking in silence for a while Jakes carefully spoke, “So how was your tenure at the capital? Was it any easier since they revere Lord Winston for that miracle drug he made for them? ”

  “No…” Casimir frowned. “Well while I never had someone try to poison me and then try to set me on fire for punching them in the face. ”

  Jakes nodded.

  “Most of them were not thrilled to see that I didn’t inherit my father’s talents. To them I failed his legacy, so I was often met with contempt.”

  “Ah, so pity is better than contempt.”

  “I find both of them annoying, but at least the Weavers here seem to accept that I was born without an Aether heart. I can live with that. ”

  In the corner of his eye, Casimir spotted Quigley, a young man around his age leaving one of the pattern shops with his purchase. A tuft of brown hair stuck out of place and he looked stressed.

  “Quigley! How are you doing this morning?” Casimir waved.

  The young man returned his wave with an unconformable smile, then slipped down an alleyway.

  “Hmm, he never seems to have time to talk, anymore.”

  “Do you want to go follow him?” Jakes asked.

  “No, I’m sure it’s nothing. He is probably preparing for the next semester. I heard that some Weaver students are assigned projects over the break. ”

  “Brutal. That couldn’t be me.”