Dreamweaver.

Seyla stepped out of his house onto the quiet street. A soft evening breeze brushed past him. He heard the faint sound of the nearby river and the distant clip-clop of hooves.

For a moment, he strolled along the riverside with his hands in his coat pockets, sorting through his thoughts. 

"I still need to go to the market. I need better clothes, a wallet, some food," Seyla muttered to himself. He thought about the weight of the coins and notes hidden in his coat. "Wait, how much money do I even have left?"

He paused, running the numbers in his head again. "Madam Rafaela gave me fifty crown notes for the first installment, plus the twelve I had left. That's sixty-two crowns total. Five silver marks, seventeen bronze marks."

A faint sigh escaped him. "That should be enough for two months, if I'm careful. I guess that puts me in the middle class, for now." 

As he walked, the gentle ripple of the river calmed his nerves. His gaze wandered to the city skyline in the distance. 

In his mind, he mapped out what he had learned about L'oreal City. 

"The city's divided into four main areas," he thought. "The north side is called the Flower Borough, mostly houses, noble estates, and quiet gardens. The east side is the River Borough, with households and families, my place is there too." 

His steps slowed as he crossed a small stone bridge. "The west side is the Market Borough, filled with shops, merchants, and streets crowded with stalls and people." 

Then his expression tightened. "The south side is the Factory District. Slums. Smoke everywhere. Crime on every corner. And that's where my first mission will take place, Great." 

He ran a hand through his hair. "The center area is government property. Mayor's house, city bank, library, and park. I should start there to get a good look at the city." 

Just then, a two-wheeled carriage rumbled into view. Seyla raised his hand, and the driver noticed him, steering over. 

"Centre area, please," Seyla said as he climbed aboard. 

"Two silver marks," the driver replied while adjusting his scarf. 

Seyla took a coin from his coat and handed it over without a word, leaning back as the carriage moved forward. 

The ride didn't take long. The streets grew wider, cleaner, and livelier as they got closer. The faint smell of bread, flowers, and polished stone filled the air.

Finally, the carriage stopped. 

"Centre area," the driver announced with a nod. 

Seyla got down and took in the scene before him. 

The Centre area buzzed with life; men wore tidy tunics, and women had flowing dresses, all moving beneath rows of lanterns. Neatly trimmed trees lined the streets, and at the center of the square stood a grand stone fountain. 

Water bubbled gently, sparkling under the warm lantern glow. Seyla's eyes drifted to the bottom of the fountain, where dozens of bronze coins shimmered beneath the rippling water.

"They do that here too," Seyla said softly, amusement lacing his voice. "Toss a coin, make a wish." 

As he stood there with his hands in his pockets, a voice beside him sounded like gravel. 

"Strange tradition, isn't it?" said an older man who stepped up next to him. His voice was deep but friendly. "Toss a coin, make a wish. Everyone does it, even me." 

Seyla glanced over. The man looked about sixty, with bald, tanned skin and a long scar down his cheek. His brown eyes were sharp as polished stone. He wore a tunic and vine-woven belt, blending easily with the crowd. 

The man chuckled when he noticed Seyla's wary look. "Didn't mean to startle you. My name's Carlos Smith." 

Seyla relaxed a bit, nodding. "Seyla. Seyla Veyl." 

Carlos smiled faintly, rolling a coin between his fingers. Without hesitation, he flicked it into the fountain. 

"I hope my wife comes back to life," he said simply. 

Seyla blinked, surprised. "You… want to bring her back? Everyone knows… the dead can't…," he paused, smirking slightly, "unless you're a god." 

Carlos offered a small, weary smile. "I'm a believer in death, you see. The Church of Death teaches that if you have faith, anything is possible. Even that." 

His gaze turned to the rippling water. "I've been a believer for thirty-five years. Still waiting." 

Seyla hesitated. "What happened to her?" 

Carlos's jaw tightened. His eyes darkened slightly. "The war. Caelwyn versus Dove." 

Seyla pressed his lips together. That conflict was still fresh in everyone's memory. 

Carlos continued in a low voice. "I fought for Caelwyn. I swore to protect her, but Dove had the advantage. Their army overwhelmed us and took the city I was stationed in." 

His hand curled slightly at his side. "I ran back for her, but Dove's soldiers were already there. I found her... already gone." 

Seyla stayed silent for a moment. "I'm sorry for asking." 

Carlos waved him off. "It's alright. Talking about it helps." He paused, giving Seyla another look. "Seyla Veyl, huh? From the Veyl household?" 

Seyla furrowed his brows. "The… what?" 

Carlos chuckled lightly. "Old family name. The Veyls have been around for a while. Surprised you didn't know." 

Seyla's thoughts raced. A family with my name? But how? 

Carlos clapped him on the shoulder gently. "If you're curious or need to know a bit of history, come find me. Tulip Hotel, room thirteen, Flower Borough." 

With that, Carlos turned and disappeared into the crowd. 

Seyla lingered for a moment, lost in thought. Veyl household? 

His hand moved to his coat pocket, fingers brushing over the cold, real coins. 

"Too many questions," he murmured. "And not enough answers." 

With that, he turned away from the fountain and blended into the crowd, heading deeper into the heart of the Centre area.