The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield

Chapter One-Hundred-Five: City Tourists – Part Two

Our next destination was the Artisan Market, a vibrant outdoor shopping center exploding creatively. Stalls, tents, and open-air studios stretched across multiple floors, each a small glimpse into a world dedicated to a different artistic pursuit.  

Painters occupied the lower level. Two dozen sat patiently at their stations, each stall spilling with bright colors and unique art styles as hungry shoppers ate at the nearby food court.    

“Are the portrait people painting them?” asked Ami.   

“They are. Those who wish to hone their skill can come here and use whatever they desire as inspiration. If you're lucky, someone who drew you will give you their illustration as thanks for being an excellent model.”  

Abstract landscapes, delicate portraits, and murals of mythical creatures lined every wall. Some artists painted enormous canvases on the spot, inviting spectators to watch the art take shape with each brushstroke. The smell of paint and oil hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of flowers mixed into various pigments to add an extra ‘oomph’ to the paint.   

The guide took us to the second floor, which was dedicated to sculptors who worked with materials ranging from polished marble to shimmering clay.    

There were figures frozen mid-dance--sculptures of animals with intricately carved fur. Even statues that seemed to glow or hum quietly when touched. Here and there, enchanted wind chimes carved from translucent stones caught the breeze, adding a delicate sound to the market’s lively ambiance.  

The third floor—the biggest—went to the musicians. The dozens of shops had almost every instrument imaginable, from handmade violins to finely crafted flutes—there were even instruments enchanted with time magic that played a short, prerecorded tune. Of course, materials and supplies to create or repair your gear could also be bought, along with carrying cases, accessories, and other amenities.    

However, the spectacle on the first floor attracted my attention the most. In the center of everything sat a grand piano beneath a small, unassuming pavilion. The pianist’s fingers flowed over the keys to produce a joyful, lifting melody that fit the lively scene around us. The music flowed smoothly—a bright tune that made your stomach feel warm and fuzzy while instilling a desire to enjoy the day.    

The fourth floor was the most expensive because half was dedicated to jewelers. Priceless diamonds, exquisite sapphires that glimmered with the deep coolness of the ocean, flaming rubies warm to the touch…  

However, not everything cost an arm or a leg. You could find flawed gems with imperfections for a ‘reasonable’ amount, yet even those were carefully guarded by armed soldiers behind locked cases.  

The other half tended to those practicing the art of ceramic, which, while vastly cheaper than its shared soul, still attracted just as much attention. The details on the plates the guide showed us astounded even Sera with how meticulous the crafter must’ve been.   

The fifth floor—the final-- contained everything you couldn’t fit in the previous four, such as journals, tapestries, rugs, and the like.    

These people aren’t half-assing it, that’s for sure. You must admire their dedication.  

The tour guide then gave us thirty minutes of free time to shop at our leisure before regrouping in the food court. “Oh, please take these,” she said, retrieving something hidden within her papers. They looked like business cards. “Lord Gloria has authorized their use. Whatever you buy will be added to her tab, so show them to the shopkeeper upon checking out.”  

“We don’t have to pay?”  

“Indeed, Lord Springfield. Lord Gloria had proclaimed it wouldn’t be right for honored guests to empty their wallets.”  

“Well, if you insist,” I replied, taking them. We went our separate ways after I handed them out.    

Tris had waypoints marked on everyone—might as well use them for their intended purpose.   

I wandered around with Sekh while gently holding her hand. Everyone gave us a wide berth. Was it because I was a High Elf? Was Sekh’s armor that frightening?  

The reason didn’t matter.   

Regardless, the shopkeepers and guards must’ve gotten the memo because no one approached us after we descended to the third floor. There, we reunited with Yew, Surtr, Tilde, Tris, and Sera, who were looking at the harps. They greeted us while I investigated the nearby flutes behind a display case.  

“Are you thinking about getting another one?” asked Sekh.   

“No. I…feel nothing. Don’t get me wrong—they’re excellent quality. They’re made with care, but I only want to play mine. It feels…almost like a betrayal if I pick something up.”  

“Your feeling is natural, sister,” said Sera.  “Us High Elves treat our instruments as extensions of their body. Oh, I have an idea.” She turned to Tilde as Yew and Surtr wandered away. “Something like the harp would be perfect to help regain the strength in your fingers.”  

“I was thinking about that. My wrists are feeling better, but…” Tilde struggled to form a fist. “Yeah, that’s not happening. It feels like I’m grabbing a bag of nails by the pointy end. Master, can I get one?”  

“Sure. Pick out whatever you like, okay?”  

“Great! Thanks a ton, hon! Now…which one do I choose…?” Tilde acted like it was some world-influencing choice, but it wasn’t. She had made her decision just four seconds later. My precious fairy displayed her skills after flashing the payment card to the shop’s owner.    

It wasn’t good.   

I loved my maid, but that… ‘music’—the loosest definition—sounded like a dead horse begging to die. 

“Hmm… They say the worst you are at something means you have much more to grow.”  

“That’s…a positive spin on it,” said Sekh.   

“Sera! Mila! Look what me and Surtr bought!” Yew came bouncing near us with a bag full of…grass?  

“Oh? That’s songleaf.” The elf smiled, plucking a bundle. “That brings me back to my childhood. I was just about your size—maybe a hair taller. Susize helped me pick the materials for my first flute from our garden.”  

“Umm… Am I ready for that?”  

“I don’t see why not. It can be a fun experience.”  

“Then…can you teach me? I don’t know where to begin.”  

“Gladly. We’ll make one together, okay?”  

“Okay!” Yew’s smile was precious as she asked me to put the bag in a safe spot. There was no better vault than my storage, after all. A near-infinite, if not outright infinite, space only Tris and I could access was the most secure location I could think of.  

“What about you?” asked Sera. “Have you any experience?”  

“I’m afraid not,” I replied as Susize’s memories brought me to the past. She knew how to craft them—I didn’t, so it wasn’t a total lie. “This’ll be my first if you’ll be my instructor.”  

“Leave it to me! Although I can’t guarantee it’ll be better than Susize’s flute… That’s an impossible standard, though. It’ll be almost as good. Maybe… I hope…”   

“We’re looking forward to your guidance, aren’t we?” I looked at Yew.   

“Yep! Definitely! We’ll be good students.”  

“I know you two will.”  

We left the store.   

“What about you?” asked Tilde, looking at Sekh.   

“What about me?”  

“The only thing you’ve been grabbing is Master’s hand. We’re in a pretty awesome shopping center. I know there’s something you want.”  

“Tilde’s right,” I replied. “Do you want anything? We still have time before we gotta meet up."  

"That’s kind—really. But I have all I need. I don’t need anything else.”  

“An expected yet boorish answer.” Tilde rolled her eyes. “I give it 0 points. Try again, Little Miss Lioness. Remember, I said ‘want,’ not ‘need.’”   

“Maybe…” Sekh peered over the railing before looking up. Her eyes observed every nook and cranny. “I think…I want a journal,” she finally said.   

“Oooh, now we’re getting somewhere. Onwards, Master.”  

“A journal, huh? Are you feeling retrospective?” Sera inquired as we set off.    

“Yes, but also no. I want to write things I want to accomplish in the future.”  

“Maybe you can start with some fun things to do with Erin?”  

“Do you two have plans?” asked a curious Sera. Her ears lightly twitched.    

“She wants to spend time with me,” explained Sekh. “It has to be special, so why not start now? I need—want to prepare for it.”  

“I see. Well, consider my forest available as a setting.”  

“You’d do that?”  

“I would. I’m happy to. So is the forest if it can bring smiles. Has Erin met Lord Aetos?”  

“Not directly,” I replied. “He knows of her, though.”  

“Your offer’s kind, Sera. Thank you.”  

“You’re welcome.”  

We arrived at the fifth floor and searched for the perfect journal, with Sekh eventually settling on one with a rather unique cover. It was blank, but the material absorbed paint like a sponge, so it could be whatever you wanted. All Sekh had to do was think of what she wanted.   

That little adventure took up the rest of our time, so we headed to the food court to find the rest of our group snacking on a chicken skewer.   

“Welcome back,” cheerfully said the guide, who was acting much more casual. “Did anything catch your eye?”  

“A few things,” I replied, sitting, telling them of our purchases. “What about you?”  

“I found a ceramic plate,” said Greggie. “It’d work nicely as a serving tray. Ami picked it out.”  

“Guess that means you might be baking some cookies? Hint hint.”  

“Haha. Hint received, Tilde.”   

“Keeth and I found some awesome-looking clay.” Elly retrieved a wooden box. She opened it, revealing four rectangular, brightly colored blobs.   

“My hands are still recovering, but it’s softer than sand. It shouldn’t retain its rigidity, yet it does. I think it’ll be therapeutic.”  

“That’s an accurate assumption. It’ll hasten your recovery,” added Tris.   

Mary and Melusine looked at some jewelry. “Someone tried to buy my tiara,” said the queen. “However, I won’t sell it for anything. All the money in the world cannot fill the void parting with it will leave behind.” 

“As it should,” replied Sera. “It’s priceless not in value but in its sentiment.”   

Quella purchased a few books. “I haven’t had time to read. I don’t know when I can change that, but it’s better to have something waiting for me than nothing.”  

Niva and Primrose did nothing. They almost immediately went to the court with Lei to wait on us. Suppose I couldn’t blame them. The tour was supposed to be fun, yet…  

It was probably a slow, subdued torture for Niva. The memories couldn’t be pleasant. The emotions were uncomfortable enough to make the air taste stale.   

Niva subtly flinched after realizing I was staring at her. She exchanged glances with Primrose. I was close enough to them to read their emotions via their body language. Primrose, especially. Her eyes were so expressive if you knew just where to look.    

They didn’t want us to stop on their account.  Niva’s loosely formed fist said she had to be strong. The discomforting butterflies in her stomach had to be ignored if she yearned to conquer this part of her life.    

“Oh, Ms. Tour Guide?” Elly raised her hand. “I have a question about something.”  

“I shall answer it.”  

“Does Requiesta have singing plants? I overheard a conversation about that.”  

“Ah, they must’ve been referring to the Melody Garden. Yes, that's another of Requiesta’s landmarks. It’s on the itinerary. We could depart now if you’re finished eating?”  

Everyone’s plate was clean. Without further ado, we continued the tour with full bellies. 

*****

*****

“Oh?” Sera’s and mine ears wiggled after our vessel rounded a corner. There, in the distance, sat a stone archway covered in flowering vines. Beyond that stretched a lush, expansive green wonderland. 

“I present you one of Requiesta’s most famous attractions… Welcome to the Melody Garden,” said our guide as we passed the threshold. Vividly green paths wound between clusters of vibrant flora. Each area felt alive with color and light, but what stood out the most was the hum of gentle music filling the air.  

The sound didn’t originate from any hidden musicians or instruments—no. The culprits were all around us.     

“They’re singing… The plants are really singing… I’ve never seen anything like this before…” Elly gripped the railing and looked out with the brightest smile. Her eyes didn’t know what to land on first.  

Sera giggled. “I had the same reaction when I first learned about them. The plants aren’t really singing. You feel the breeze, yes? It’s the wind behind the phenomenon, but that doesn’t detract from its beauty. I think it’s wonderful something like this even exists in the first place.”   

We departed the carriage. Elly almost bolted off, except the idol remembered where we were and refrained from acting ‘totally’ out of line. Together, the group walked down the different paths, observing clusters of flowers. The soft, bell-like chimes rose and fell with the tender wind. Each plant sang in its own unique pitch. With the calls of birds and rustling leaves, we were greeted by a natural symphony that resonated throughout the entire garden.   

The guide stopped by a section filled with tall, slender flowers. They swayed in union—their notes airy and pristine. “This is the Lyrica Cluster,” she explained. “Please remember their sound. Now, watch what happens when I walk by.” Every step elicited a change in pitch. “They respond to the insignificant change in wind brought about by movement. Some children find it fun to run up and down. Others form teams and compete to see who can create the best song using nothing but these clusters. Oh, if we head over there…”   

The guide skipped away—the Lyrica Cluster pitching its tune higher to befit her bubbly attitude. She stopped at a large, willow-like tree. This one released deep, resonating notes that reminded me of a cello’s voice.   

The Melody Garden was really like a living orchestra. Nature itself was the conductor.  However, the attraction was small. Even a child could see everything it had to offer in fifteen minutes.    

“Every plant here has been cultivated to produce a specific sound,” the guide explained as we returned to the carriage. Her voice was low because she didn’t want to disturb the garden’s music.   

“Cultivated?” I asked. “Do you mean they aren’t natural?”  

“They are. You can find flowers like these in the wild. The Harmonia Institute has devised a breeding and pollination plan to nurture seeds and saplings into whatever shape is desired to obtain the necessary tone. It’s a fine science, I would say. It requires a delicate touch, patience, and a sharp ear. The garden is renovated every other year with the lab’s cultivations.”   

"What happens to the flowers?” I asked after seeing the grimace on Elly’s face. She gripped the railing even harder than before.    

“They’re auctioned or given away as raffle prizes in the festival to commemorate the garden’s finished renovation. Rest assured, Lord Springfield. The plants are never wasted. They always go to a welcoming home.”  

Elly subtly breathed in relief as color returned to her fingertips.    

“…”  

“What’s wrong, Master? Anything on your mind?”   

“Well… You said there’s a lab associated with the institute responsible for the garden.”  

“I did. Would you like to see it?”  

“Not at the moment, no. There’s another place I’d like to visit. You see…” I told her about my father’s previous job before he was transferred away.   

“I’m sorry, but the name ‘Kokan’ isn’t familiar to me.”  

“Well, it was about fifteen years ago. I don’t know if anyone still remembers him. His coworkers may have forgotten him.”  

“Only one location teaches physical combat, ancient literature, and magic theorization. Would you like to go there?”  

“If it isn’t too much of a hassle.”  

I can always investigate with a clone or two after night.  

“Not at all. It’s actually on the way to our next destination. Now, shall we set off?” 

*****

*****

“So… This is where he worked at, huh?” I whispered to myself, taking in the campus before me. It was a branch academy, so it was smaller than full-fledged schools, yet its ‘worth’ or ‘value’ wasn’t diminished.   

It was still a very respected establishment—focusing on more than mere music and the arts.   

I suppose it wasn’t often you’d see a carriage like this, so even the busy students rushing from class to class stopped to stare as we disembarked.  

“…” Quella remained quiet although she locked eyes with Mary. Those two probably thought about ‘their’ school—the fake one—the one that never existed in the first place.  

I still don’t know how to tell them the truth. There’s probably not a gentle way, but that’s a problem for later. One step at a time, Mila.   

“The classes your father taught are in there,” said the guide, pointing eastward to a rather unassuming building. We followed her through a courtyard filled with lush greenery. Tables and chairs were set up, and curious eyes locked into us. “This spot is special,” explained the guide. “Many students come here to relax, eat, or enjoy some time away from their studies.” Our guide pointed to the fountain standing in the middle. “Do you see the music note within the waterfall? It’s not just a sculpture. It plays a relaxing melody every hour.”  

“How does it do that?” asked Quella.   

“That’s a closely guarded secret, I’m afraid. I’m not privy to the details.”  

Tris?  

[Sound Magic] is the answer. The note has two enchantments—one to produce the music, and another to absorb fragments from mana from the water running through the fountain’s pipes. The note’s mana capacity threshold is reached every hour on the hour. A preliminary search has revealed documents claiming [Time Magic] is responsible, yet that’s not the case. There’s not a shred of it to be found. I surmise Gloria has spread that rumor to make it seem grander than it is because there’s a barrier preventing most forms of magic analysis.   

Although initially unintentional, we began constructing her psyche profile from things most people wouldn’t give a second or third look to.   

Just shows you how much info is hidden in plain sight.    

After passing through the courtyard, we reached the building. It wasn’t anything ‘special.’ To me, it was normal. Hallways, doors, windows, bulletin board—it had all the staples.    

“Hmm? Giving a tour? I don’t remember reading that on the schedule this morning.” I turned around and saw a lazy-looking gnome with shaggy hair emerge from a door marked ‘Faculty Office.’ That deep voice didn’t fit his appearance.  

“It wasn't planned,” I replied. “Can you answer a question for me? If you don’t mind, that is.” 

“Sure. Why not?” The laissez-faire tone was strangely soothing. I asked him about my dad. “You say he taught here about fifteen years ago? Sorry, that was before my time. I’ve only been here a decade.”  

“That’s fine. I figured that’d be the case.” I asked for directions to the classes Dad taught, and we were off.   

The first—Physical Combat—as the basic name described—explained the obvious. It was a class where you learned to fight. The room was a training hall located in the east wing. Wooden dummies lined the back wall. A weapon cache sat opposite. Everything was wooden, so this wasn’t ‘life or death’ training. Students were still students, I guess.   

“Most would be sparring at this time,” explained the guide. Everyone turned when they heard her voice. “However, we’ve caught them preparing for an expedition.”  

“That’s right.” The speaker was a large, muscled man with three eyes. He approached with crossed arms. A massive sword was hefted across his wide back. “Are you here for a tour? We’re about to set off for the Whispering Caves, so I’m afraid I can’t spare the proper hospitality.” He then turned around and reminded everyone not to forget their lutes.    

“It’s fine. This was last minute on my part. Can you answer a question for me, though? I won’t take up any more of your time.”  

“Aye, I can do that.”  

“It’s about an oni named Kokan. Have you heard of him? He used to teach here.”  

“Kokan, eh? Let me think…” The triclops closed his eyes. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry.”  

“It was fifteen years ago, so I expected this. I wish you and your students well in their dungeon delve."  

"That’s 0 for 2, Master,” said Tilde as we left. “I think you might be out of luck.”  

“You’re probably right. Just being here is enough, I suppose.”  

“If it pleases you, Lord Springfield, I could send a message in tomorrow’s briefing asking if anyone knew him.”  

“The offer’s kind, but I’ll pass on it. Although…can we walk by the other two classrooms? I won’t interrupt any lecture—I’m merely curious about…what he may have looked like when standing at the podium.”  

The guide said that wasn’t an issue, but nothing came of it.  

The Ancient Literature class was in a small, cozy lecture hall. The walls were lined with shelves filled with worn tomes and scrolls, and the air carried the faint scent of old paper. Parchment and quills were strewn about on the large desk in front. 

A discussion was underway, so I stared for a moment through the window before leaving. But for a moment… I saw Dad. My visualization had him writing something knowledgeable on the chalkboard. Maybe it was for an upcoming exam. Or something he thought they needed to know. Dad was a favorite. Perhaps a group would gather around after class had ended to compliment his teaching style.   

I can hear his voice, steady and patient as always, recounting some epic poem...  

I knew he was popular. He had a heart kinder than most.  

I just…  

I…  

…  

A quiet sigh failed to escape as we moved to the Magic Theorization classroom. Like Ancient Literature, it was a lecture hall, except the chalkboard was swathed in complex diagrams, charts, and runes. Glass orbs freely floated near the ceiling, glowing softly with remnants of residual magic. Each was linked to a student, and I saw the connecting chain of mana. Niva did, too, with her [Mana Perception] eye. She stared silently before glancing at Primrose.   

The instructor—a white-haired man with wings folded across his stomach—erratically sketched another rune on the board. The students hastily copied it into their notes, but by the time they were finished, the instructor had moved into something else.  

It was clearly a fast-paced environment. Did Dad teach like that? He wasn’t as eccentric as this winged-man, so the level of chaotic energy was probably much lower. You didn’t have to be a mad scientist to be passionate about something like magic. Some would argue that this teaching style was less effective because fewer students actively desired that chaos.   

Although it didn’t matter. Dad last taught here fifteen years ago. If anything, the place had washed their hands of his involvement. It wouldn’t be hard to pretend he didn’t exist. I knew he was transferred to Ria to work at the academy there, but after the incident?  

Maybe they redacted proof he was ever employed? I doubt many would predict his adopted High Elf daughter would come to investigate, much less the man himself showing up at the city where everything turned upside down.    

Honestly, coming here was probably a waste of time.    

“We can leave,” I said, turning away. “I hope the detour didn’t get us too off track.”  

“Not at all, Lord Springfield. The itinerary was made with flexibility in mind. Our next destination will be the last before we return to the castle for the night."