Silah - Hakaar is always saying how much he dislikes Dowry. I find it charming and full of adventure. The costal breeze and sunny sky were a stark change to the underground tomb that is the Hlofolk Tunnel.
Dowry was all dressed up for a celebration of sorts. The Princess had accommodated a handful of nobles that desired a competition be played out on the streets of the port town. Hakaar and Floki had volunteered to participate in the race. Floki as a driver and my bond as a “Humper” a term the more astute alchemists used to define the role of one whose job is it to keep the motor pod running through sheer brut strength, a role for which my man is most singularly suited.
Danan and Sig had been asked to drive in the name of the Princess; her crew being injured while practicing for the event. The day of the race was thrilling. Hakaar had entrusted me with placing a bet near the public house called Fanton’s. This shady establishment was holding a fair number of our coins and I wanted to protect our investment. Hakaar agreed when I suggested that I stay behind to keep an eye on things. As he wandered off with his fiends and business partners, I was struck that this was the first time we were to be truly separated since our bonding. As I felt him slip outside of our bond, I also knew the discomfort he would feel as a result. The moment faded from my focus as the event got underway. From my vantage point on the upper deck of Fanton’s I had a spectacular view of the day’s activity.
I have watched the progress of society for some time, marveling ad the advancement of magic and the relatively new art of alchemy. Sig’s father had purchased an coach powered by this evolving art some weeks ago. Now we were witnessing the birth of a new sport based on that same craft.
From the second floor perch I could see where the pilots were lined up on foot across from the vehicles they called landframes. Tucked in the rear-facing seat sat the engineers, whose job it was to maintain the motor pod during the race. I could make out Hakaar’s hulking frame tucked awkwardly into the engineer’s seat. Seven other men similarly awaiting the start of the race.
A shot rang out across the plaza and the seven men and one woman sprinted to their vehicles. Within moments the first of them were hurling down the cobbled lane and passing beneath me. Around me the gathered crowds cheered at the spectacle. I waved and shouted along with the others. Hakaar was so consumed by his new role that he didn’t look up from his duties as they passed below. I watched them rumble away down the lane before disappearing around a corner. A crashing sound, followed by the cacophony of frightened chickens issued form the blind corner. The crowd noise boomed with excitement. In the distance the thrumming and squealing of the landframes continued unabated.
In the wake of the racer’s passing those gathered returned to socializing and imbibing. Chatter and rumormongering filling in the space between laps by the competitors. Our recent activities in the Hlofolk Tunnel had not gone unnoticed by the citizens of Dowry. Though I doubt we would be recognized on the street for our accomplishment, Dowry was claiming our accolades as their own.
“Did you hear we cleared out the Tunnel.” I head one man say.
“I knew it would be cleared by our side.” Said another.
“I heard one of them is participating in the race!” Said a serving wench as she filled a neglected pint.
Many spoke of work and trade options that would soon be providing jobs and stability to the less advantaged people of Duman Downs and Six Crates. The festive nature of the race may have owed as much to the renewed optimism afforded by our success clearing the tunnel as the flowing spirits and the competition.
I made a mental note to share what I had heard with the others once we were reunited.
