Journal Entry
Today feels peculiar, I don’t know why. I expect something different to happen. I must get ready for the days work….
Taking a small break from cleaning. The metal shavings are stubborn to get up. The floor has a lot of stickiness from some new substance Father is trying. I don’t know what its for but is supposed to provide a nice sheen to the finished metal…
A dog passed through today in a stagecoach or rather a carriage, much fancier than a stagecoach. His clothing was also fancy, a blue coat with embroidery on the edges and pockets, vest, and off-white shirt frilled at the cuff. darkish pants tucked into knee high boots.
They carriage stopped by our smith shop. A large horse stepped off the driver’s seat. Interestingly this was not driven by four legged beasts but by a horse peddling it like a bicycle. The peddle box must have hidden something magical.
The dog had an odd request for my father, a horse shoe. One large enough for the drivers hoof that matched the left one. The right horseshoe was severely cracked with a piece missing.
Their coin was big, so my father took to their horse show right away.
I was curious, why would someone be out here in such garb? He stood outside and began taking in the view. I asked him where he was going dressed like that?
He was headed to the big city of Mainfield. He is a reporter as he called it, travelling around collecting stories for the city paper. An odd thing for a reporter. Most reporters as I understand stay within the city covering stories within.
He was eager to share his stories. In one of his bags, he pulled out a series of picture paintings. They are made by a camera-contraption that paints an image on canvas of what the camera is pointed at.
The reporter went over the story behind each painting. We could have talked the whole afternoon but after a while my father caught me shirking my duties and sent me back to work.
Journal Entry
Despite, his excitement about his stories from around the land. There was one story he would like to do, if he ever had the time. He told me that our world was not what we think it is that deep inside Webillion is massive caves and giant webs. He said he had seen evidence of this with his own eyes. A giant sinkhole revealed it to him. He had seen deep in the sink hole with a telescope.
I learned that there are those that believe these webs create and sustain the world. A magical energy courses through the webs and giant spiders called the orb weavers create the webs. I thought it was pretty amazing, fantastical even.
I am surprised it wasn’t talked about here. The reporter said its well known throughout the land ever since the sinkhole was discovered. I asked my father. He dismissed it right away. He didn’t believe it and didn’t have time for such superstitious nonsense.
I thought that I could maybe go out and see it for myself. If what the reporter said was true, It would not be hard to locate. It was outside the dog-lands but not too far.
My father does not like the idea of me going off on an adventure I am needed here. I would learn smithing and take over the business. although, I was still too young, even though I just turned 19, and naive as he put it to pick up a hammer and work on the anvil. Father was overly cautious of who he allowed to work the forge.
“Other dogs are built for adventure”, he says, as he points out the Bull Mastiff, John that works in is blacksmith shop. I am just a hound mix not big enough to handle the world, my father would remind me. The only way to get out into the world is to come up with a plan. Maybe an apprenticeship with another smith. My father did mention how I could learn some new skills and bring it to our blacksmith shop, possibly the only reason he would let me go.
I could use the apprenticeship as an excuse. tell my father that I am and then go off on my adventure to the sink hole.
The reporter told me about a library in a nearby town that had information about the sinkhole and the inner world web. If I was interested, I could go there. I even had a map drawn out by the reporter. If I was ever interested in reporting, he could use the help. he gave me his business card……
Journal Entry
weeks later....
I managed to get a day off well sort of. I would take iron wares to a town and see if anyone was interested. The town was on the map nearest to the library the reporter had talked about.
Turns out it was a private library. Invitation only.
I see that the ones allowed in had a wooden card with them and the doorman let them in. The library, a towering structure of marble and crystal, welcomed scholars from across the land. The line to get in is long.
Not wanting to waste a trip I stood in line to see these wooden cards. Peaking at these cards and being careful not to be seen looking, I learned that it was stained wood with the image and name of the person entering. I quickly made some rough sketches of what the cards look like.
I found out the wood the cards are made is a fine cherry wood. Stained semi-dark with the persons likeness etched on the wood. I could get some wood working tools and try to recreate an Identification plaque. It would be a better idea to find out who makes their wooden identification-plaques….
I went through much of the woodworker’s wares, asking plenty of questions. I would need to see one of these special orders if I was to forge one. From what the woodworker says it is very difficult to get invited almost impossible to for a commoner.
I stayed there long enough pretending to shop. The woodworker has to go in the back to get some of his inventory. I was asking about different types of wood he used. While, he was back there I made my move. jumped over the counter to find the work order for my library cards.
Hooray! Turns out it wasnt that hard. He had a bunch of orders. I would just add my information to and order. I copied the writing style as best as I could.
Let’s hope this works.
I purchased a wooden figurine for his trouble. It was a nice piece, a black smith working on an anvil.
The wooden cards should be done within the week.
Journal Entry
a week later....
I went by the wood shop. The wooden cards were still not ready. What a waste of a day off. I could have learned woodwork and made my own card.
I bought another one of his pieces, a cheaper item. I asked the woodworker if he could make me a fancy name card, I could put on my coat. I told him how impressed I was with his library cards.
He would do it along with the order for the library cards. I could pick it up in the next few days. He would do it in exchange for an iron work, since he knew about my work at the blacksmith. I pretended to be a smith not just a helper. something he could display at his store. I told him a wood worker sculpture would fit in well.
I would put in the order with my father. Of course, I would have to pay for it since I made a trade agreement with the woodworker. At least I would be there to get the library card when I came to get the name tag…
The moment of truth had arrived. I had travelled to the next town got my name tag and swiped the library card with my name and likeness on it. I told my dad I was going to drum up business in the next town.
I looked at the others holding their cards worried that mine might not hold up. I hand my card to the doorman. He took some time looking over the card. Did he become suspicious and was looking at some flaw? Another moment and he let me pass. It felt like a close call.
The private library was huge. I could be walking around for hours looking for the subject in mind. Inside, the Head librarian, Lady Seraphina, a stern and imposing woman, greeted the group that I was in.
She laid out the rules of the library:
All books would be handled by the library staff.
You can look through the catalogs to find a book and bring your request to a library staff member.
They would get the book and you can read it in the designated area.
You were to wear special gloves when going through the book.
Any damage to a book would mean immediate ban.
She went through how to use the catalogs. How every book was ordered. The lounge area was spacious. They had amazing drinks. I tried an orange tea, sweetened, very good. I began my search looking through a catalog on historical records.
Journal Entry
I wasn’t moving pages but a mirror contraption that reflected the pages up to me. a clockwork marching moving the pages for me. Seems they don’t want to risk a patron spilling a drink on the catalogs or for that matter some of the books. although paper was free to take notes on.
I had a few notes on titles and authors of books. The summation from the catalog on the books were about people who journeyed to the abysmal sinkhole. I would try these out. I would need to get to reading as the books could not be checked out only read in the library.
I went to a librarian with my selections. The librarian found the section containing the books for geography and another section for archaeology. The sink hole has been studied quite extensively, so much so that it had various disciplines on the history of the site.
the bookcases were all lined up close together on a railing. Huge gears began to turn moving several bookcases to one side. A bookcase was slid forward from the others toward the librarian, moved by another set of gears on a perpendicular track.
In a few moments several books were placed in a glass case that the librarian picked up. She inserted them into another contraption similar to the catalog viewer except this was able to turn a book instead of movie loss pages. I could view the books now.
The sinkhole wasn’t the result of natural phenomenon, according to the information. An underground society had built underground in a network of caves until one day it all collapsed and opened something even deeper.
The reporter was right an abyss extending on seemingly forever. Webs glowing in the abysmal darkness connected to the crust of Webillion. The interior could only be lit from expeditions as the sun could not penetrate that deep.
The web strands so long and thick it could not be created by any known spiders. In the darkness they could hear something giant moving around. the webs strands vibrate heavily under something behemoth.
The book was very engaging. I read it until the library reached closing hours. I would have to save my reading for another day. I didn’t even get to the two other books I had…….
I came back to the library almost a month later when I had free time. The next book goes into the geology of the area. Maybe I could learn something about the location of area. The previous book really didn’t go into how to get the sinkhole.
The sink hole was in the badlands desert. I had precise coordinates. It was managed by a tribe of Bactrian Camels in coordination with the Doglands Government. Calculating the distance it was 500km away. not as close as the reporter made it seem. He probably didn’t know the location either.
Journal Entry
Another book chronicled an explorer’s journey to Sink Hole. It was someone from the Ferret Lands. Interesting that they had a book from someone in a different land. I wondered what other books may be contained within the library, from other parts of the world.
I had a sense the writer embellished his journey. Seemed like he had too many fantastical things happen to him. His detail of the journey was perfect, with drawings and everything. It even had a map. This could be how I get to the sink hole.
To visit the Sink Hole, I decided to fake an apprenticeship for a Smith. I would tell my father that I could pick up new skills to bring back and wouldn’t ruin his precious smith shop practicing new skills. To be fair though when I was younger, he did try to teach me, and I almost burned my face. After that he seemed too hesitant to let me try again. Yet he still thinks I would take over the smithing business when he was too old.
I need an apprenticeship that would take me to the southernmost part of the dog lands. To make the fake apprenticeship seem more legitimate, I could use one of my father’s friends, another black smith. Father had many black smith friends in other towns.
A black smith named Rudy, a boxer breed. No offense to him but he is somewhat gullible. I can get printed information over to him, legitimate enough that he can pass along to my dad.
Not my proudest moment, I sent some correspondents to Rudy as a traveling blacksmith with the fake name Maxwell. Maxwell had been to Rudy’s before, supposedly. Rudy wouldn’t remember the interaction but would still believe it was legitimate. Maxwell was expanding and checking with other blacksmiths for apprentices.
The blacksmith would be heading down to the south to set up shop and needed help. He had some interesting techniques to share with anyone who would be interested. I sent a return address to a box at the postal center. One that I had access to in the neighboring town.
He took to the bait like a bear to honey. It wasnt long before he passed the information to my father. My father’s eye lit up. This was an opportunity he was waiting for. Father shared the news with me.
I pretended to be uninterested and reluctantly came along to his position. Father wanted to send me off straight away. I would be leaving in the next week. Father sent a correspondence to the fake blacksmith. I replied to him as the blacksmith saying I was looking forward to getting a new apprentice.
I loaded up the wagon and prepared for my journey. I even bought another journal to catalog the journey. This one was twice as thick.
I had plenty of rations and a rifle just in case. I asked some other travelers they said the journey down south wouldn’t be dangerous despite what the Ferrett explorer said……..