The dawn cast long amber streaks across the eastern edge of Eastwell as Felix Mavis stood quietly on a five-acre parcel of land—his land. The breeze carried the faint scent of pine and distant river moss. Morning birds chirped faintly, but even nature seemed to lower its voice as if aware of the moment's gravity.
Felix wore a simple but well-fitted robe of dark gray linen, marked by a single metal badge fastened to his chest. It gleamed faintly in the light—the unmistakable sigil of an Adept Talisman Artisan, granted by the Talisman Artisan Guild. It was a mark that commanded respect, silence, and sometimes awe. The badge wasn't merely a symbol; it was a declaration of mastery, of recognition earned through blood, ink, and spiritual fire.
This was no longer just a craftsman's dream.
Adept Talisman Artisans were not common; they were coveted. Letters had arrived daily—offers from merchant houses, sect envoys, even subtle probes from minor nobles. Most he ignored.
Rin, always punctual, joined him moments later. She held a scroll case under one arm and looked around the land with an appraising eye.
"You're really going through with this," she said softly, more observation than question.
"I am," Felix replied. "The estate will stand as a testament—not just to me, but to what it means to walk the path with purpose. Every wall, every rune-etched tile will carry weight."
Rin gave a half-smile. "You sound like a noble. Or a sect founder."
"I'd rather be remembered as a talisman maker who didn't waver."
Soon after, a fleet of three carriages bearing the silver-threaded banners of the Artisan Founder's Guild arrived, their wheels grinding against the gravel path that had only days ago been wild grassland.
The delegation disembarked with practiced elegance. At their lead walked a wide-shouldered man with a steel-gray beard tied into several knotted braids. Each knot shimmered faintly with embedded runic dust—tokens of completed legacy projects. His boots pressed the earth with familiarity, like someone who understood how soil held memory.
He approached Felix and offered a deep bow—deeper than any common greeting.
"Taskmaster Roddak of the Artisan Founder's Guild. It is our great honor to meet you, Adept Felix Mavis. The Guild sends its warmest respect. Few outside the capital ever rise to your station unaffiliated with court or sect."
Felix returned a modest nod, his presence calm but resolute. "Thank you for arriving so swiftly."
"Such summons," Roddak said, glancing briefly at Felix's badge, "demand urgency and excellence. Our guild would not dare treat the commission of an Adept with anything less."
Two others joined the taskmaster. A tall, graceful woman in dark indigo robes—her fingers stained with design ink—gave a respectful bow. "Planner Vi, specialist in artisan sanctums."
And a stoic, broad man with rune-stones embedded in his gloves simply nodded. "Masterworker Jehn," he said, voice low and gravelly. "Structure speaks best in stone."
"Welcome," Felix said, motioning for them to follow. "Let's walk the land."
They moved as one, surveying the terrain carefully. Taskmaster Roddak knelt often to feel the earth, pressing his hand flat and whispering almost silently to himself. Vi released a hovering spiritual sensor that fluttered in soft arcs, mapping leyline interactions. Jehn spoke rarely but made notes with a thumb dipped in chalk, marking boulders and earth ridges.
After nearly an hour, they returned to a shaded area where Rin had prepared tea and seating. Vi was the first to speak.
"You chose well, Adept Felix. There is a leyline convergence here, subtle but strong enough to maintain constant spiritual flow. It will enhance cultivation efficiency while remaining undetected by most formations."
Roddak added, "The terrain is balanced, and the land does not resist change. That's rarer than you'd expect. It means the structures will stand strong—unshaken by time or aura drift."
Jehn looked around, then muttered, "The ground needs to hold purpose."
Felix unfolded a fresh scroll and laid it flat on the table. His own hand-drawn designs took shape—refined, thoughtful, and deeply personalized. Layered with function, artistic symmetry, and clear intent.
"This is not to be a mere residence," Felix began. "It is to be a sanctuary, a forge, a bastion. The central hall will serve as my living quarters, with two wings for future assistants, researchers, or guests. The talisman laboratory must be shielded against interference—multi-layered formation arrays. I need a forge space suitable for refining spiritual alloys, a cultivation terrace connected to the leyline, and underground chambers for vaults and essence storage."
Vi's eyes glittered with excitement. "A fully integrated artisan sanctum. Very few outside the capital ever commission one."
"I also want additional structures," Felix continued, voice firm but calm. "A beast enclosure—nothing ostentatious, but secure. Some spirit beasts shed skin, bone, or hair with talismanic potential. I want that nearby. And a spiritual herb garden. Not just for cultivation use, but as raw materials for my ink and talisman research. Everything should feed into the same purpose."
Taskmaster Roddak placed his calloused fingers on the design, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his gaze was filled with a craftsman's pride and solemn weight.
"This… is the kind of project our guild dreams of being part of. We will treat it as such."
Felix gave a brief nod. "What is your price?"
Roddak replied without hesitation.
"Ten thousand gold for the base structure—your residence, workshop, forge, vaults, and terrace. For the cultivation garden and the beast enclosure, an additional two thousand would be required. We estimate the full project to take two months, though we may finish sooner if weather and spirits permit. For a commission of this prestige, I will personally oversee the process."
Felix reached into his inner robe and placed a sealed contract onto the table.
"Four thousand now," he said. "The remaining amount—six thousand for the base—and two thousand for the additions, will be paid upon completion and inspection. No deviations. No substitutions."
Jehn grinned for the first time. "A man who pays like he crafts. Precise."
Vi rolled up her sleeves slightly. "You'll have every master under our banner eager to carve a piece of this."
Roddak bowed again, deeper this time. "This structure will not only be your sanctuary, Adept Felix, but a monument. When we raise the final stone and the threshold is carved, it will be recorded in our guild archives. The Eastwell Sanctum—first of its name."
Felix said nothing at first. He watched the sky, the wind, and the sway of tall grass along the edge of the land.
Finally, he spoke. "Build it well, and it will outlast us all."
As the delegation departed to gather materials, Rin stepped beside him once more. The land was quiet again, but not silent.
"It's really happening," she said.
Felix turned to her, his expression unreadable—but the flame in his eyes spoke enough.