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It's time to explain what an Artificer is, or perhaps what an Artificer does, either one works. An Artificer is someone who deals with clockwork. Now, clockwork can have much, or nothing, to do with actual clocks. It's all about gears, springs, screws, rivets, metal, and that sort of thing. Frankly an Artificer is anyone who has anything to do with any technical device. Such as watches. Or, say, a small contraption that hides a spring loaded blade up your sleeve. Or a knife that springs out the front of a boot. Even someone who builds crossbows could be considered an Artificer. Though a more experienced Artificer, or someone of higher standing in a guild, may consider it beneath them. As well as clocks.

Clocks are considered a specialty. Someone experienced with clockwork would either be a clock maker, or an Artificer. But most do not dabble in the other. There is a big difference in technical terms that clock makers and Artificers have separate guilds in Has-Haven. But their clocks are famous. Incredulously so. Of course, being famous for not having the correct time outside of clock shops doesn't seem to bother anyone.

Ticks-o-Lot Avenue intersected with Cunning Street almost at the center of town, it was hard to be in the center of Has-Haven as that was where the palace was. It honestly looked like a palace. Fairly well kept and large. It was also higher then the rest of the city, except for The University, but that was taller than most mountains.

It had taken Jace several hours to find Cunning Street. He did not rightly get lost, per-say. He had merely been...getting the lay of the city. And the thing he had found out was that it was very, very large. But he had also found, to great interest of his, the train. There was only one train in Has-Haven and it circled the city in only a few hours. The whistle had sent a shiver down his spine as he saw it trudge past several blocks away. There were trains in Auser, but he still wanted to take a closer look at that one.

He stood on the corner of Ticks-o-Lot and Cunning, staring at the sign. Ticks-o-Lot Avenue. He wasn't sure how exactly he felt about that. It was the street of clock makers. To him, there shouldn't be any difference between a clock maker and an Artificer. He shook his head, he needed an Artificer, not a clock maker. His watch was not your typical watch. There where quite a number of people staring at him, he noted. Seemed word had gotten around already and people were giving him a wide berth.

It took him a few minutes to find an Artificer shop that grasped his interested. Twisted Springs. The name was interesting. It should be Wound Springs, not Twisted. The owner must have been going for a more of an interesting sounding name, and he had to admit, it did sound more interesting. The issue was, it was on the other side of the street.

Jace had found out quickly that crossing a street in the center of Has-Haven was risking your life. With so many carts and people going about their daily life it was hard to get anywhere. He'd found, from observation, that the best thing was to simply wait for an accident, traffic would stop, and then simply cross. Thankfully he did not have to wait long.

A cart full of chickens, heading south, met another cart of something in a large vat. It was only a graze, but that's all it took. Both drivers leaped off the carts and charged at one another, shouting. Jace paid no attention to the argument, however, a crowd quickly formed and knotted around the men, to the point Jace could not see either man. But the traffic had stopped. Unfortunately, it was between him and his destination.

Mr. Ozymandias was not the type of man to walk around a crowd. He moved to the back of the group and cleared his throat, a few people who had been trying to squeeze their way in to see the show, glanced back and quickly shuffled to the side. The people in front of them, glanced back to see why the pressure had stopped, making sure there was no better show happening behind them. They parted as well, and so it flowed as Jace walked through the parting crowed, which closed up behind him with quite a lot of muttering. Eventually, the only two people in front of him were the two arguing. Of course at this point they weren't arguing, they were wrestling.

Jace cleared his throat. The two men ignored him. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then set down his briefcase. He felt the sudden shift of people, as they all took a step back. Bending over slightly, he placed a hand on each mans shoulder. One of the men was an ox, the other a sheep. It was impossible to tell which cart belonged to which person, but that didn't matter. "Gentlemen," Jace said calmly, both of them turned their gaze slowly to him. "I do believe, you are holding people up." The sheep gulped and backed away quickly.

But the ox got to his feet. He was quite taller than Jace. "And who in the hell do you think you are?!" the ox demanded, towering over Jace.

"Mr. Ozymandias," Jace said coldly, picking his briefcase up. "And now you are quite in my way."

The ox, unfortunately, was from outside the city from an outlaying farm and was not quite up with current events. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"From what I have come to find, it is about the inevitable fall of leaders, and of empires." The ox's brow wrinkled and Jace sighed. "King of kings?" He prompted, looking up at the ox. His blank face told Jace quite a lot. "No, I suppose not. It's quite an old thing."

The ox stared at him, still blank faced, and then, for the first time, noticed that the group around them seemed to have moved quite further away and were staring at Jace. "Uhh..." He looked at Jace, suddenly he felt striking him was a very bad idea.

"Now..." Jace said and placed a hand on the ox's shoulder, or at least tried to. Inside he cursed his height. "If you would be so kind as to move out of the way, things wont have to go badly."

There was silence for several seconds as the ox stared at him. Jace stared back, a faint smile on his face. Could he take out the ox? Probably. He didn't seem much of a threat, someone who, while quite strong, had no ideas of fighting. "Sorry..." the ox mumbled as he stepped away from Jace.

Jace gave him a bit more of smile. "No harm done." He walked past and the crowd ahead parted quite quickly. In the door of Twisted Springs stood a hunched figure, a bespectacled badger. Jace looked directly at him and he quickly retreated back inside. The crowd was starting to disperse and he looked back across the street as he stepped the curb. The hairs rose on the back of his neck, as on the other side, stood Burce. Honestly it was hard to miss him. He was staring straight at Jace. He nodded to him and turned back around. Pretend you knew he was there the entire time. Don't let him think he snuck up on you. He walked quickly to the door and opened it.

The badger stood behind the desk, as if using it like some sort of shield. "G-good afternoon." he said, staring wide eyed at Jace.

"Is it afternoon already?" Jace said, looking out the door at Burce, who was standing still, and purposefully closed the door.

"Uhm...yes?" he said and adjusted his glasses. His eyes never left Jace, who purposefully walked around the room, looking at the little things, the little things that looked like toys, most probably were. Artificers make wonderful toys, and this one seemed fairly good at it.

"My how does the time fly." Jace stopped in front of the desk and the badger tried to make himself look even smaller than he was. "I have a job for you." He reached in and pulled out the watch. It took him a moment to unclasp the other side of the chain from his vest and set it on the table.

The badger finally seemed to find some sort of courage. "A watch? You'll be wanting a watch maker, sir."

"This is no ordinary watch." He insisted, pushing it towards the badger.

He picked it up, and adjusted his glasses. It came open easily. "Well...uhm...you see...I'm not actually all that good at clocks...clocks are difficult, and require a certain set of skills..." He swallowed under the gaze that Jace gave him. "I...I can recommend some very good clock makers I know..."

"No. It must be an Artificer." He looked at the badger and decided not to press him. "Fine." The badger relaxed so much he nearly collapsed. Now that Jace came to look at him closely, he was quite old. It looked to Jace he wouldn't be able to make anything in a few years, his hands would be too unsteady. "I will require the use of your facilities." Jace lifted and placed the briefcase in front of him on the desk, with a purposeful force.

The noise jolted the badger back up. "Uh, uh...facilities?"

"Fifty dollars," Jace said and began counting out the coins, placing it down on the table. "Plus expense of any and all materials I use. For eight hours."

"You...uh..." He glanced behind him at the door. "You want to use my laboratory?"

"Quite." He snapped the lid down, after pulling a piece of paper out. "Standard transaction of use of facilities." There was a pen sitting on the table and he picked it up and made up a simple contract. He signed his name as MR Ozymandias and pushed the paper, and pen, to the badger. "All it needs is your signature."

The badger hesitated and looked at the paper. He adjusted his glasses and read what had been written, though his eyes kept going back to the pile of coins on his desk. He took a deep breath and signed. "Alright."

Jace gave him a smile, as he picked up his briefcase and walked back behind the desk. "Thank you-" He glanced at the paper. The badgers signature read Edward Haberdash. "Mr. Haberdash." Edward managed to get around him and open the door for him. He was surprisingly spry for an old badger.

Jace walked inside and took a deep breath. This was a familiar place. The smell of oil and metal. The squeak of gears. The hiss of steam. And the mess. Oh how he had missed the mess of a laboratory. "Sorry for the mess..." Edward said quickly and waved his hands frantically as Jace picked something up off the table. It was a long and fairly thin metal rectangle. "Be careful with that!"

With a slight flick of his hand, out of one side of the rectangle came a surprisingly long knife. He was about to comment on how crude the device was. It was the same thing that Skagger had had on his wrist. But something caused him to pause. It wasn't crude, just simple. Very simple. Ingeniously so. "How much do you sell these for?" he said as he looked at Edward.

"Ah...that's not for sale? No one sells those...they're...uhm...illegal?" Edward looked very panicked, looking from Jace, to the unfinished device and back again.

He paused a moment. "Well then, how much is it worth?"

"A-about four Kik's..." he managed, staring at Jace now.

"Really..." He pulled the little latch, which allowed the blade to slip back into the device. "That's quite cheap...only one's I've ever seen are worth at least..." He paused as he did a quick mental calculation, using the beer to figure out price exchange. "Five dollars."

"Ah." Edward nodded slightly, taking a deep breath. "You must have been looking at the fancy ones from Auser...those things may be well designed, but that's too much for your average person. Maybe a high priced assassin would get one, but that'd be just for show."

Jace nodded. That made sense. A lot of sense. "Now," he said, looking at the badger. "If you'll please leave me to my work."

~

Mr. Ozymandias. Where had she heard that name before? In some kind of ancient book, but surely it could not have been talking of him. He certainly seemed the type of man that word would get around about, but he just...appeared...and he knew Mr. Tompkin...probably had even been trained by him. That would be a man not to be trifled with. From what she had heard of him and the conversation that he had had with Dr. Minsra, he was scary. But why would he want a fresh blood? Dr. Minsra had mentioned that someone contracted would do it a certain way, but she was not sure what exactly he had meant by that, and- "Are you going to hang around all day, Stella?" Dr. Minsra's voice so close to her caused her to straighten and lose grip. She hit the bottom of the fireplace and scrambled out quickly.

"T-terribly sorry Dr. Minsra sir-" she began, but he held up a hand, silencing her.

"How did you get into there? The grating above is bared with type seven steel..." Dr. Minsra walked calmly around his desk, sitting back down.

"I came in when you were out," she explained, taking deep breaths. "You left the door open. The fireplace seemed the best place to hide..."

"You did quite well... I was unaware of your presence until Mr. Ozymandias had left..." He watched her, staring her down. He knew why she had done it, proving you can sneak up on a higher level assassin makes one feel better...but the snow white fruitbat was not the sort to seek such satisfaction. "I will not even ask who put you up to it..." He pulled papers out from his desk.

Stella sagged slightly, glad to have that gaze off of her. "Thank you, sir..." she mumbled, glancing around the room. She was covered in soot, but she didn't care at the moment, she had actually received actual praise from Dr. Minsra.

"In fact...such an accomplishment deserves rewarding..." He scribbled on the piece of paper, not looking up at her. "How did last nights test go?"

~

Last night was probably the most horrifying night Stella had ever had. It wasn't the being upside down part that was terrifying, that's how she preferred to rest. It was the being bound, with a bag over her head, dangling over what felt like a lot of empty space that was terrifying. Final Exam. It was the hardest challenge an assassin will ever face. Failure almost always meant death. Almost.

Where was she? It smelled horrible but she couldn't tell if that was just the sack over her head. She and all the other students in her class had taken The Draft. It put one out for one hour, and each student was then taken by a teacher and put into a test. She wouldn't know who she had gotten until she escaped. 'An assassin must be able to get in and out of any situation.' That was one of the required tests and it seemed that would be her first.

The knots were around her wrist, those were the easiest to undo. But she went slow and it proved in her favor. The knot around her wrist was what held her up and she barely managed to grab it and swing right side up. She immediately tore the bag from her head and wished that it had been the bag that had stank. She was in the sewers. Or what was supposed to be the sewers. It was more accurately known as the old city. The city sank and was just built up. Then she looked down, bellow her, just a few feet away, was a rather large badger. "Very good," he said, and made a check on his clipboard. His voice was harsh, and raspy. Fincirsa. "You'll find your equipment at the end of that tunnel," he pointed with his pen, before standing up. "You have until sunrise to complete your assigned task."

She stared as he walked down a side hallway and turned a corner out of sight. Then her eyes scanned the ground and then the ceiling. Fincirsa was one of her least favorite teachers. He was a thief turned assassin, and his specialty was traps and gadgets. The point would be to not give away ones position. She lowered herself and recoiled quickly as she realized that what she thought was ground, was in fact goop. Fincirsa had probably been on the only solid piece.

It was hard to tell goop from floor as everything shined slightly from some light source Stella could not locate. She was about to swing towards what she thought was a ledge, but decided against it immediately as she felt the rope twitch. She looked at the rope and followed it. Across the room, she could make out some sort of contraption with a few bags on it.

Her mind worked quickly, it was probably some weight sensitive trap, to either drop the rope into the sludge, or trigger something worse. But was it more weight, or less weight that would trigger it? She climbed slowly, watching the rope to make sure that it did not twitch. Once at the top, she pulled the rope up behind her. She tied the end in a knot around the pullywheel, making sure that it would not move either way. Then she descended and worked on swinging to the ledge.

~

"I passed," she said, trying to make out what he was writing, but it was gibberish to her, some sort of code she guessed.

"Obviously...I meant, how do you think you did?" His eyes hit her for a moment, and she tensed.

"I...believe I could have done better in certain points..."

"But Fincirsa says that your stealth was top notch. There were moments when he said he lost track of you..." She suddenly felt really good about the test, even though she had a few slip ups. Dr. Fincirsa had chosen the sewers to remove the use of her wings, making her walk or run. Or climb. "But he also noted several mistakes...though you did pass, the target may have been alerted on several occasions..." Her heart sank once again. "But it would seem you would be perfect."

She blinked, her mind wandering a moment. "Sir?"

"Mr. Ozymandias has asked for a fresh blood. He wants someone who does things..." There was a slight hesitation as he glanced at her large chest, "In an unorthodox manner...I believe you fit the bill perfectly. Now, go and collect your gear. You'll find Mr. Ozymandias somewhere on Cunning Street. You may deliver the news to him personally." He pulled a piece of paper out of his desk and set it on the table.

Instinctively she moved foreword and stared at it. "Is this..."

Again his eyes hit her. "Your contract. Do not disappoint us. Failing a contract, means you do not get paid."

She picked the paper up slowly, it already had her name on it. When had he done this? She hadn't seen him write this... "Yes, Dr. Minsra." She took a deep breath, folding the paper up, and slipping it down the front of her leather vest between her breasts. She immediately turned and walked, as calmly as she could to the door, and exited the room. Then she broke out into a sprint, running as fast as she could. She had actually gotten a contract! The day after the test, she already had a contract! Few assassin's are contracted their first day. Dr. Minsra being one of them. She guessed Mr. Tompkin was probably one as well, with his skills.

She almost ran into an orange tabby. She hesitated a moment. "Collins you ass!" She hit him, hard enough to cause him to stagger back. "You knew Dr. Minsra had a meeting, and you-"

Collins put up his hands, grinning. "Hey hey, you took the bet. I didn't know about the meeting til he sent me to fetch Mr. Ozymandias."

Her anger was high and she reached into her bust, Collins flinched, but was puzzled at the withdrawal of a piece of paper. "Well, thanks to your asshattery, I got a contract."

His eyes widened. "You stole a contract!?" he exclaimed, backing up all the way against the wall.

"No you twit," she said as she unfolded it and brandished it at him as though it would give him a mortal paper cut if he so much as thought of touching it. "An actual contract. I'm to be Mr. Ozymandias' personal assassin."

His mouth gaped and opened and closed as he read the paper. "No way..."

"Yes way," she smirked and returned the contract back to it's hiding spot. "I'm off to collect my gear and then meet him. Now, pay up." She held out her hand. "Thirty dollars."

Suddenly he got defensive, taking a step away. "No way. You got caught."

"Yeah but only cus of Mr. Ozymandias. Dr. Minsra said it himself, he didn't know I was there till he left. Which is because I moved down lower to hear their conversation."

"You still got caught," he said, looking like a mouse in a corner. "So you lost. Best I can do is you don't have to pay me thirty. We'll call it even."

"Even my ass, pay up Collins." To his surprise, she leaped in front of the window before he could get to it. A palm to the throat is enough to put someone down when the force is mixed with a lunge forward. Best part is one cannot hear their complaints as you fish out their wallet. "You jerk. You only have five?" She stared at him and tossed the wallet out the window. "Oh well. Fetch. I have a contract to fulfill."