Right then, feasting sounded like a good idea. As he walked among the stalls, Devin could smell the scents of food cooking in a dozen spots, open-air stalls set with fires to allow them to prepare meat or stew for those who passed, but Devin was fairly sure he couldnt afford it right now. There were brightly colored cloths dyed by the weavers and farmers who had set up in the hope of selling their stock.

Devin was still too stunned to take it all in, though he looked around in the vain hope that someone there might need help with their work. Occasionally, there were fairs where the merchants sought out the strong and the willing for whatever tasks they had. Now, one of those seemed like the best chance Devin had of ever finding work again.

The full impact of losing his place in the House of Weapons started to hit home then. Devin had been on the way to being a master smith; everyone knew he understood metal and the way it worked as well as anyone there. And in the House of Weapons, he could have kept training with weapons, could have kept working to be the warrior he wanted to be.

Now he had nothing. He had no job, and probably no chance of getting another. When people learned that he had been dismissed from the House of Weapons, they would never give him another position, except in the lowliest of jobs.

His stomach was rumbling as he passed an inn, but he stopped himself from going in. He didnt have the coin to spare, and he doubted his parents would be generous with more. Already, his father occasionally dropped hints that it was time he was finding a home of his own.

Devin kept walking, past the inn, on into the city. He crossed another of the bridges, the water rushing by beneath, guards looking him over as if trying to decide if he was someone they should stop. This area had larger, wealthier-looking homes that were mostly half-timbered, the shops having actual glass in their windows, the cobbles of the streets in a better state of repair.

Devins path took him past the entwined towers of the House of Knowledge, and briefly he stopped, staring at the doors there, which stood at the top of a flight of steps, behind wrought iron gates that had clearly been worked on by a multitude of different smiths. An inscription above stated Let those who seek understanding enter in peace.

Devin felt the part of this that hed been avoiding starting to rise up in him. The loss of his job, and the brief fight with a prince had been bad enough, but one part of it seemed to defy understanding. There had been a moment where things had seemed to stretch out, where he had made Prince Vars drop his weapon without even touching him.

Hed done magic.