The ride to town felt even worse than it had the last time. The simple wooden carriage seemed flimsy in comparison to the elaborate one she had previously taken, shaking noticably every time they hit something as meager as even a pebble on the road.
The hangover certainly didn't make things any easier. During the entire ride Amelia silently prayed that she would not get sick. Especially not when Dario was seated right across from her.
She was confused as to where they were going. The area that she saw outside the window was neither the central square nor the high-end shopping district. The tall buildings in red brick that framed the sidewalks looked to be residental houses.
Although she occationally spotted small shops and scattered streetvendors it didn't look like a place that she could imagine Dario to ever have any buisness in.
When she met his eyes he looked to be amused by her confusion. He didn't explain anything, instead he proceeded to smalltalk as if he didn't notice her probing stare. Amelia wasn't sure whether it was to tease her or to provide a distraction from the nausea. She didn't mind either way since it seemed to actually help.
When the carriage eventually came to a halt he swiflty exited and offered Amelia his hand as support from beneath. Just like Paul had previously, except for the hand that Dario wrapped around her waist as she clumsingly stepped onto the slippery ground.
They had stopped on a small square in the heart of four intersecting streets. Although the buildings looked to be in good conditions the cobblestone underneath her feet was worn and partially hidden under a bed of dirty snow that produced crunching sounds whenever she took a step. The shoes she was wearing seemed to not be made for winter and she held onto Darios arm to keep herself from slipping as they started walking.
She didn't focus on where they were headed but simply followed his lead, taking in the enviroment around her. The area was livelier than she had expected by their ride here. Despite the biting cold there were still a handfull of people out and about, all of them dressed similarly to herself and Dario.
She absentmindedly followed a young boy with her eyes, probably no more than five years of age. His eyes shone happily as he walked between his mother and father, cheeks bright red from the cold and his nose runny. He had the mother's haircolor and complexion and the father's wide, gap toothed grin.
Amelia turned her eyes away, unable to understand the unpleasant feeling that briefly arose.
Following the main street they eventually cut off into an ally, completely empty except for a singe green door. Above it hanged a sign with a poorly illustrated clock and the word Horology written in a cursive font.
"Is this it" Amelia asked and Dario hummed.
"Yep, this is it."
A bell sounded from above them when he opened the door. The shop was cramped and dark and the scent of dust lingered in the air. From the shelves along the walls came the rythmic sound of ticking from countless out of sync clocks.
A counter peeked out from behind a display in the far back. Behind it was a neetly groomed man with greying hair and his eyes obscured by the gleam of his glasses. He was working on a wristwatch, seemingly not having noticed their precence.
When they reached the counter the man greeted them without tearing his eyes from the small cogs for even a moment.
"Welcome. What can I do for you?"
Dario silently pulled a small card from his pocket and placed it on the counter right beneath the man's line of vision. It looked similar to the sign outside, made of yellowed paper with the image of the illustrated clock in black ink. Underneath was something that looked like text, though the letters were unintelligible
"I have a package to retrieve. The name's Keaton Seymore" Dario then said curtly.
This seemed to have caught the man's attention as he finally put down the watch and met their eyes, his face revealing recognition.
"My sincerest apologies mister Seymore. Please, this way."
He left his project on the counter and turned his back to them, pulling open a drab red curtain that covered the entire back wall of the shop. What Amelia had thought to be decoration was in actuality hiding a small doorway behind it, leading to what looked to be a storagespace.
The horologist effortlessly made his way through the tight space that was packed from floor to ceiling with various boxes and fully stocked shelves. Dario beckoned Amelia to follow after the man by a small push with his hand on her shoulderblade, and the moment she stepped onto the creaking wooden floor he closed the curtain behind them.
She was surpised to see that it was in fact not a mere storageroom but rather something like a passageway leading to a partially hidden door in the back. The horologist had already unlocked it by the time Amelia approached, her skirt gathered in her hands to keep it from getting stuck on the sharp edges of the boxes.
When she saw where the door led she hesitated to enter. It was a cramp and dark stairway only illuminated by the light that was let in through the open door. The horologist seemed to have no intention of entering himself, simply holding the door open and waiting for them to proceed.
The situation seemed sketchy no matter how she looked at it. She was however calmed by Darios confident demeanour. It was clear by just a look that he had already been here countless times before.
He had surely noticed her apprehension because he continued on ahead of her, giving the man a polite nod when he passed. When she followed the door shut behind her and she heard the lock click.
Her chest tightened at the sound, reminded of the darkness and suffocating silence in the locked broomcloset from when she was younger. But it was only for a moment. Dario had already opened the door at the top of the stairs, filling the space with daylight.
The top floor looked nothing like the shop downstairs. The room that they entered into was large, modern and decorated with refined furnishing. It looked to be a sittingroom, with a large rug in the center surrounded by sofas and multible armchairs.
It was clear to Amelia that this wasn't someone's home but rather something like a buisness. She could hear the sounds from multiple people from an antechamber that continued behind the furthest right wall of the room. What kind of buisness they found themselves in though she wasn't sure.
At the sound of the door that closed behind them a woman soon emerged. Her appearance was simple and neat. Dressed in a slim, neutral toned dress without any embelishments and with her hair pulled firmly back in a low bun it looked like she had intentionally styled herself in a manner as to appear as anonymous as possible.
"Mister Seymore, welcome" she greeted Dario with a flat tone. "We were not expecting you. The manager will see to you shortly."
She then turned her eyes to Amelia.
"I see you brought a guest. Your... cousin I presume?"
"That's correct" Dario answered.
It was obvious by the woman's scrutinizing gaze that she knew who Amelia really was.
"Perhaps she would be most comfortable waiting in the sittingroom? Given the... sensitive matter which you are to discuss?"
Her tone was filled with distrust.
Amelia cut Dario off right as he was about to object.
"Yes, of course. I am rather thirsty, would it be audacious of me to request a cup of tea while I wait?"