Wilbur looked at the stone enthralled. It was a simple partially oval stone, uneven and with a good base. It was placed on a flat platform upon which the artist worked.

The artist placed her hand on the flat platform, also made of stone. The oval stone vibrated with intensity. The artist closed her eyes and the topography of the stone started changing, he saw features started emerging. The top of the stone shifted, slowly he saw hair emerge, then eyes, nose, lips and a serene expression formed on it. Wilbur was so focussed on the face that he missed the robes that had already been projected on the Oval stone. Wilbur regretted that, as he marked the detailed lines that formed the perfect posture. There stood the God of Peace and War, tranquil and turmoil, Head of Gods, Gladin.

Wilbur would have complemented the art weaver on how less time she took to make the statue, was he not enraptured by the alchemy artist's next work. After all it took the art weaver less than three seconds. Three seconds to make a perfect precise statue. Most alchemists struggled to bend elements let alone carve precise projections. The warriors were usually only good with bulk production. The more elements one could conjure in lesser time, the stronger alchemist he would be declared.

This was completely different for it spoke of precision, quality, emotion and beauty. This was art.

Another deity emerged with the next three seconds. The expression serene with the hint of a loving smile, the Goddess of love, beauty, fertility, creation, productivity, the soul of artists and a benevolent giver to all, Feiralin.

Then the artist placed a shorter stone between God Gladin and Goddess Feiralin. After four seconds the Son of Gladin and Feiralin was engraved upon the stone, a baby walking on four, innocent smile on his faces. Protector of those with lands and guide to those lost, God of strength, Healer of worlds, Dragrin.

The art weaver had beads of sweat on her forehead. A maid offered her a handkerchief as she wiped her brow and smiled at the little audience in front of her. Only when they clapped did Wilbur recall their presence.

He also saw the two guards clapping behind her. The guards did not surprise him; after all she was a noble. They were supposed to be on guard but who could blame them, such was the art.

"I can't manage to conjure a spear here. No matter how many times I see this, I am astonished, probably more every time," Sir Florent made his presence known. He was dressed as a scholar. Scholars wore hoods that would cover much of their face, which was something a man of repute such as Sir Florent could find of much use. Wilbur himself was dressed as a commoner. The White Capes were supposed to lay low after all.

"I find no words to describe this Sir Florent," said Wilbur. "I am lost and am glad to be."

They started moving towards another section of the art gallery as the auction for the sculpted composition started.

"That was quite a show you put up this morning," said Sir Florent.

"It was much required," replied Wilbur.

"I am certain of the fact. Do you think they will be in check when the time comes?" Inquired Sir Florent.

Wilbur shrugged, "It would take the blessing of Gladin to know some such."

Sir Florent smiled, "We must pray for the best. Say, do you know about this saviour they talk about?"

"Priest Bill tells me the description matches a traveller that came to visit Andlenore just a day after the New Dawn."

"New Dawn as in appearance of The White God?"

"Yes, the Priests now choose to call it that, a new dawn. Our priests have always been dramatic people. I sometimes wonder if they chose to be priests after they were rejected entry in the theatres"

Sir Florent gave a low laugh.

"So you met this fellow?" he further asked.

Wilbur nodded his head, "I was passed out. It was more than two weeks before I recovered enough to venture out of the doctor's clinic and this fellow was gone by then."

"Did you know that Priest Bill suspected he was the messenger of The White God?"

"If he was, I have missed a great opportunity to meet him. But I choose to be content, I met the God himself after all," he chuckled.

Wilbur looked around the art gallery. There were more female art weavers than male, as the male of the species tend to divert their attention and skills to warfare. Small crowds of people had gathered near the art weavers to appreciate their art. Behind each of the artists had a showcase displaying some of their work. As apparent from the diversity, Wilbur knew each artist had her own style and flavour. Some were so unique that Wilbur could have spent the rest of the day admiring that. Unfortunately Artinopolis was no longer the city it once was. The present state was a mere husk of what the city originally was, thanks to the lack of patrons and patronage alike.

Wilbur was pulled out of his thoughts by Sir Florent's voice, "Well Wilbur, I have a suggestion for you."

"Yes Sir, by all means feel free," said Wilbur, with a light tone.

"There is another knight who was exiled. Perhaps you must have heard his name, Sir Triston?"

Wilbur's eyes widened, "Sir Triston Griffiron?"

Sir Florent nodded, "He was exiled mainly because of foul politics. If we can convince him to join our forces..." Sir Florent shrugged.

"I see what you mean. Sir Triston was once renowned as the strongest man in the Empire, the only one to win against Glinrin in single combat. His reputation is unparalleled. To have him by our side would be a great morale boost for all, he is a force to be reckoned with," said Wilbur as his attention was again diverted by the alchemy art works around.

"I expected him to be with other exiles but he had never come here. Sources told me he went to the forest of Greenseed, just past this city and settled there," Sir Florent said.

Wilbur inquired, "So why didn't you ask him to join you before? It would certainly have been a great boost for your men in the forest."

"It was the forest of Greenseed that deterred us. The journey would consume resources we already lacked and the purpose then wasn't strong enough. If Sir Triston did want to join the exiles, he would never have ventured into another forest. He chose a place of isolation. But now we have both motive and means," said Sir Florent.

"So we must commence as soon as possible, what suggest you?" asked Wilbur, his gaze still on the various show cases that spoke of grandeur and beauty.

"The forest is named 'Greenseed' for a reason; it is the habitat of greenlits," said Sir Florent adjusting his hood.

"I have never had an encounter with a greenlit before," replied Wilbur truthfully, his tone encouraging Sir Florent to shed more light on the matter.

"They are mysterious creatures, but not as much of a threat, given you have the resources. We must not forget, we have more than three hundred men, while Sir Triton made the journey alone. I myself have never encountered them, I will try to collect more information about these creatures," said Sir Florent.

Wilbur nodded his approval, "Sir Triston is still unofficially considered the strongest alchemist in the whole of Empire after all. I implore, complete your research as quickly as possible, the journey in the forest will better maintain our element of stealth."

Sir Florent nodded and adjusted his hood again to denote approval. They walked around the art gallery silently, stopping here and there to admire the art works of various alchemy artists.