With the end of the winter snow came the arrival of new faces to the Crown Isle. Some from other Imperial lands. Others from far away. Others from very far away. And so our story begins.
The ship from the far eastern desert shores arrived, carrying with it the usual spice traders and individuals looking to score it big. But of all of them, one individual may have caught someone's eye. Or maybe not; this city is the largest in Aloria after all. And what is one foreigner in a sea of millions?
Yet this individual made his way down the street. He looked the same as any one of his kind, wearing foreign outfits and wearing odd things on his. Things that whirred, others that ticked. Even something that moved around. A peculiar sight, but not foreign to many. The Qadir were like that. Odd clockwork makers and something about dead bodies or what have you. Who knows?
Anyways, the Qadir with his bundle and doohickeys made his was due east, along the old Ithanian quarter. Many of the residents scoffing at the foreign demeanor about him, and his tacky things he carried along. But along he went, reaching the gates of the harbor. And in (or out) he went.
Most people in the area paid him no heed as the Qadir walked down the road. Eventually he made it to the bank, where the teller simply exchanged some odd trinkets for Regals. Odd that he did not carry on him. Regardless, he walked around the commerce district, though the numerous merchants shouting at the tip of his lungs.
That was, until he came across a disheveled looking cart, one that had seen better days. The owner of it was surprised that the Qadir wanted to purchase the cart, seeing this as a way to cut off lost causes. The deal was made in plain view of the public, and the Qadir went right to work.
In retrospect, the previous cart owner regretted the sale, but Regalian finances were always filed with bureaucratic clauses, so the deal was done. The Qadir meanwhile enjoyed tinkering with the cart, until finally he had repaired the base of it. Taking some sewn together fabrics, he recovered the cart and rolled out the sign for the public to see:
Al-Alus Clockwork Wares
And with that, he got straight to work. Selling minor doodads for the children and repairing some Qadir clocks for others. He charged what he thought was necessary, and the customers accepted them. Thus was the new life Rasim made for himself. The perfect way to get situated. Nothing grandiose, but also not in poverty. Though I'm sure some would argue about living in a wagon...
