By Coiling Currents
Third Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
You have much to discuss with the council in the hopes of closer ties between your realm and the City of Splendid Waves, but you are not so pressed for time that you cannot follow Lya's curiosity in seeking the smith who could so seamlessly merge living flesh and golemic enchantment, especially with the notion haveing caught Moonsong's imagination. Probably best to find him yourself rather than leaving the matter to the fey captain...
"I wonder if he can add arms, too, instead of just replacing them. Imagine having four arms like the Seeker. You would never be caught in a fight without a drawn weapon. Though he would probably struggle to add such things when accounting for wings I imagine..." rambled Moonsong.
Definitely best to find him yourself, you decide, though it is a struggle not to smile at the enthusiasm.
Thus the three of you make your way back to the Serene Shallows to listen for any rumors of the cecaelia smith the High Quartermaster had not heard spoken of in eleven star turns, the orbits of Palixna around its axis by which the maridar tell time.
More than fifty years, you translate in your head. Not good odds of finding the smith after so much time. He could have moved on, retired, or died. Even for the long-lived folk one is likely to find in the Inner Spheres, that is no small span.
You are rather proud to hear that the currents are alive with news of the Moonchaser's arrival and the beasts she has brought, though granted not as proud as Moonsong, who you have to all but physically restrain to keep her from heckling a merrow-blood bard with the shark-skin drum for 'telling the story wrong'.
Although it is hard to judge the time of day by the subtle pulses of silver light seen through the shimmering waters, you take lunch as you swim, enjoying steamed silverfish. Biting into it, you discover the name is not simply proof of a lack of originality in naming the dish, but that it contains actual silver, about a Star's worth in Westerosi coin. It accounts for all the Xorn milling nearby you suppose, glad Lya had decided to buy a skewer of steamed shrimp instead. You are not sure how well even her spell-forged bodies would be able to handle consuming metals.
"Found something," Moonsong calls out from among a gathering of sea-silk draped Xorn chatting cheerfully, their rumbling voices enough to startle a shoal of dog-sized bone-armored fish passing through, much to the annoyance of their locathah herder.
Before the irate herdsman can do more than glower and grumble at Moonsong's answering laugh, you change heading downwards, following the warm currents to the Glass Furnace where the greatest wealth of Vialesk is forged. There amid the clink of glass and the hiss of molten fumes spilling into the water, you find a passage through the limestone barely wide enough to fit two Tritons or Undine swimming side by side, and at its end the light of a small forge glowing deep red of bloodstone and old embers.
The smith Gerlos is a cecaelia, his face lined by work and age both, half his tentacles singed and blackened at the tip, though he shows no discomfort from it. Alas, he has no interest in moving to a far off realm away from kith and kin. He does, however, have an apprentice looking to broaden his horizons and, more to the point, deepen his pockets. Three thousand marks are enough to persuade him that Sorcerer's Deep is the best place for such travels.
"Do you remember when that was a fortune to us?" Lya asks pensively.
"And how much would you have paid for unseen arcane lore in those days?" you ask with a teasing smile.
"More than three thousand marks," she laughs a touch sheepishly.
Lost 3000 IM
Research Path Open: Enchanted Prosthesis
***
The bargain done, you head back towards the Council's Sphere, the great circular chamber that is the beating heart of Vialesk, where you had arranged to speak today. Constructed after the city threw off the dominion of the Brine Dragons, it is meant to symbolize the unity of the city in the face of the often hostile tides of the Endless Ocean, half submerged in water and half open to the air, it is a place where any voice in the City of Splendid Waves can be heard. As is often the case in matters of rule, ideals do not tell the full tale.
No sooner have you swam past the wards of the sphere, ushered in by courteous but weary maridar guards, that you can taste the water filled with exotic perfumes and alchemical musk whose effects stop just shy of outright enchantment. This is a place for the powerful and especially the wealthy to speak. Thankfully, most of that wealth came from trade and you have brought trade aplenty.
Still, the merchants of Vialesk are doubtless wary of summoning another draconic overlord to their proverbial gates.
How do you address the Council's Sphere, the sovereign legislative body of Vialesk?
[] Focus on the profits they can gain, play to those who have already made significant profits though trade with you
[] Concentrate on the military benefits a terminus will bring, the undersea forces you are marshaling
[] Write in
OOC: I thought about making the smith acquisition a vote, but given the small cost that looked like a foregone conclusion. Not yet edited. 
