Cal slowed his stride as the broad commercial avenue funneled him toward the first wall. He had been walking inward from the Hearthsong Inn for the better part of an hour, threading through Mirathra's outer sprawl. The city had felt alive out there, with carts clattering and merchants hollering. The first wall ended all of that. Cal thought it strange the city hadn't had any walls, but they'd just been hidden between the buildings further in. This one was barely over three-stories high.
Four legionaries in standard kit watched the traffic but made no moves to intervene. Three yards past the threshold he noticed a change. The crowd thinned and the building facades noticeably improved, while the majority of traffic continued towards the rune gate.
Another hour of travel brought him to a second wall, and this one was taller and thicker. Sixty feet of unbroken stonework rose in an intimidating barrier, its joints seamless. The legionaries posted at this gate were more numerous and wore heavier armor. Carried more weapons.
"Stay on the central avenue, people," one legionary drawled on loop. "Detours in the inner ring require writs of purpose."
Past the second wall, the streets emptied further. Estates bigger than the inn slumbered behind their own walls, half-glimpsed through wrought-iron gates. A woman in fine silver-trimmed robes drifted along the opposite side of the street, attended by two retainers walking a respectful step behind her. She didn't spare a glance for those headed to the city center.
Cal tested his surroundings delicately with his spiritual senses but found that his efforts were stymied at each estate's walls.
Some sort of runic defense, maybe? I wonder what would happen if I tried to open a [Portal] into one of these locations… would it even work? Sounds like something I should test, but it makes sense that there'd be standard defenses against that kind of thing, otherwise what's stopping someone from portaling right through a person in their sleep?
He continued on until he reached the third and final wall at the heart of the city, standing at least a dozen stories tall. It rose so large ahead of him that he quite frankly couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before, but the surrounding estates were so grand that it continued to be mostly hidden. The avenue he was on terminated at a colossal arched gate that stood open to the central plaza, and as he approached, he heard the roar of many thousands of voices.
Cal stopped at the threshold of the open gate, because for a moment he just… had to.
The plaza was enormous. A square expanse of white stone that had to be at least half a mile across, with market stalls and tents of all shapes and sizes littering the inner walls. People moved through it in the thousands, threading between the outer market and the inner staging and receiving areas that made up the broad central concourse, leading to the rune gate itself.
And the gate.
It stood at the plaza's center, half as wide as the plaza itself and thrice again as high, its arch rising to a height that defied sane construction. The black material ate all light in a doorway-shaped piece of not-here, and beyond it hung another sky entirely.
The landscape beyond the gate was covered in the bright light of the dual suns, while Mirathra was still only lit by Aurum. A mountain range climbed into the cold air with a view of the dwarven city carved into stone barely a mile away.
Holy mackerel, what a view!
A guard cut his sightseeing short.
"Move along, lad, you're blocking traffic."
Cal realized he was standing in the middle of the plaza's north gate like a gawking tourist and quickly made way, turning east towards the Legion Commander. Only a few longing glances were cast over his shoulder as he departed. After following the outer northern plaza wall for a few minutes he found the North Fort, sitting against the plaza wall like a barnacle of military function.
It was a different beast from the inner-ring estates. Where the Illuminet and high Gilded manors had been refined and ornamental, the North Fort was a thick-walled and broad-shouldered affair, obviously built for a purpose. The legionaries at its gates wore highly functional and well-used armor, polished but scuffed at the edges, and the man at the inspection point was alert and all business.
Cal walked up and greeted the inspector, presenting Hatch's letter. The man glanced at it, started to wave him off toward the petitioner's queue, and then caught the seal, doing a doubletake.
"This from an officer, lad?"
"Yup. Captain Hatch out of Deadfall Village."
"Aye, I've heard o' the captain. Wait here, then."
He took the letter and stepped to the queue line to consult with a sergeant. That man looked at the seal, then at Cal, and back at the seal. A boy of perhaps thirteen in cream-and-red runner's livery jogged toward the fort entrance and the sergeant abruptly whistled, catching the runner's attention. The boy was handed the letter and with a finger pointed at Cal.
"Take this gentleman to the Commander's wing and don't dawdle."
"Yes, sir."
The boy turned bright eyes to Cal.
"This way, sir. Try to keep up."
Cheeky little thing.
The runner moved at a pace that was just shy of an outright run, and Cal kept up without effort. The boy led him through two courtyards, up a flight of broad stone stairs, down a hall lined with banners bearing Legion numbers, through an arched colonnade open to a parade ground, and finally to a set of brass-bound doors at the end of a long corridor. The runner pushed one open and gestured Cal through. As the boy turned to leave, Cal stopped him.
"Um, I'm going to need that letter."
The boy froze and a flush crept up his neck. He fumbled with the document and offered it to Cal with a sheepish dip of his head. "My apologies, sir. Been a busy day!"
He offered a hasty bow and then bolted back down the corridor, while Cal chuckled and shook his head, stepping into the room beyond. The antechamber was large, high-ceilinged, and very busy. Three rows of desks ran along its length, each manned by a clerk or a uniformed officer. It was filled with the sounds of rustling paper and scratching quills, and in the far corner stood a curiosity he didn't immediately understand. Low brass banisters marked off a cleared section of the floor, perhaps eight feet by eight.
"What do you need?"
A civilian administrator at the nearest desk had spoken without lifting his head from a ledger. Cal approached.
"My name is Cal Valorn. I have a letter of introduction from Captain Hatch of Deadfall Village for the Commander."
The man looked up, squinting at Cal. He was in his fifties and had a narrow face. He gestured for the document, to which Cal obliged. The administrator glanced to the red wax seal before standing and crossing to a pair of taller doors at the back of the room. He knocked twice and stepped inside, only to reappear less than a minute later, empty-handed. Returning to his desk, he sat and picked up his quill.
"Sit there," he said, gesturing at a long bench against the opposite wall. "Be quiet and don't wander."
Cal settled in to wait. Maybe this was a test, or part of one? The Commander's office could see him through any number of means, and the antechamber gave them a frame within which to do it. Did he fidget? Did he stand and pace? Did he try to engage the clerks? Did he look bored, or anxious? Impatient?
He sat and folded his hands loosely in his lap, calmly observing his surroundings. The cordoned corner kept drawing his attention. There was nothing in it, but the brass banisters were polished and well-maintained, and the stone within the enclosure looked a touch different from the floor around it. Two officers at a desk ten yards away were leaning over a topographical map, their voices low, trading half-sentences they both clearly knew how to finish.
"...third report this fortnight from the southern logging camps. The foreman is saying our patrols aren't enough and that they'll have to start requesting Adventurer's Guild support if nothing is done."
"What's the issue this time?"
"A few razor boar herds have migrated into the area, and they're led by a couple of D-tier."
"Bah. Tell them to consolidate the camps and wait for the next rotation. We'll send down one of the eastern squads with a scout contingent to sniff them out."
At another desk, a clerk muttered to herself as she ran her abacus.
"...two days overdue. Two. Days. That's the third D-tier team this season, what is going on in that dungeon..."
Voices drifted from somewhere out of his line of sight, hushed and serious.
"...security perimeter for the coronation has to be tripled, not doubled. The governor's brother insists on—"
"His brother can insist all he wants. The Commander signs the order."
From the row of desks behind him, a supply officer spoke up.
"...third caravan this month that's been hit. The northern road's becoming a liability with all these bloody bandit attacks…"
Cal continued to wait as the office went about its business. How long, he wasn't entirely sure. Too long, really. The kind of wait that on Earth would have driven a bad Yelp review, but he let it be. Then he felt a pulse of Mana.
It happened inside the cordoned enclosure. A vertical seam of chromatic distortion split the space, edges slicked with the slightly oily iridescence he had come to associate with [Portal] magic. A man in a uniform of dark blue with silver piping stepped through. He carried a sealed packet under his left arm and walked the three steps to the edge of the enclosure as if he'd done it a thousand times.
A waiting officer Cal hadn't noticed before stepped up to the banister. The Courier handed the packet across, said a word Cal didn't catch, turned on his heel, and stepped back through, letting the portal collapse behind him.
The whole exchange had taken perhaps four seconds.
Ah, a designated arrival zone. Of course. If a clerk wandered into a random portal you'd have half a clerk in this room and the other half wherever the portal had come from. Stand-up workplace safety, Veraxus edition. OSHA would be proud.
He sat back against the bench to wait some more, satisfied that little mystery had been solved.
The tall doors at the back of the room opened a half hour later.
A human man stepped out and paused to speak quietly with the senior administrator who pointed Cal's way, causing the newcomer to look over. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair swept back from a handsome, open face. His officer's armor was beautifully fitted, the kind that managed to be both functional and quietly expensive. An aura ticked comfortably from the man at high D-tier, even half-suppressed.
The man smiled easily as he crossed the room.
"Cal Valorn?"
"Yes, sir."
"Lieutenant Rorie Edvin, adjunct. The Commander will see you now." He gestured toward the back doors. "Come with me."
Cal stood and followed Edvin into the room, where the man closed the door behind them. The Commander's office was built for a working soldier.
A large desk of lacquered wood dominated the center of the room, its surface neatly organized. The plain walls drew the eye to a vast map of the province covered in annotations and pinned with small markers. The Commander herself stood behind the desk, a silver-haired human woman of perhaps sixty. Cal kept his perception reined in, but his passive senses couldn't ignore her aura. The potency dwarfed any D-tier signature he'd ever encountered.
C-tier, at minimum, he realized. He was suddenly grateful he hadn't attempted even a delicate scan with [Feathered Edge].
She gestured at a chair in front of the desk and Cal sat. Lieutenant Edvin took up a position to her left, hands clasped behind his back. Hatch's letter lay open on the desk in front of her.
"Adjunct Valorn, I am Commander Jacira Cardea. Captain Hatch's reports are usually models of brevity. This one was... more detailed. I'll skip past the obligatory niceties and the mission notes." She tapped the letter with one finger. "He says here you're a Sovereign Aspirant."
Something twitched across her face before she blinked and regained control, focusing on him with sudden intensity.
"I've served in this province for three decades, Valorn, and I have never known a Sovereign Aspirant to come from any of the frontier towns. Between this city and the Mirathrian citizens in Kar'angor, my command oversees more than a million souls. The number of Sovereign Aspirants I have been made aware of in those thirty years could be counted on one hand. And none of them had reached E-tier at your age."
She leaned back a fraction of an inch.
"Quite frankly this whole situation strains credulity, and I've half a mind to throw you in chains. That being said, I've known Hatch for twenty years and there's no way this seal or letter was forged. What you've accomplished is impressive, assuming he didn't exaggerate. He is not a man to."
Forcing himself to relax, Cal replied, "Thank you, Commander. I can't speak to the content of the letter, but I assure you I'm a Sovereign Aspirant." He flashed her that portion of his status to prove it.
"Mm, indeed. Very well. Are you aware that Hatch was recommending you for a certain training program here in Mirathra?"
"I was aware of the recommendation, but not the details of the training program..."
"I see. You should know he's put you forward as a candidate for the Delver Corps. It is a great honor."
Cal was briefly taken aback by that, but it made sense. The Legion tended to put its best people into that unit and, well, he was pretty good at fighting if he said so himself.
"That… was very kind of the captain, ma'am."
"Do you understand why such training, if it were to be extended to you, would have to be conducted in Mirathra and not in Deadfall?"
He took a breath while he thought it over, but there was only one logical reason that he could think of.
"Deadfall only has one dungeon, Commander, and it's D-tier. I'd say that's a bit too dangerous for training the lower tiers. My guess… is that Mirathra has access to F and E-tier dungeons."
Cardea hinted at a smile.
"Very good. Mirathra exists as a training hub for exactly that reason."
She glanced at the letter again before continuing, making sure she had his attention.
"I'll consider you for the program, but there would need to be assessments. Tests of your foundations, of your judgment and Skills. Thorough testing. And the participation would require a full transfer from the Deadfall garrison to Mirathra. I do not invest Legion resources in candidates with one foot out the door."
He opened his mouth to respond when a soft knock came at the door. Cardea didn't bother looking at it.
"Come in."
A young aide slipped in and crossed the room in four quick steps, laying a sealed scroll on the corner of her desk.
"Commander, this came urgently from the eastern gate."
Cardea picked it up and broke the seal, reading it quickly.
"Double the patrol and authorize lethal force. I want an update in one hour."
"Yes, ma'am."
The aide vanished and Cardea set the scroll aside in a tray, marking something on a piece of paper before turning her attention back to him.
"Your answer, adjunct."
"Uh, yes. Thank you, Commander. I'm interested. Very interested. But I have obligations in Deadfall I need to settle before I can commit to a full transfer."
She lifted an eyebrow at his hesitation.
"Most young men in your position would abandon a frontier town without a second thought for an opportunity like this. What, exactly, is in Deadfall that demands your personal attention?"
"A friend of mine was injured and her spine broken beyond the ability of healers in the village to repair. Finding her a proper healer is the second reason I came to Mirathra. The first being to deliver Captain Hatch's letter, of course."
He paused as he considered what he might realistically be able to swing, and how many people he would have to reveal his ability to cast [Portal] to in the process.
"I also have business ventures in Deadfall that I need to see through before I can uproot. Considering I'll lose at least two months in travel both ways… I would need three to get my affairs in order. Four, most likely."
Cardea regarded him with a critical eye. Whatever calculation she was running behind those steady brown eyes ran to its conclusion in his favor.
"Acceptable. Then I will expect to see you in three to four months. You are dismiss—"
"Ah, Commander? If you've the time, there's one other matter I think it'd be prudent to discuss."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Remember what I said about testing the judgement of our Delver Corps candidates? This had better be good."
Cal told her about the bandit ambush and how he raided their camp, ultimately collecting a map that might indicate other locations. Producing it from his pack, he unfolded the map on her desk and tapped the location of the camp he'd cleared. Then he gave her the last detail.
"Their equipment also seemed to largely be mass-produced Legion-issue shortswords and armor. The maker's marks had been scraped off, but the design was unmistakable."
Commander Cardea stiffened, before slowly turning to Lieutenant Edvin.
"Banditry on the trade roads has been a persistent nuisance of late, Lieutenant, but armed and armored with our own supplies? I thought you were looking into this matter."
Edvin started as his face drained of color, before beginning to stammer a reply.
"I-I, ah, yes Commander. O-Of course I have been."
"Then Adjunct Valorn's intelligence here should be a great help to you in your duties. I expect progress, and fast, lieutenant. Is that understood?"
"Y-Yes, Commander."
Cardea glared unrelentingly at Edvin for a few more seconds before dismissing him.
"Take the map and get to work."
Edvin scrambled to step forward and pick up the map, hastily stowing it back in the wooden cylinder before beating a quick exit. He glanced at Cal as he passed by. The look was pure venom. A few seconds later the door clicked shut behind him. The commander held still in thought as she tapped her stylus against the desk for a few seconds. Then she looked at Cal, and for the first time since he'd entered the room, she seemed to drop a touch of formality.
"Ambition is a useful tool, until it makes a man sloppy."
She sighed, the creases at the corners of her eyes smoothing.
"I owe you thanks, adjunct. The Legion owes you thanks. Removing a bandit cell on the western road is a service, but identifying a leak inside my own command is a substantially larger one."
"Hey, I'm just glad I can help. No worries."
"The Legion is not so incapable as to ignore such a thing." She set the stylus down. "Tell me what you would like in return."
Cal didn't need long to make a decision.
"Your counsel, Commander, if I could. On how to find a proper healer for my friend."
"You'd spend the favor on your friend, instead of yourself?"
"Yup."
"Why?"
"Well… she might not see it this way, but it's my fault her spine was broken."
"I see. It's a noble thing to repay one's debts to a friend. Tell me, what is her race?"
"She's human… but why would that matter?"
"Had she been a dwarf this would be simple. You'd only need to get her through the gate to Kar'angor. Their pre-Dominion civic traditions guarantee full healing services to any dwarven citizen, free of charge."
Oh, come on! There goes half the wheelchair market!
Cardea was still speaking.
"For a human, it is more difficult. The healers in this city of the caliber you need are hard to get to without status and connection. A man with no means of introduction can have a chest of gold and not see an appointment for months."
She reached for a fresh sheet of parchment and her quill.
"But. As a reward for services rendered to the Legion, I will write you a letter of recommendation."
"Awesome! Thank you, Commander!"
While she wrote, Cal's attention drifted to the wall map that covered the entire city and surrounding countryside. He smiled wryly.
Apparently, access to the ranking Legion officer's office is the best source of intelligence in any city you visit. Assuming you have the memory to contain it, of course.
Cardea folded the letter, dripped wax onto the seam, and pressed her personal signet into it. She slid it across the desk.
"Head to the Healer's Guild on the south side. This will get you in the door. The rest… is up to you."
Don't blow yourselves up this weekend, my American friends!
Thanks for reading, everyone. :)
Cheers,
Jon