Each guardsman assigned to the gates of Shukora belonged to a line of warrior families. Anjima's nobility were part of a strict hereditary caste. Those who were members of that esteemed aristocracy received power and opportunities from the day of their birth, and would usually go on to serve as well-paid public servants. Those whose families had risen to glory through battle were instead granted the right to carry weapons openly in the streets, and were commonly found in the positions of guardsmen and soldiers.
The eagle-eyed perceptions of those warriors were trained in such a way as to disallow even masterful assassins from entering Shukora. It was said that not even the effects of an invisibility spell or potion would allow one to pass undetected. With the city on lockdown, it truly seemed impregnable from the outside.
Beneath the legs of one such guardsman, a pitiful earthworm slinked around the dusty soil, tunnelling down to avoid the vicious flocks of ravens overhead. Like that, it slowly dipped under the city gates and emerged onto Shukora's main central road, squirming towards the shadow of a nearby alleyway where its form was enshrouded in darkness.
There was a strange sound, and a puff of smoke as if a fire had been lit, then out from the alleyway's threshold walked Barion, who patted down his tunic which had become stained with dirt and muck.
"Unorthodox indeed…" He spat, sending a globule of mud-coloured spit towards the ground, "I've been polymorphed a few times before, but never into a worm, of all things."
"The fact remains that no matter how demeaning, we have infiltrated the city successfully." Fusala's voice echoed, "It is a shame we were forced to leave the wagon behind."
"Hopefully nobody steals it." He frowned, "Let's get going."
Shukora's streets remained quite lively despite the commotion outside, though many of the local restaurants and stalls standing on the main roads had their doors closed to the public. The lack of trade moving in and out of the city was already beginning to show its effects.
"The Merchant's Guild wouldn't have allowed something like this to happen." Barion spoke to himself as he wandered down the city's main road, "What's the emperor thinking, demanding that nobody be allowed to enter? It doesn't make sense."
It wasn't long before Barion tracked down the city's adventurer's guild. Even through cultural differences, there was always a need for monster-slayers and handymen. The wide-open hall housed fewer adventurers than one might expect from a city so large, although the lack of alcohol passing through the gates probably had something to do with it.
As always, there was a notice board pinned with government-issued bounties and contracts. After scouring it for a few moments, Barion was disappointed to see that nothing resembling a Demon appeared to have been sighted recently.
"It'd be nice if the stone could just tell me exactly where the Demon is…" He sighed.
"Impossible. Scrying enchantments require a physical sample from the target in question to be accurate in their directions." Fusala explained, "As it stands, the Demon-Detecting Stone is capable of directing the user towards concentrations of Demonic activity, but incapable of tracking such creatures directly."
"This is a lot harder than it was when the Demon King was still around…"
"I suggest that we seek an audience with the emperor."
"How do you suppose we do that?"
"Forgive me if I am incorrect, but I believe that question is rhetorical." She answered without emotion, "Presenting the Sword of Light to anyone of middling repute would surely grant you an audience with whomever you please."
"Ah, that's…" Barion scratched the back of his head, "I don't really… you know, go around showing that to everyone nowadays. Just causes more trouble in the long run."
"You are being irrational. This is the most efficient solution."
"I won't argue with that, but for my sake, we'll have to think of something else."
"How troublesome." Fusala muttered, "Why not sneak into the emperor's palace?"
"What would that accomplish? Catching the kid asleep isn't going to make talking to him any easier."
"I believe we have exhausted all reliable options. It appears this is where our quest ends."
"Let's not lose hope. A good meal will get our heads going."
"I would like to try a spring roll. A merchant near the city square was selling them."
"Good to hear you've been focusing on the objective this whole time."
Without much else to consider, Barion thought a break would do the two of them some good. They'd been keeping themselves fed with water and cured meats for weeks, so a little variety wouldn't hurt, and if there was a place to hear rumours besides the adventurer's guild, it was the heart of the entire city.
Shukora was constructed on a hill, lending a divine presence to the royal palace, which was constructed near the rear of the city. The cobbled battlements and homes of Gria made the simpler, more elegant designs of Shukora seem exotic in comparison. In its grand square, crowds of afternoon admirers had come to view the seasonal cherry blossoms which sprung out alongside a central shrine. Steam rose freely from quaint, hand-pulled carts staffed by cooks sweating at their brows.
"Barion, the spring rolls are over there." Fusala directed impatiently, and then paused, "...Barion?"
In truth, her words, despite originating from within his own head, never reached Barion, for there was a sensation that had dominated each of his five senses. An overwhelming surge of power--not only physical, but also magical and primordial. Privy to the auras of especially powerful beings, whatever he felt was so great in intensity as to obscure its particular origin, and draw his attention away from the mundane goings-on of the world around him.
"This feeling…" He spoke, but could not hear his own voice, "When was the last time…"
Spring rolls.
Yes, it was from behind a bubbling pool of spring rolls that the aura emanated. Arrangements of folded pastries crisping up on a metallic rack just ahead, and behind the counter stood someone--someone whose appearance was obscured by their commendable work and whose hands continued to move in a learned fashion despite the world-ending strength that coursed through them. Without realising, Barion had already moved onto one of the cart's two wooden stools. When the haze of power had subsided, a familiar face looked at him from the other side, and blinked slowly.
"Hello there, Barion." The cook greeted, "It's 6 copper pieces for a spring roll."
"You're-" He began, before shaking his head, "...Hold on--6 copper pieces!?"
"Is there something wrong with that?"
"Of course there is! I'd pay that much for a full breakfast, not a roll with some pork in it!"
"It's vegetarian."
"That's even worse!"
"Are you going to order or not?" The man replied impatiently, "Oh, and if you weren't already aware, you've been cursed. Some kind of creature's bonded to your soul."
"No, that's just a friend of mine…" He waved off.
"Please order, Barion." The creature in question pushed, "The smell is making me hungry."
"More to the point…" Barion ignored her, "What are you doing here?"
The cook paused, "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"I don't mean to offend you, it's just… well, this wasn't what I imagined when you said you wanted a quieter life."
"What did you imagine? A farmer?"
"Sort of."
"I was one, for a little while. Now I run a cart."
"Hm." Barion exhaled through his nose, "Alright then."
"Barion, please cease conversing with the owner of this cart and purchase a spring roll."
"Try to show some respect to an important member of society, Fusala." He replied.
"I do not recommend speaking to me in close proximity to others." She warned, "In the best-case scenario, you will be seen as delusional."
"He already knows you're there."
"How? It is not possible to discern my form when hidden."
"Weren't you listening? He even called you a curse."
"That is…" She trailed off, "...not something a cook should be able to do. The identification of curse-bonds at a glance is an ability possessed only by exceptionally powerful sorcerers."
"Do you really want a vegetarian spring roll? 6 copper is asking for a lot."
"Who is this man, Barion?"
"To be honest with you…" He clasped his hands, "I don't even like spring rolls that much."
"Please do not ignore me. This seems like a dangerous situation."
Without another word, Barion stood up from the stool and began to wander off.
"Leaving?" The cook asked.
"We're on the hunt for something. No time to waste, really." He answered.
"Suppose it must be about the Demon? I can't imagine why you'd come for any other reason."
"...Of course you'd know about that." Barion turned around, "If this is-"
"It isn't." The man assured, "Actually, I'm interested in getting rid of it."
"Do you know where it is?"
He smirked, "You'd think I would. But unfortunately, no."
"Want to team up?"
"I would ask the same of you." He said, "-At least, when my shift is over. Come back tonight."
"It's a deal." Barion agreed, "We're leaving, Fusala."
"I feel as though I am missing crucial information." The shadow-girl replied, "But, at the same time, it appears that something incredible has happened?"
Fusala's mixed feelings were not exclusive to her. Indeed, all those who stood in that square were suddenly overcome with a strange reflex--as if some implacable authority had manifested in front of them and declared something utterly ridiculous. It was the same feeling that existed in the hearts of men and women following the establishment of the Holy Alliance. The feeling of a new age, and the strange possibilities that awaited them.
And yet, at a glance, things were as mundane as they always appeared to be.