The city of Jordan unfolded before them as they stepped through its towering gates, a vibrant blend of grandeur and grit. Its immense stone walls, polished smooth from centuries of weathering, loomed high above, bearing the marks of countless repairs and reinforcements. The gates themselves were an imposing sight, crafted from dark iron, reinforced with intricate carvings of beasts and sigils that glinted faintly in the moonlight.
Inside, the streets buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the stillness of the cave and the wilderness they had just left behind. Cobblestones paved the ground, their surfaces uneven and worn from years of relentless foot traffic and the grinding wheels of merchant carts. Narrow alleys branched off the main roads like veins, twisting into the maze-like depths of the city where secrets and shadows thrived.
The buildings near the entrance were modest, constructed from sturdy timber and stone. Their facades bore signs of age—cracks running along the walls, shutters creaking with the evening breeze, and faded paint peeling from the wood. Lanterns hung from iron brackets outside these homes and shops, their flames flickering in the wind and casting faint, dancing shadows against the walls.
The air was alive with scents and sounds, an intricate tapestry of human livelihood. The aroma of spiced meats roasting on open flames mingled with the tang of freshly baked bread and the metallic bite of forge fires from the craftsmen's quarter. Overhead, the faint hum of magical streetlights mingled with the earthy, smoky scent of burning wood. The voices of vendors echoed through the streets, calling out to passersby in a cacophony of offers and bargains, their words overlapping like the threads of a hurriedly woven cloth.
Further into the city, the streets widened and straightened, giving way to a district marked by refinement and wealth. The buildings here were taller, their surfaces smoother and adorned with ornate carvings of mythical creatures and floral motifs. Windows lined with wrought-iron grilles glimmered faintly in the lantern light, and their interiors hinted at opulence with flickers of gold and silver visible from the street. Magical lampposts stood at even intervals, their enchanted flames burning steady, their white light casting a warm glow across the carefully maintained cobblestones.
The marketplace stretched before them like the heart of the city, its rows of stalls vibrant even under the rising moon. Rich fabrics of deep blues and purples hung from some, while others displayed exotic trinkets that sparkled under the flickering lamplight. Carts laden with spices, dried fruits, and shimmering jewels lined the square, their owners engaged in negotiations with cloaked figures and noble patrons alike. The steady murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of coins and the occasional burst of laughter.
Above it all, the palace of Jordan stood as a beacon of human ambition, its white towers piercing the dark sky. Constructed of marble and adorned with gold inlays, the structure radiated an otherworldly glow in the moonlight, its sharp edges and symmetrical design a stark contrast to the organic chaos of the city below. Surrounding the palace was a garden enclosed by wrought-iron gates, its manicured hedges and vibrant flowers a testament to its inhabitants' wealth and power.
Beyond the pristine outer layer of the city, shadows lingered in the narrow alleys and lesser-used roads. This was where the light of the magical lanterns faded, replaced by the dim glow of small, guttering flames in rusted sconces. Here, the cobblestones were cracked and uneven, littered with scraps of cloth, broken bottles, and other remnants of a life lived on the margins. Figures moved cautiously in the shadows, their forms blending into the darkness as they slipped between buildings, their movements quick and deliberate.
The city was a living contradiction: a bastion of human achievement that teemed with life, yet beneath its gleaming surface, shadows and secrets lurked, waiting for the unwary to stumble into their grasp.
As they walked through the dimming light, Noir broke the silence with his usual riddles.
"What has many mouths but cannot bite?"
"A comb," Zuka replied, barely paying attention.
"What casts no light but is seen most clearly?" Noir continued, his tone playful.
"A shadow," Zuka answered without hesitation.
Noir's grin widened as he posed another question. "What is a nation without a leader?"
Zuka sighed, glancing at his brother. "Why do you choose to annoy me?"
"Because change is afoot, dear brother," Noir said with a cryptic smile. "These riddles are warnings, echoes of the past. The nations we walk upon ignored such signs, and now they are mere paths between ruins."
Zuka nodded, absorbing his brother's words in silence. After a moment, Noir spoke again, his voice soft but firm. "From here on, let me do the talking."
Zuka gave a small nod of agreement.
They walked for a while and soon enough saw the towering structure of an Adventurers' Guild come into view, its size and presence dominating the surrounding street. Noir's crimson eyes flicked toward it, his lips curling into a knowing grin. "There it is," he murmured, his tone low and amused. The beating heart of every city like this—a place where information flows as freely as the ale. Shall we?"
Zuka's golden gaze lingered on the building, his expression measured. "It looks loud and chaotic. Places like this are as likely to feed us lies as they are to offer truth."
"yh, but even lies carry value," Noir countered smoothly, his cloak shifting slightly as his wings flexed beneath it. "You just need to know how to read the intent behind them. Besides, where else will we find whispers about nobles, mercenaries, and their sordid dealings? This place is a goldmine, brother. You know it as well as I do."
Zuka initially said nothing, his expression sarcastic as he considered Noir's words. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, let's get this over with."
As the brothers approached the guild's entrance, they became acutely aware of the stares following them. Even with their royal armor set aside, their cloaks did little to hide the striking features that set them apart. Their horns—golden spirals for Zuka and sleek, void-black curves for Noir—caught the light of the streetlamps, gleaming faintly beneath the folds of their hoods. Their wings, though concealed, added to their broad, regal frames, giving them an aura of undeniable presence.
The guild's interior was a sprawling cacophony of noise, light, and movement. The smell of ale and sweat was overpowering, mingling with the faint metallic tang of weapons being polished at nearby tables. Rough-hewn wooden beams supported the ceiling, and banners hung from the rafters, displaying the crests of various adventuring parties. The walls were lined with racks of swords, axes, and enchanted staves, their sharp edges glinting in the warm glow of magical sconces.
In the far corner, a massive hearth blazed, its flames casting flickering shadows that danced across the room. Adventurers crowded around it, their boisterous laughter filling the air as they exchanged stories of recent exploits. The center of the hall was dominated by a large circular bar, its surface scratched and worn from years of heavy use. Above it hung a chandelier fashioned from the skeletal remains of some great beast, its ribs serving as the frame for enchanted candles that never seemed to burn out.
To one side of the room, an adventurer's board stood tall, covered in tacked-on parchment. Notes scrawled with hastily written requests for monster hunts, treasure retrievals, and missing persons flapped slightly in the breeze from the constantly swinging door. A group of eager-looking recruits crowded around it, their eyes scanning the postings for their first opportunity to prove themselves. Among the pleas for help and promises of gold, one tattered note stood out, its ink smeared but legible: Three travelers missing beyond the city gates. Reward: 50 gold pieces.
Noir's sharp crimson eyes darted across the room as he and Zuka approached the bar. His gaze lingered on a group of mercenaries sitting at a long table, their armor dented and splattered with fresh mud. Another table seated a trio of mages cloaked in deep indigo robes, their quiet conversation punctuated by occasional glances toward a map sprawled out before them.
"This is perfect" Noir murmured under his breath, his smirk faint as his gaze swept across the hall.
Zuka followed silently, his golden eyes scanning the crowd with a measured intensity.
As they neared the bar, whispers rippled through the room, their presence impossible to ignore.
"Dragonkin," someone muttered from a nearby table, their voice low and cautious.
"Look at them," another said. "The horns, the wings—you don't see their kind here unless it's for something big."
"And those cloaks—clean, expensive," added a third. "They've got gold to spend, but what are they really after?"
Noir's smirk widened slightly as his ears caught every word. He leaned toward Zuka, his voice just loud enough to carry between them. "A charming welcome, wouldn't you say? It seems we've been noticed."
Zuka gave a faint nod but remained silent, his focus fixed ahead as they reached the bar.
The receptionist barely glanced up from her ledger, her pen moving swiftly across the page. Blonde hair tied back in a practical braid framed a face that looked as tired as it was focused.
"How may I help you?" she asked, her tone polite but distant as she continued her work.
Noir leaned slightly on the counter, his grin sharp but seemingly friendly. "Four cups of your finest beer," he said smoothly.
The receptionist arched a brow, finally glancing up to meet Noir's gaze. Her eyes flicked briefly to Zuka, then back to Noir. "Finest?" she repeated skeptically. "Most don't bother asking for that here."
"Consider us the exception," Noir replied, his tone light. "A small indulgence."
The receptionist hesitated for a moment before turning to fill their order. Noir's attention wandered back to the room, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd again. He noted the tension in the air around a corner table, where a group of adventurers spoke in hushed tones, their armor scuffed and still streaked with dried blood.
The receptionist returned with four frothy tankards, placing them on the counter with a thud. Noir slid a few silver coins across the bar, adding an extra for good measure. "Keep the change," he said with a wink, lifting two of the drinks and nodding for Zuka to follow.
They found an open table near the edge of the room, sitting close enough to a pair of rough-looking men to overhear their conversation. The men stiffened as the brothers approached, their eyes narrowing at the sight of their polished horns and regal bearing. Noir set the tankards down with deliberate ease, sliding one toward the men with a calm, confident motion.
"Greetings, friends," Noir began, his tone smooth but edged with intent. "They call me Blanche."
The men exchanged wary glances before one of them scowled. "What do you want?"
Noir leaned slightly forward, his smile unwavering. "I seek what is unknown but can be bought."
The second man raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Noir and Zuka. "You think a drink will buy our tongues, dragonkin?"
Before Noir could reply, Zuka placed ten gleaming gold coins on the table with a deliberate clink. The light from the magical sconces reflected off the polished metal, catching the men's attention instantly. Their expressions shifted, suspicion giving way to greed as they pocketed the coins without hesitation.
"Alright," one of them said, leaning forward slightly. "What do you want to know?"
Noir settled back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table. "This city," he began, his tone conversational but pointed. "It feels... disconnected from the human lands. Detached. Who controls it?"
The first man shrugged, his gaze shifting uneasily. "The Duke and a few nobles. They came here years ago, expanded their territory. People here just accept it. A roof over your head is better than none, right?"
Noir's fingers stilled, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It doesn't feel quite... human," he said, his voice trailing off as he scanned the room again.
The second man leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Some say it isn't. Strange things happen here—people disappear, magic lingers in the air. But no one asks questions. Not if they want to stay breathing."
Zuka's golden eyes darkened as he cut in. "And these nobles—where might we find them?"
The first man frowned, his wariness returning. "Why do you want to know?"
Noir's grin sharpened, his tone taking on a disarming edge. "Business," he replied smoothly. "I deal in high-quality elves from the Forest of Kain. I hear the nobles here pay handsomely for such... assets."
The men exchanged uneasy glances before the second one spoke. "City center. The Duke's the one to talk to. Big guy—golden hair, stands out like a sore thumb. You'll know him when you see him."
Noir stood gracefully, lifting his tankard with a nod. "Much obliged," he said, his tone light but edged with finality. "A pleasure doing business."
As they walked away, Noir leaned slightly toward Zuka, his voice low and amused. "And so begins the Kogetsu Brothers Gambit"
Zuka's gaze lingered briefly on the adventurer's board as they passed it, his thoughts flickering to the scribbled pleas and promises pinned there. The city, it seemed, was a patchwork of ambition, desperation, and secrets waiting to be unraveled.