"We need to head to the Tower to burn the Fell corpse," Cassandra said. As they walked, she glanced at the Traveller. "Let me give you a rundown of everything you need to know about being a Nightwatcher. As Nightwatchers, we're granted extraordinary authority—answerable only to the Church of the Goddess. In theory, we have the power to arrest almost any cursed and, if they pose a threat, kill them. But naturally, such power requires strict limits. One of the key restrictions is alignment. You must maintain a good alignment to remain a Nightwatcher."
The Traveller frowned, his thoughts drifting back to when his alignment had been tested. "I still don't really get this whole alignment thing. What's the standard of good and evil? Is it based on intent or action? And by what standards? "
Cassandra's expression became considerate as she considered his questions. "The alignment is based the overall impact you have on the world. According to the Bible of the Goddess, light, existence, life, order, beauty, safety, hope, joy, freedom, youth, creativity, innocence—these are good and those that protect and create them are good. And those that hurt them are evil. "
The Traveller wasn't entirely convinced. "Okay, but what about difficult situations? Say I had a spell that required me to kill one random person in the city, but it would save five others. Would that still be considered good?"
Cassandra's voice dropped, and a flicker of discomfort crossed her face. "I don't like the idea, but in the Goddess's eyes... yes, that would still be good. It's about the greater good, even if it feels wrong."
The Traveller pressed further, his curiosity piqued. "Alright, how about this. Imagine a tyrant who protects a town but demands half of all newborns to be sacrificed. He oppresses the people, causing immense suffering. But if he's overthrown, the town will be destroyed, and everyone inside will die. Does that make him good?"
There was a long silence. Cassandra's gaze darkened, her face clouding over as if recalling something painful. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "In the eyes of the Goddess, that tyrant would still be good—especially if he maintained a Tower of Light to keep the darkness at bay. Sometimes... sacrifices must be made. For the light, for greater life... something can always be sacrificed."
The Traveller was quiet, sensing there was a deeper story behind her words. Cassandra seemed lost in thought, and he decided not to push any further.
After a moment, Cassandra spoke again, her voice steadier. "As Nightwatchers, we have the power to arrest or kill any cursed whose alignment is evil. But there are degrees of evil. While we have authority to act on any cursed leaning toward darkness, we only take direct action on those with pure black or evil alignments and those who have completely embraced corruption. And... there are certain people in power we tend to ignore."
"Compromises?" the Traveller asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Cassandra replied, her tone hardening slightly. "Compromises must be made. People in positions of power, they get... overlooked. If you go after them, you destabilize entire regions. The same goes for local laws. Even though, technically, we can act beyond them, we try to uphold them whenever possible. But Rivendale is different. Because of him... the Governor of Rivendale, I mean... I, we have a lot more freedom to act."
The Traveller tilted his head, sensing there's something more, "The Governor?"
Cassandra hesitated for a moment before answering. "He's a powerful man. He give the Nightwatchers certain... conveniences."
As they spoke, they approached the outskirts of Rivendale. The landscape shifted as the fields and gardens gave way to clusters of buildings. Unlike most cities where people crowded within the walls for protection, Rivendale's unique geography allowed for outcroppings of homes and larger estates spread throughout the countryside. The light of the White Sun overhead bathed the fields in warmth, and the absence of tainted magic in this part of the world gave it a sense of peace.
"Why are there so many buildings outside the city?" the Traveller asked, looking at the sprawling structures dotting the landscape.
"Rivendale doesn't suffer from the same taint that plagues the Dark Forest," Cassandra explained. "Here, people don't have to crowd into the city for safety. The fields and gardens are as much protected as the city itself. The light of the Goddess radiates far beyond the Tower."
"I'm from Darkglades," the Traveller said, his tone thoughtful. "It's very different there. I don't know much about magic, being a commoner. Can you tell me more about Rivendale?"
Cassandra's face brightened, clearly delighted by the question. "Of course!" she chirped, clearly enthusiastic about the topic. "I've actually visited Darkglades once. The first thing you probably noticed is the White Sun, right? Here in Rivendale, the spirit realm contamination is from within the domain of the Goddess. That's why we have the White Sun—it's the Goddess's light."
She paused, her gaze drifting upward toward the bright, unblemished sky. "Darkglades, on the other hand, lies in the Lost Realms. They depend on the Tower's light to keep the Crimson Moon at bay. The moon there... well, it's a manifestation of the spirit realm creeping in, and without the tower's protection, the area would fall deeper into spirit realm."
"The White Sun does feel... different," the Traveller admitted. "It feels warm, and good."
"It's not just the sun," Cassandra added. "We also have the rose gardens. They're one of the most beautiful wonders in the Fairytale Province."
As they continued walking, the sprawling rose gardens gradually gave way to rows of apartments. These were clearly the poorer districts of Rivendale, but even here, there was a sense of order and cleanliness. The Traveller noted the contrast with the outer districts of Darkglades, where poverty was synonymous with filth and decay.
The streets were alive with merchants advertising their wares, their voices carrying over the noise of the crowd. One particular vendor caught the Traveller's attention, pushing a cart and shouting:
"One silver for a pint! Best deal you're going to get! Official blood collector here—clean and safe!"
The Traveller blinked, confused. "Blood collectors?" he asked, turning to Cassandra.
She nodded, her expression unfazed. "Yes. The roses of Rivendale are magical, but they come with a price. They need to be watered with human blood to flourish. Most of the commoners here donate their blood as part of their livelihood."
The Traveller's brow furrowed as he processed that. "One silver for a pint of blood... That's almost enough to live off for a month or two in Darkglades."
Cassandra smirked. "Yes, people in Rivendale live in relative abundance compared to the rest of the Empire." She winked, her tone light. "Which is also why we're known for having some of the best entertainment outside of the capital, Avelorn. They don't call Rivendale the City of Roses and Joy for nothing."
"Entertainment, huh?" the Traveller asked, intrigued. "What kind of joys are we talking about?"
Cassandra raised an eyebrow, suspicion flashing in her eyes. "Are you thinking of something inappropriate?"
The Traveller shrugged innocently. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
She huffed playfully. "Typical of men." Then, with a slight smirk, she added, "No, Rivendale isn't known for... that. At least not on the surface. What we are known for is our theater, fine dining, and the cultural experiences that draw people from across the province."
Changing the subject, Cassandra stepped over to a nearby vendor and returned with three small bottles filled with a shimmering liquid. "Here, try this!" she said, handing a bottle to the Traveller. "It's rose nectar jelly—one of Rivendale's specialties."
She handed the second bottle to John, who accepted it with his usual stoic expression. "Oh, come on," she teased him. "You don't always have to be so serious. We caught the witch without even needing your sword."
John gave her a stern look but took a sip of the jelly, saying nothing.
The Traveller inspected the bottle for a moment before taking a cautious sip.
The subtle flavor of roses bloomed in his mouth, intertwining with floral undertones that were both refreshing and luxurious. The balance of sweetness and fragrance was perfect—neither overpowering nor too faint.
"It's made from the magical roses of Rivendale," Cassandra explained, watching his reaction closely. "The magic is mostly distilled out, of course, so it's safe for commoners to enjoy. It's one of the city's best treats. "
The Traveller nodded appreciatively. "I can see why. This is fantastic."
Cassandra beamed. "I'm glad you like it! We have plenty of other delicacies you'll have to try while you're here. Our food is one of the reasons people flock to Rivendale."
As they walked further into the city, the Traveller couldn't help but feel the stark difference between Rivendale and Darkglades. The people here were relaxed, their faces devoid of the hard, hollow looks he had grown used to seeing in Darkglades. The buildings, even in the poorer districts, were well-kept, and the air felt lighter, less oppressive.
"So, everyone lives well here, huh?" the Traveller mused
Cassandra's smile faltered, just for a moment. "For the most part, yes," she said quietly. "But the price of beauty and prosperity isn't without its sacrifices. Blood is the least of it... The City of Roses and Joy... well, it can be hard to see past the surface sometimes. Not everyone thrives."
Her words hung in the air as they continued walking, and the Traveller felt a subtle undercurrent of tension in her voice. Despite the beauty of Rivendale, there were hidden costs, just like in every other place touched by magic.
They passed another set of rose gardens, the bright, vibrant petals swaying gently in the breeze. The Traveller glanced at the blood collectors again, their carts filling with pints of blood to sustain the city's beauty.
"If everyone lives so well here and survive comfortably just by donating blood, who will become the Beggars of Charity?" the Traveller asked.
Cassandra glanced at the blood collectors and then at him, her expression unreadable. "The city has its ways..."
Her words were cryptic, but they carried a deeper meaning that the Traveller couldn't quite grasp yet. Rivendale, for all its beauty, had its own dark side.