Azzel lay on his soft mattress, feeling that the cost of a few gold coins was worth it.
After the events from yesterday, Azzel planned to be more subtle in his approach, fearing that interacting too much like a desperado would likely attract unwanted attention.
He swiftly washed himself and savored the tavern's lively atmosphere during his breakfast.
Once noon arrived, he set out to the city center and stood quietly at the edge of the busy marketplace. Abaddon remained on his side, scrutinizing the crowd with his vigilant eyes.
Vendors called out to their wares, the city folk haggling about the high prices, and some travelers and merchant caravans wandering around the square.
Azzel became bored after a while and started moving through the crowd. He lingered by the stalls long enough to listen to their conversations.
It was filled with complaints about taxes, mentions of the Inquisition's advances, Concord's peculiar silence within the city, the guild's futile attempts to secure order, and merchants' and travelers' frustrations due to the bandit camps nearby.
Azzel had been hearing about the bandit camps for a while now and wondered if the bandits he had met earlier were involved.
"The Concord seems to be in the middle of something, refraining from showing action unless necessary. We should understand the underlying circumstances, just in case."
Abaddon nodded and advised him to be wary. "Their intentions are still unclear, master. If they sense your power, they might respond unfriendly."
"Will they not sense the dark magic power within you?" Azzel whispered a lingering concern that crossed his mind.
Abaddon shook his head. "My body has been reinforced after your countless blessings, master. It will contain the dark magic coursing through me very well. With your concealment ability in effect, it adds an extra layer of protection in my disguise."
"I am relieved then."
The pair began to retreat toward the tavern when Azzel noticed a small store tucked between two larger shops. A faded wooden sign above the door read Cartographer's Corner, its letters worn but still legible.
"I almost forgot, we need maps," Azzel said, pausing and gesturing to the shop. "One of Alton and another of this city."
Abaddon nodded silently and followed his master inside.
The thick scent of ink and old parchment hung in the air. Barely anything could be seen on the shelves of the narrow store, and the walls displayed symbols from various empires and organizations across Alton.
A balding man stood behind the counter, greeting them with a practiced smile. "Welcome, dear customer. Looking for a map for your travels, I take it?"
Azzel stepped forward, scanning the remaining maps. The vivid illustrations and geometric markings glimmered faintly, hinting at subtle magical enhancements woven into the ink.
"I need one of Alton," he said quietly, "and another of Doba City... with as much detail as possible."
The cartographer grunted, pulling out two scrolls. "You're in luck. The shop's been in turmoil all day with folks grabbing maps, especially now with the Inquisition involved."
Azzel paid without comment and handed the scrolls to Abaddon. Once outside, they sneaked into an alley where Azzel carefully stored the maps in his ring.
'The tavern owner has shown slight suspicion of us,' he thought. 'No need to draw his attention over a few map scrolls.'
He covered his ring and both returned to the tavern just before sundown. As they made their way upstairs, Azzel noticed Rudgel watching him with quiet interest. He ignored it and settled into his room to sort this day's observations.
'The city might become unsteady in the coming days.' he unfurled the map scroll of Doba City on his wooden desk and glanced at the various points of interest. 'I need to know this city's layout and all points of interest for my plans.'
The cartographer's work surprised Azzel as it showed a staggering amount of information about the city.
Around the center was a large rectangular compound marked, outlined by black lines bolder than the rest. Several triangular shapes surrounded the area, denoting the presence of guard towers, while a black fence symbolized its main gate.
Azzel frowned and found it intriguing. 'Who would be daring enough to chart the city with exquisite details?'
If the map fell into the wrong hands, Doba City would be defenseless; its secrets uncovered, its treasures exposed, and its vulnerabilities exploited.
The map may remain in his possession, though he doubted it was the only copy.
His eyes moved through a long stretch of faint broken lines discreetly labeled as Abandoned Tunnels. Various entrances were marked both inside and outside the city limits.
'I can use this to navigate for a while, but that shouldn't be the case for long.'
Many of the tunnel's entrances swarmed around a greyed-out area in the northwest labeled the Darkwood District. When viewed from above, its narrow streets formed a chaotic, branching web that reminded Azzel of a human nervous system.
He mused that the cartographer must have either paid a great amount for this or infused his experiences into the map.
'Hmm? What's this solitary tower on the outer eastern section?'
His hands pointed at a large triangular symbol directly connected to a road that led to the plains. It was irregularly placed and Azzel was unsure of its real purpose.
'I can use that to scout the city or the area far ahead.'
After committing the city's layout to his mind, Azzel retrieved the scroll and took out the larger map scroll of Alton, its edges worn and the illustrations somewhat crude.
The details were far from professional, bothering him for a short while, but they were enough to serve his purpose. He wanted to see if escaping the city was an option in case things got out of his hand.
The entire land of Alton seemed to be one single continent, with each dominion separated by mountains, rivers, or other reasons.
Erterin lay in the barren south, facing a vast ocean that stretched into obscurity. To the northeast was the sprawling Caprian Holy State, its territories bordering the untamed Drakmorr Dominion farther north.
Azzel's eyes scanned the locations of nearby cities, quickly finding Doba situated in the northwest of Erterin.
Three major roads diverged from the city; one leading north to a Caprian city, another heading east toward the southern regions, and the last going westward.
"The eastern road," he thought, frowning at the southern route. "... is too far south, and likely barren. It's not worth my trouble."
His gaze moved to the northern road. "Out of the question," he decided. "That's probably the route the Inquisition would use."
Finally, his attention turned westward.
Logic told him this road led to the most viable destination, but something nagged at him. The thought of the Ashen Veil lingered in his mind like a shadow he couldn't shake.
"If I were them, I'd use the western road for logistics and supply lines. It's too strategic to ignore."
With how these cultists were so brazen nowadays, maintaining such a high level of activity required a significant amount of manpower and resources. Transporting either of them as quickly as possible would require a road not within Capria's reach, but still good enough to move unobstructed.
"The eastern and southern areas are too barren for them to gain benefits, and the northern is within Capria's territories."
Since that was the case, there was no doubt that the Ashen Veil had a foothold on the westward city to secure and move their goods.
The only question was, how much of the western city was in their control?
A dozen scenarios raced through Azzel's head, weighing risks and opportunities, but his conclusion remained the same.
"Stay in Doba City."
Azzel let out a breath and rolled up the map, storing it in his ring. For now, leaving wasn't an option. If he was to survive, he'd have to navigate the dangers of where he was.
He laid back on his bed, letting his thoughts slowly drift away under the cold night's ambiance.
The next day, Azzel changed his approach and went to a quiet stall selling herbs and small charms. He picked up an item and attempted to make small talk with the vendor.
"Seems like a busy place. Though it should not be that bad, right?"
The vendor gave him a sharp look.
"Busy indeed. But things have changed here, and those without ties are in trouble." she glanced around, afraid of being overheard, then lowered her voice. "I heard that most people turned to the guilds. The city guards are becoming incapable, while others prefer to keep to themselves. You should be wary, young man, lest they land their eyes on you."
She said no more and leaned back on her chair, her serious demeanor vanishing without a trace.
"Guess that's the way with most places." Azzel forked out a few copper coins for the charm and made his way back to the tavern.
He sat on the wooden chair, leaning over the desk.
'The people are too wary and not in a mood for much chatter. I should hasten my search but remain steady in my approach.'
His eyes glanced at the storage ring but suppressed himself. His mind remained unsettled and he could not focus on reading the rest of the books.
The next day came fast and today, Azzel moved to a quieter part of the city center, near the old man who looked listless from the get-go. He approached a stall selling worn trinkets, carefully picking up a piece.
"This piece is interesting. You get all sorts of things here, don't you?"
The vendor shrugged, indifferent to his words, and answered warily. "Yeah, but it's only so much until we cross the line."
Azzel gave him a sidelong glance, "What kind of line would one not dare cross in the city?"
The vendor leaned over, with a lowered voice.
"A lot, call it an intersection and you are within it. The city lord, the guilds, the Concord, the Ashen Veil, and soon, Capria's Inquisition group. Folks like us should keep our heads down until it passes. Otherwise, you'll find yourself being replaced no sooner than dusk."
Azzel nodded and slipped the trinket into his pocket, catching the intent between the vendor's hidden warning.
As he walked away, he noticed something watching him from the shadows. They disappeared as soon as he tried to make contact, but this brief encounter lingered on his mind.
'What was that? Did I catch someone's attention?'
He was unsure if the person was an ally or an enemy.
Afraid of luring something dangerous, Azzel returned earlier than before. He could still feel Rudgel's lingering gaze, but he paid it no mind.
Another day passed again.
As Azzel paved through the market, he overheard two men whispering near a dark alleyway.
He slowed down, approaching a nearby stall and pretending to examine its wares.
The first man whispered excitedly, though the first part of his sentence was cut off.
"…another one almost taken in by the Veil last night. They say he was practically pulled off the street."
The other man glanced around nervously.
"Good thing that the Knights of Glory were nearby. Those cultist bastards couldn't even put up a fight!"
His partner shook his head and was rather impressed.
"Of course, they're no ordinary group. Some even said they saw her, that Stormwind woman, wielding both air and lightning through her sword! The Ashen Veil must be fuming after that."
"And now they're even more on edge. Man, if these knights weren't here, I doubt Doba City would last longer."
The two continued their chatter but Azzel found them uninformative. He was interested in the recent clash between this Ashen Veil group and the Knights of Glory.
'That person said she wielded two natures of magic at once. I wonder how powerful she is…'
Azzel did not linger for long and moved to the next stall. It was becoming clear that the city was now engulfed in a quiet battle between the Ashen Veil, the city lord, the Concord, and the other local forces.
Azzel had no idea behind the chaos erupting around, though he knew that taking one misstep could land him in a precarious situation.
Upon returning to the tavern, Rudgel gave him a suspicious gaze, yet again. This was getting on his nerves and wondered about the reasons for the tavern owner becoming obsessed with the tavern's patron's business.
'He seems wary of trouble and preferably tries to avoid patrons with unlawful intentions or suspicious identities. I can only hope my assumptions about the owner are correct.'
Azzel noted this consistent yet strange behavior from the tavern owner and soon went to sleep.
The next day, Azzel lingered around the city center far longer than expected. He did not know why but it felt as if staying later today would yield something he wanted.
A figure walked out from the shadows as Azzel approached the dark alleyway. The stranger's voice traveled through his ears, speaking softly.
"Troubling times have arisen, aren't they?"
Azzel tried to keep his expression neutral, "And what would you know of it?"
The stranger smiled under the hood of their cloak.
"Enough to see that you are seeking something beyond the ordinary. For someone like you, there are ways to bypass certain rules. But you know that it is a path not taken by many, and not many have lived to tell the tale of that path."
Azzel was intrigued by their cryptic yet charismatic words, "And why should I believe that you can offer that?"
The stranger suddenly held out a card, etched with some unknown symbol.
"The choices offered to you are few and far between. The Ashen Veil's presence is everywhere, the Concord's eyes follow them, the guilds wager contracts at dangerous matters, the city lord's guards loom over all, and soon, the Inquisition's words will bellow at their atrocities. But those who know the right paths can navigate between them... if they are willing to make the necessary sacrifice."
The stranger tilted their head, assessing Azzel closely.
"Take this card and meet me tomorrow night if you are ready to hear what the path for you entails. The card will guide you on your way. Do not lose it."
Azzel considered his options and reluctantly accepted it, feeling a faint pulse of energy as he slipped the card into his cloak. He watched as the stranger disappeared from the dark alleyway with excitement and wariness.
He had been searching for days in vain and now, found a path filled with both opportunities and risks.
He didn't realize that everyone around him seemed indifferent to their strange confrontation, as though it was merely a figment of their imagination.