Water dripped from the roof, the sound of droplets echoing in the silence of a dark alley.
A man stood cloaked in shadows, his eyes fixed on a lifeless body sprawled across the damp ground. Slowly, a sinister grin spread across his face. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small, glinting object. Without so much as a glance backward, he slipped it into his coat and disappeared into the night, his footsteps swallowed by the rain-soaked streets.
---
Fort was already awake. The dim light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the shutters, illuminating the cluttered room.
Fort stepped out of his small house, the cool morning air greeting him as he made his way through the narrow streets of Misthaven. The soft clink of the chain on his pocket, where the emblem rested. The streets, still damp from last night's rain, smelled faintly of wet stone and earth.
As he walked toward the bakery, the sounds of the bustling city began to rise around him. People were already going about their business—merchants setting up their stalls, children playing in the streets, and farmers unloading their carts of fresh produce. Fort's mind wandered, distracted by the jumble of rumors he overheard from the townsfolk.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a woman huddled near a storefront, whispering to an elderly man. Her voice, hushed and urgent, caught Fort's attention.
"Did you hear? They say the guard have started gathering near the South Gate," she said, glancing around as if worried someone might be listening. "And it's not just for the usual patrols. There's Something strange."
The old man nodded solemnly. "Aye, I've heard it too. Strange sightings, they say. People have seen shadowy figures lurking by the old North Gate. They say it's not safe out there anymore."
Fort's ears perked up at the mention of the North Gate. It wasn't the first time he had heard rumors about the region, but it always seemed like there was something more. People were too afraid to speak openly, their voices laced with fear.
(Maybe Because its forbidden? But why tho)
He continued walking, his thoughts interrupted by the sound of a street vendor shouting from a nearby cart.
"Fresh bread, hot and soft! Come get your bread! Only a few loaves left!"
Fort approached the stall, his stomach growling. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the night before. As he handed over a few coins, a nearby man with a long, tattered coat leaned toward him.
"You're from out of town, right?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes darting around nervously. "Be careful, lad. People around here are talking about the Aerial Family again."
Fort's eyebrows furrowed as he took the bread. "The Aerial Family..?"
The man nodded, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his coat. He glanced around, his voice trembling as he whispered, "Don't say that name out loud, They hear… everything. The Aerials… they're one of the oldest noble houses out of Four Noblemen in the empire. Goes back centuries. back before Misthaven was even a proper city. They were around when the first Emperor was still crawling around."
Fort remained silent, his mind racing. The Aerial Family? (What is exactly aerial Family?)
Before he could ask more, a loud shout came from further down the street.
"Watch out! A fight's breaking out!"
Fort turned to see a small crowd gathering near an alleyway. The commotion grew louder, and shouts echoed into the street. He felt the familiar stir of curiosity but continued walking toward the bakery, where the scent of the bread was becoming too tempting to ignore.
As he broke off from the crowd, he overheard another conversation from a group of women nearby.
"You've heard about the strange things happening in the woods near the West Gate, haven't you?" one of them said, her voice trembling. "People say they've seen figures moving in the trees, and there's a strange glow at night. My brother swears he saw something come out of the forest, covered in strange markings."
"Don't be silly, Marissa," another woman said, but she didn't sound entirely convinced. "Those are just stories to scare children. Nothing more."
"But I've heard it from too many people," Marissa insisted. "And my uncle swears there's something buried deep in the forest, something old and powerful."
Fort's footsteps slowed. The rumors, though disjointed, painted a picture of something unsettling beyond the city's walls. Each gate, each area had its own mystery, its own dangers. The tension in the air was palpable, out of the corner of his eye, the street vendor's face flickered—one moment human, the next a contorted mask of hollow eyes and a jagged grin. Fort blinked, and the man was normal again.
He took a deep breath and turned back toward his destination. (Hallucinations?.. is this the effect of Corrupted Soul that Ignis talked about the other day?)
With the bread in his hand, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more at play in Misthaven than he had initially realized.
And as he made his way back toward "his" House, the city around him buzzed with whispers, each one a thread in a larger, unknowable story.
Back at Fortis House
In the small kitchen, he warmed a piece of bread over a makeshift pan while nibbling on another. An old, leather-bound book lay open on the table beside him, its yellowed pages covered in cryptic symbols and hastily scribbled notes.
He had been painstakingly translating it, line by line, overnight.
19th October
The Pioneers are utterly ruthless. Despite being an imperial force, their existence remains shrouded in secrecy.
That was what the informant claimed.
20th October
There's something peculiar about the Aerial Family, They consistently avoid the Emperor's gatherings.
(This name again... just who is they are?)
22nd October
Yesterday defies simple description. So much happened, and so much was learned.
For instance, the informant revealed this: each of the Four Families possesses one or two Celestial Creations.
A note: According to the informant, Celestial Creations are mystical artifacts imbued with extraordinary powers. Most take the form of pendants, though their shapes vary greatly.
The Pioneers, too, seem to possess several Celestial Creations. Maybe more than Several...
Mystical powers... I understand now. This emblem wields the power to bind something—or someone. Could its origin lie with the gods?
25th October
No.
It's not just power these Celestial Creations hold. There's something more—something alive.
Many of those who use a Celestial Creation lose their minds, succumbing to hallucinations so vivid and overwhelming that they end their own lives or are confined to asylums.
[Translation ends here.]
Fort leaned back in his chair, frowning deeply. He had used the emblem himself, yet he felt no overwhelming side effects—only fleeting whispers at the edge of his thoughts, like a faint voice calling from a great distance. Still, the warnings were clear.
He glanced back at one particular passage.
"19th October: The Pioneers are utterly ruthless. Despite being an imperial force, their existence remains shrouded in secrecy."
"20th October: There's something peculiar about the Aerial Family. They consistently avoid the Emperor's gatherings."
What could the diary's owner have been searching for? Fort wondered.
The writer seemed both terrified and compelled, drawn toward uncovering truths that others deliberately ignored.
But the passage that lingered in Fort's mind the most was this
"The Aerial Family exists outside the rules. They are bound neither to the Emperor nor to the laws of men. Their legacy stretches back to a time when this land was wilder, darker… untouched by the Empire's grasp."
(Who's the owner of this book?)
Fort's thoughts swirled, questions piling one atop another with no answers in sight. His eyes shifted to the clock on the wall. Morning light was already creeping through the curtains, its soft glow at odds with the storm of urgency building in his chest.
Wasting no time, he reached for his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly as he dressed in haste. The emblem, cool and heavy in his hand, found its place tucked securely into the inner pocket of his coat. For a moment, his hand lingered there, as if the simple act of holding it could grant clarity to the chaos in his mind.
He moved to the front door, his steps brisk but cautious. The quiet stillness of the morning hung in the air, broken only by the faint calls of distant birds. The world outside was just waking, yet to stir from its slumber.
With one last glance over his shoulder, Fort pushed the door open and stepped into the pale morning light. The chill of the early hour prickled against his skin, sharpening his senses.
The cool morning air greeted him as he stepped into the streets. His footsteps echoed in the quiet dawn, the weight of the emblem in his pocket a constant reminder of the task ahead. As he approached the cathedral, its towering spires looming against the pale sky, he couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out.
With a slow, deliberate breath, Fort pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The air inside was cool and heavy, the faint scent of old wood and faint incense lingering in the stillness. The silence pressed against his ears, broken only by the soft echo of his boots against the polished floor.
"Morning, Fortis."
The voice, calm yet sharp, cut through the quiet like a blade. Fort's eyes snapped toward the source, his hand instinctively brushing the pocket where the emblem rested. At the far end of the vast hall stood Mr. Alaric, his posture straight, his presence commanding. It was as if he'd been standing there, waiting, all along.
"Morning, Mr. Alaric," Fort replied, keeping his tone polite but measured. His gaze flickered over the older man, noting the precision of his movements, the faint gleam of a silver cufflink catching the light.
A faint smile ghosted across Alaric's lips, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I will be your teacher for the next month," he stated simply, the words carrying a weight that seemed out of proportion.
Fort stiffened. He's my mentor? The thought sent a ripple of unease through him, though he kept his expression neutral.
"Follow me," Alaric said, wasting no time on further explanation. His tone brooked no argument as he turned and strode toward the exit. "We won't be practicing here. We're heading to the South Gate."
Fort hesitated for a fraction of a second before falling into step behind him. His instincts screamed for caution. There was an air about him, a quiet control that made Fort's skin prickle.
The carriage ride to the South Gate was no less unsettling. Alaric sat across from him, his gaze fixed on the view beyond the window. His stillness was unnerving, almost unnatural, as if the man had no need for the idle gestures most people made to fill silence.
(The mere existence of this person sends a shiver through my entire body... and for reasons I can't explain...)
Fort's curiosity clawed at him, but so did his unease. He studied Alaric from the corner of his eye—the sharp cut of his coat, the faint trace of a scar running along his jawline, the way his hands rested, perfectly steady, on his lap.
"Mr. Alaric," Fort began cautiously, "why are we training at the South Gate? Wouldn't it be safer near the cathedral?"
Alaric turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "You're new to Misthaven, aren't you?"
Fort nodded. "That's right. I only arrived a few days ago."
Alaric let out a faint chuckle. "Then let me explain the gates of this city. Misthaven has four main gates, each guarded by the Pioneers, depending on the level of threats they typically face."
Fort leaned forward, hanging on to every word.
"The East Gate," Alaric began, "is the main entry point. That's where most people come and go—merchants, travelers, ordinary folk. It's guarded mostly by low-ranked Pioneers, who are enough to handle minor troubles."
Fort nodded, remembering how he first entered the city through the East Gate.
"The South and West Gates are different," Alaric continued. "Both are guarded by mid-ranked Pioneers. The areas beyond these gates are wilder, with threats from bandits, wild beasts, and sometimes things that are… far more dangerous."
There was a subtle change in Alaric's tone when he said dangerous, and it made the hairs on the back of Fort's neck stand on end.
"What about the North Gate?" Fort asked, his curiosity piqued.
Alaric leaned back in his seat, his expression turning serious. "The North Gate is a different story entirely. Not many people come or go through it. The security is extremely tight—only three guards, but each of them is a high-ranking Pioneer. On top of that, there are additional guards sent directly by the Emperor himself."
Fort frowned, confused. "Why are imperial guards stationed there?"
"That's a good question," Alaric replied, his voice lowering slightly. His eyes narrowed, as though carefully weighing his words. "What lies beyond the North Gate remains a closely guarded secret. But one thing is certain…"
He paused, meeting Fort's gaze.
"Whatever it is, the Yhrone Empire considers it dangerous enough to warrant such protection. Venturing beyond these walls is… unwise. There are dangers, yes, but also uncertainties that one should not take lightly."
Fort swallowed, the weight of Alaric's words settling heavily on his shoulders. as the carriage jostled along the uneven road, Fort broke the silence. "Mr. Alaric,why does Misthaven have four gates? Most cities wouldn't go to such lengths to guard every direction."
Alaric, who had been idly gazing out the window, turned his attention to Fort with a faint smile. "An excellent question, Fort. But you should know, the answer isn't entirely clear—not even to me."
Fort blinked, caught off guard. "You don't know? I thought someone of your standing would have access to such knowledge."
Alaric chuckled, the sound low and deliberate. "There are many things about Misthaven that remain deliberately obscured, even to those of us tasked with protecting it. But I can tell you what is commonly understood—though it may only scratch the surface."
Fort straightened, eager for whatever insight he could glean.
"On the surface, the gates serve practical purposes," Alaric began, his tone measured. "The East Gate, as you've seen, is the city's main artery. Trade flows in and out through there, filling the coffers of merchants and officials alike.
The South Gate leads to the farmlands and villages, vital for sustaining the city's food supply. The West Gate, however…" He trailed off, his gaze narrowing as though recalling some unpleasant memory.
"What about the West Gate?" Fort prompted.
"It leads to the forests," Alaric said after a pause, his voice quieter. "They're dense, ancient, and… unsettling. The Pioneers stationed there rarely speak of what they see—or hear—when patrolling beyond the treeline. Some rumors claim the forest holds remnants of old magic, dangerous and unpredictable."
Fort felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. "And the North Gate?"
Alaric's expression hardened. "That gate is the most heavily guarded of them all. It faces the mountains, which are treacherous in their own right. But it's not the terrain the guards are concerned with."
Fort leaned forward. "Then what is it?"
Alaric sighed, his voice dropping to a murmur. "That's the question, isn't it? Some say the mountains hold remnants of an ancient war, forgotten by all but the Empire."
Alaric's words lingered in Fort's mind like a splinter. He glanced out the carriage window as they passed the West Gate. The trees beyond loomed tall and dark, their shadows stretching like grasping hands toward the city walls.
Fort frowned, the weight of Alaric's words settling uneasily in his chest. "But why four gates? Why not fewer, if the risks are so great?"
"That," Alaric said with a faint, humorless smile, "is something no one seems to know. The official explanation is that the gates are a remnant of the city's original design—built centuries ago, when Misthaven was more fortress than settlement. But if you ask me…" He paused, looking toward the looming South Gate ahead.
"There's a purpose to the gates we aren't told. Something beyond trade or defense. And whatever it is, the Yhrone Empire has ensured that those who know the truth will take it to their graves."
(Even Mr. Alaric spoke of the North Gate in veiled terms... Perhaps it's best if I steer clear of it, for now, at least.)
Fort stared out the window, his thoughts swirling. The massive gates of Misthaven no longer looked like simple fortifications. They felt like secrets carved into stone, their true purpose locked away in silence.