The city's walls rose high, a looming silhouette against the morning sky. They were old, ancient even, weathered by time yet standing strong, a testament to the power that lay within. The gates were open, but there was a heaviness in the air as the group approached—like the city itself was watching them, judging their every move. The marketplace on the outer edge of the city was bustling with activity, but the deeper they ventured, the more the atmosphere shifted. The shadows grew longer, the streets narrower, and the buildings taller. It was clear that the city held secrets—secrets that Achem was determined to uncover.
As they made their way through the winding streets, Achem could feel the eyes of the city on them. The faces of merchants, beggars, and guards flicked toward them, their gazes calculating, but none dared approach. The silence in the air was almost palpable, like a storm waiting to break. His hand tightened around his sword, the grip almost instinctual now. There was no room for hesitation. If anyone in this city knew his true identity—or had an inkling of it—it would be his life on the line.
"We need information," Achem muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Lysara glanced sideways at him. "And we will get it. But we need to be careful. The city might seem open, but it's full of eyes that belong to people who prefer to stay in the shadows."
Achem nodded. Lysara wasn't wrong. This city had the feel of a place where power was always lurking just beneath the surface, ready to strike when you least expected it. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was out of his depth. They had no allies here, no solid leads. It was a gamble, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to pay the price.
Their first stop was a tavern near the market square—unremarkable from the outside but humming with the kind of quiet activity Achem had learned to distrust. He had learned quickly that taverns were places where information flowed freely, but so did deceit. Everyone had something to sell, and sometimes that something was a lie. But it was a risk they had to take.
The tavern's sign swayed in the breeze—a faded wooden board with the image of a broken sword hanging loosely. Achem pushed open the door, his presence commanding attention as he stepped into the dimly lit interior. The patrons didn't react right away, but Achem could feel their eyes on him, sizing him up. Some were drunk, some were deep in conversation, but all seemed to be aware of the newcomers.
Lysara led the way to an empty corner table, her movements graceful but purposeful. Garron followed silently, his grizzled features not betraying the wariness that Achem could sense emanating from him. The rest of the mercenaries took their places around the room, their eyes always scanning, always alert.
Achem sat back, watching as Lysara flagged down a serving girl. A moment later, a young woman approached, her eyes darting between them with curiosity.
"What can I get you?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.
"Information," Achem said, his tone low but firm.
The girl hesitated, her gaze flicking toward the bar, where a burly man with a scar running down his cheek was watching them intently. She leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"Not a good idea to be asking about that kind of thing here," she said, glancing nervously toward the man at the bar. "People in this city have a way of vanishing when they ask too many questions."
Achem's eyes narrowed, but he kept his expression neutral. "We don't want trouble. We just need to know where to look."
The girl looked around, weighing her options. Then, with a resigned sigh, she pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with them. "You're new here, right? Fresh off the road?"
Achem nodded.
"I figured. You don't have the look of someone who's been in the city long enough to know where to find things," she said, her eyes glinting with something between curiosity and caution. "What kind of information are you after? You'd be wise to be more specific. People here don't like it when strangers start digging too deep."
Achem leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on her. "We're looking for someone. Someone who might know about the strange things happening in the world right now. People who have the power to see things that shouldn't be seen. We need to find them before it's too late."
The girl studied him carefully, then slowly leaned back. "There are rumors," she said softly. "Rumors about a group who call themselves the Veil. They're the ones who pull the strings here—shadowy figures with too much power and too many secrets. People say they can see the future, control the past, and manipulate the present. But no one's ever seen them in person. They operate through intermediaries—like the summoner you dealt with."
Achem's heart skipped a beat. The Veil. That was the name the summoner had mentioned. It was clear now that whatever had brought him here wasn't an accident. The Veil was involved in this, and they were more than just a group of conspirators—they were the ones pulling the strings of this entire world.
"Where can we find them?" Lysara asked, her voice sharp, demanding.
The girl hesitated again, glancing around. "You're not the first to ask. But even if I knew, I'd have to be careful who I tell. The Veil has ears everywhere, and their reach is long. All I can say is, if you want to know more, you might try the old temple to the west. It's abandoned now, but some say the Veil uses it as a meeting place."
Achem nodded, his mind already racing with the possibilities. The temple was the key—if the Veil used it as a meeting place, it might hold answers.
He didn't hesitate. "Thank you," he said, standing abruptly. "We'll find our way there."
The girl gave a small, nervous smile. "Be careful," she said softly, watching as Achem and his group made their way out of the tavern. "In this city, people who ask too many questions… well, they disappear."
As the door swung shut behind them, Achem could feel the weight of her words settle in. The walls of the city weren't the only things closing in on him. The shadows, too, were beginning to tighten.
But he wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
He had a purpose now. And he wasn't going to let anyone—or anything—stand in his way.
As Achem and his group continued through the narrow streets, the urgency of their situation pressed heavily upon them. The temple to the west might hold the answers they were searching for, but before they could go any further, there were several pressing matters that couldn't be ignored.
"We're going to need provisions," Achem said, glancing at Lysara. His tone was steady, but the hunger gnawing at his stomach was undeniable. "Food, water… and we can't keep wearing these clothes and wielding these broken weapons. We need to change our equipment, especially if we're going into unknown territory."
Lysara nodded in agreement. "Agreed. But where are we going to get the money for all of that? Our purses aren't exactly overflowing."
Achem frowned. He had been thinking about that too. They had no reliable source of income here, and the city was full of eyes that would watch their every move. Robbing merchants was out of the question—they would likely find themselves with more enemies than they could handle. There was no easy solution. "We'll have to make do with what we can find. Maybe there are jobs to be had, or a merchant willing to trade information for something valuable."
Garron, who had been silent up until now, spoke up, his voice low but full of experience. "We'll need to be discreet about this. The city guards aren't the only ones who keep watch over these streets. There are more dangerous people lurking in the shadows—people who'd sell you out for a handful of coins."
Achem looked around. The marketplace at the edge of the city was already a distant memory, and the deeper they moved into the heart of the city, the more treacherous the ground seemed to become. They needed to act fast, but they couldn't afford to be hasty.
"We'll find a way. But first, let's go to the marketplace," Achem decided. "We'll get what we can for food and provisions. If there's anyone with good gear, we'll see if we can strike a deal. And if not, we might have to make our own fortune before we can move forward."
Lysara, ever the pragmatic one, gave a small nod. "It's not ideal, but it's our best shot."
They made their way back toward the marketplace. The crowd had thinned a little by the time they arrived, the midday heat beginning to chase people indoors. Still, the marketplace was alive with merchants hawking their wares. Stalls lined the streets, offering everything from dried meats and fresh bread to trinkets and weapons.
Achem's gaze swept over the wares, searching for anything that might be useful. They would need food to sustain them on the journey, and fresh supplies were always preferable to scavenged ones. But they also needed armor and weapons—nothing too flashy, but something sturdy enough to give them an edge if they ran into trouble.
Lysara paused in front of a weapons stall, inspecting a set of daggers. "These might be useful," she said, holding up a pair of short, curved blades. "Light, but deadly."
Garron grunted. "Not enough. We'll need something heavier, for all of us."
Achem considered for a moment. He had always favored speed over brute strength, but there were times when a heavy sword or axe could be the difference between life and death.
"We'll make do for now," Achem said, nodding to the stall keeper. "How much for the daggers?"
The stall keeper, a scruffy man with a sharp smile, named his price. It wasn't cheap, but it wasn't outrageous either. Achem handed over what coins he had left from their last raid, and the daggers were theirs. They would need to make the most of what they had.
But as they turned to leave the stall, a commotion erupted a few streets away.
Loud voices, shouting. Something was happening.
Achem's instincts kicked in immediately. This was it—the moment he had been waiting for. Answers were out there. And the city was about to provide them.