After two days of rough travel, Rudra finally reached the gates of Thornhelm.
The coachman nudged him awake.
"Wake up, mister. We've reached your destination."
Rudra groaned, rubbing his eyes.
"Ugh... I swear I'll never get used to this cursed way of traveling."
The coach moved further into the city as Rudra stepped down and passed through Thornhelm's towering iron gates. The streets bustled with evening life—merchants closing stalls, children chasing each other in alleyways, guards making rounds.
"Alright... first things first," Rudra mumbled, stretching his stiff arms. "A hot meal. Then I'll meet the Duke. But let's find an inn before anything else."
---
Later That Evening
Rudra woke from a short nap at the inn, stomach growling.
Standing in front of the mirror, he ran a hand through his messy black hair.
"So, what's for dinner tonight?" he said to himself. "Something good, hopefully..."
Unbeknownst to him, someone had been watching him closely ever since he arrived in Thornhelm. A shadow, hidden among the crowd.
---
Searching for the Black Table Tavern
As dusk turned to night, Rudra stepped out into the streets again.
"Time to find that man," he whispered. He remembered the name: Black Table Tavern.
Spotting a passerby, he asked,
"Excuse me, sir. Do you know the way to the Black Table Tavern?"
The man pointed, "Take the next left, then go straight for about 50 meters. You'll see it."
"Thanks." Rudra nodded—but as the man raised his hand, Rudra's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a strange tattoo on his forearm. It looked oddly familiar, like something buried in his memory. He hesitated for a second, then shook it off and continued walking.
"Weird... why does that mark feel familiar?" he wondered.
Moments later, he stood in front of the tavern—a low, stone building with a warped wooden sign dangling above the door.
---
Inside the Black Table Tavern
Rudra stepped inside and took a quiet seat in the corner.
A waiter approached.
"Good evening, sir. What would you like?"
"Just two packets of white paper," Rudra replied calmly.
The waiter raised an eyebrow, then nodded.
"Please wait here."
He climbed the stairs and entered a small office upstairs.
"Sir, someone just ordered two packets of white paper."
The tavern's manager, Elandro Varn, looked up from his desk. Once a notorious burglar, Elandro had left that life behind—or at least, partially. These days, he ran the tavern as a front and quietly served as an informant for the city's intelligence network. He worked with people like Rudra, Vice Commander Elden, and even Alex himself.
"What does he look like?" Elandro asked.
"Just a kid. Maybe thirteen."
Elandro sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Tch. Him again... Send him up."
---
Rudra Meets Elandro
Rudra climbed to the second floor and walked into the manager's dimly lit office.
"Hey, Elandro."
"Don't act cocky, brat," Elandro snapped. "We're not friends. Don't walk in here like you own the place."
Rudra smirked.
"Maybe I don't. But I know who really owns this place. Want me to inform the Commander?"
Elandro slammed his hand on the desk.
"Tch. You little bastard. Fine. What do you want?"
"Nothing big. Just want to know if you've heard anything about the disappearances around this region."
Elandro leaned back.
"Hmph. I've heard the rumors, but I didn't think it was serious enough to send a Shadow Soldier."
"Don't call me that," Rudra muttered. "We've known each other long enough—you can use my name."
"I don't consider you a friend, Rudra," Elandro said bluntly. "I'll call you what you are: a Shadow Soldier. That's the truth."
Rudra rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me what you know."
"Not much," Elandro admitted. "Only whispers. But give me some time—I'll dig."
"Alright. Send word when you have something." Rudra turned to leave.
As the door closed behind him, Elandro stood and muttered,
"Now, where should I start...?"
He called the waiter again.
"Gerran, you know what to do."
"Yes, sir." Gerran gave a firm nod and slipped out the back door.
---
Back at the Inn
Rudra returned to his inn, stretched, and laid down. The bed was softer than most he'd used in a while. He closed his eyes with a tired sigh—unaware that the same shadowy presence had followed him back.
Outside, in the alleys of Thornhelm, silent figures waited, watching, waiting for the right moment.