Dawn bled into full morning, painting Pearlstrand Boulevard in harsh, revealing light. Corvus stood amidst the polished opulence, transformed. Gone were the mud-caked rags; the "Raven's Wing" ensemble hugged his frame – the dark duster coat offering subtle armor, the reinforced trousers allowing silent movement. The aether-blades rested securely in a new sheath at his hip. Now, he drew only passing glances, a shadow accepted, if not welcomed, in the gleaming East.
His immediate business concluded, one task remained: reach the military harbor. The problem? He'd never been there and had no idea where it was. Carriage it is. He patted the coat pocket – four terren left. Should be enough... hopefully. Carriage fares in the East were a mystery to him.
He left the boulevard, heading further east towards the city's main gate, where transport congregated. Kaaraore offered three tiers of carriage travel:
The Courser: A single-horse, single-passenger gig for quick inner-city hops.
The Line Carriage: Larger, shared transport running fixed routes, cramming passengers together for economy.
The Hauler: Massive beasts with thick carapaces pulled these armored behemoths, designed for high-value or dangerous cargo, immune to the arrows that might fell a horse.
Corvus rubbed gritty eyes. The sleepless night dragged at him. Sleep in the carriage. Must sleep.
Reaching the Eastern Gate was like stepping into a fortified checkpoint. A massive arch framed heavy iron gates, currently shut. A smaller pedestrian gate stood open, flanked by half a dozen armored enforcers meticulously checking documents. Before this imposing barrier, a circular plaza hosted a line of waiting carriages.
Corvus scanned them and approached a sturdy Line Carriage hitched to two dozing bays. Their owner, face obscured by a bushy beard and shaded beneath a worn top hat, only his vivid green eyes visible, sat on a bench nearby.
"Caldith Hold?" Corvus asked, his voice rough.
The man chewed on something, eyeing Corvus's new gear. "Aye. Leaves on the hour. Got time to kill." His accent was thick, rustic.
An hour. Corvus stifled a groan. "Fare?"
"Ten crescents."
Wordlessly, Corvus handed over a terren. He received two dull copper crescents in return and climbed into the carriage's dim interior. It was a simple four-by-four wooden box with bench seats. He claimed the corner seat furthest from the door, pulling his sheathed blades onto his lap, arms crossed protectively over them. Within moments, the exhaustion won. He slipped into the half-sleep honed by years surviving the wilds – consciousness a thin veil, senses still pricked for danger. He registered the door creaking open, the shift in light and air as another passenger boarded. He felt the carriage lurch and sway as the horses finally moved off. He sensed the subtle displacement of air as a shadow leaned over him, a hand reaching towards the blades he guarded like a dragon's hoard.
His eyes snapped open. His hand shot out, clamping like a vise around the intruding wrist.
He found himself staring into the smirking face of a young woman leaning far too close. Crimson hair, wild and spiked, framed sharp features. A silver ring pierced her left eyebrow. She wore a practical sleeveless crop top revealing wiry muscle and loose, dark training pants tucked into sturdy boots. Amusement, not alarm, danced in her eyes.
"Nice reflexes," she drawled, effortlessly pulling her wrist free. She flopped onto the bench opposite, sprawling with an insolent lack of personal space, arms draped along the seatback.
Corvus scowled, the remnants of sleep replaced by irritation. "I was resting before Caldith. What possessed you?"
She dug a pinky finger into her ear, inspecting the result with casual distaste. "Got bored. Watching you snore wasn't exactly thrilling. So," she leaned forward conspiratorially, her smirk widening, "expedition?"
Corvus stiffened. "That's confidential. Supposedly."
She waved a dismissive hand. "Pfft. Who's here? The horses? You headed to Caldith for the view? Doubt it. Shithole's only good for one thing: staging suicide missions. So, you in?"
He glanced out the small window. Thalara was a smudge on the horizon; the vast, restless ocean stretched beside the coastal road. Caldith wasn't far. Reluctantly, he gave a single, curt nod.
Her eyes lit up with predatory interest. "Ha! Knew it. So... you fought the Captain? How'd you do?" She leaned even closer, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Corvus blinked. "Fought her? No. Why would I fight her?"
The girl tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "How else'd you know she was legit? Royals hire muscle, not messengers. Gotta test the goods."
"The royal seal. The fact that she was Kindled. More than enough proof," Corvus countered, his gaze flicking over her minimal gear. "Where are your weapons?"
She didn't hesitate. She simply raised her fists, knuckles showing faint, old scars, her expression utterly serious. "Right here."
Corvus stared. A cold dread pooled in his stomach, momentarily eclipsing his fatigue. Captain Cesara picked her? This wasn't just recklessness; it was lunacy. Trusting this... brawler... to watch his back in the unknown felt like trusting a lit fuse near gunpowder. He had severely overestimated his Captain's recruitment standards.
The carriage rounded a bend. Caldith Hold rose before them, a grim fist of grey stone slammed against the sheer cliffs. Immense walls, scarred by salt and time, encircled the headland. The colossal seaward gate, a lattice of blackened iron strung with chains thicker than a man's torso, was currently lowered, a dark maw swallowing the road. Figures moved atop the battlements – rifle barrels glinting in the sun, the hulking shapes of ballista turrets poised every fifty paces. This wasn't a town; it was a fortress engineered to defy the ocean's fury and any army foolish enough to assault it.
The final stop. The point of no return. Beyond those walls lay the expedition – a gamble promising either a swift death or a life unchained from poverty. But more urgently, beyond those walls lay answers. Why would the Crown fund a secret voyage beyond the forbidden Wall? Why hire outsiders – mercenaries, street rats, and apparently unarmed brawlers – for a mission Captain Cesara claimed held the kingdom's very existence in the balance?
What catastrophe looms over Kaaraore?