The man guided them along a suspended corridor, a metal catwalk whose railing overlooked the main atrium. The chaos continued below, but from that height, the sound was a muffled murmur, and the hurried sentinels looked like ants in an overturned anthill. The view created a surreal distance, as if they were observing the disaster through an invisible barrier that separated them from the urgency and fear. The metal of the catwalk vibrated slightly under their boots, a phantom echo of the panic unfolding below.
"My name is Briggs," the man said, without breaking stride, his back straight as a ruler, his step firm with the confidence of one who admitted no hesitation. "Captain of the Sentinels of the Order, in charge of this garrison in Chisanatora."
"Gunder. And this is Tom," Gunder replied for both of them, his voice perfectly neutral, devoid of any inflection. "We are Heralds of the Order."
Briggs gave a slight nod, a minimal gesture. "I figured as much. No ranking sentinel would show up at my barracks out of uniform." The observation carried a subtle criticism, and Tom felt her face heat up, exchanging an embarrassed glance with Gunder, who remained impassive, as if formality were an irrelevant concept. "Where are you from?"
"Faraam," Tom answered, her voice firmer than she felt.
"From so far…" Briggs sighed, and the sound was laden with a weariness that seemed to go beyond the physical, an exhaustion that seeped into the soul. "The case we have here has scared many away. In the last few weeks, I've seen experienced sentinels and other Heralds like you retreat. To be honest," he paused, the echo of his footsteps filling the silence, "I was beginning to think the Order had abandoned us."
His words hung in the cold air, and Tom's mind connected the dots with the speed of a lightning flash. "That's why the knights from the capital are here," she murmured, more a realization than a question.
"The Black Steel Blades arrived last week," Briggs confirmed, the squad's name sounding as heavy and merciless as the metal it described. "It seems the problem with the ducts is disrupting the trade of the great barons. Their complaints reached the ears of the old aristocrats in the capital, and when their money is at stake, the response is always disproportionate."
"You said 'abandoned'," Gunder interrupted, his voice cutting through Briggs's speech with the precision of a scalpel. "What exactly did you mean by that?"
Briggs stopped walking. The sound of his footsteps ceased abruptly. He turned his head slowly, just enough for them to see his eyes. The distant seriousness from before had vanished, replaced by a frightening emptiness, an abyss of exhaustion and loss. "Many of my sentinels have died in the last few days," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, which made it all the more chilling. "And all the Heralds who came before you. All of them dead trying to solve this case."
Gunder let out a soft, "Ehh…" a sound of pure disdain that dripped mockery on the gravity of the situation. In contrast, Tom swallowed hard, feeling a drop of cold sweat trickle down her neck. The danger was more real and more lethal than she had imagined. But beneath the fear that chilled her blood, a stubborn flame of determination ignited. A case this dangerous… perhaps it truly was a sign, an undeniable clue that would lead her to the Crown of Celeste.
Briggs resumed his walk. "I really didn't expect anyone else to come. It's been days since any other Sentinel headquarters has answered our calls. But," he glanced at them, an analytical gleam in his gray eyes, "I also didn't expect a kid and a mysterious man to show up out of nowhere. Either you didn't know the danger, or you're fools." Suddenly, he stopped again, as if struck by a memory. "Kid, you said you had your own business here, didn't you?"
Remembering Vernh's mocking laughter, Tom felt her face flush again, but she forced herself to maintain her composure, lifting her chin. "I'm looking for the Crown of Celeste."
Briggs placed a hand on his chin, thoughtful, his gaze skeptical. "The Crown of Celeste… I didn't expect a Herald's reason for coming to the epicenter of a crisis to be a children's legend."
Tom looked away, shame burning on her face, and opened her mouth to try to explain, but Briggs cut her off.
"But…" he continued, his tone shifting, acquiring a resonant quality, as if reciting an ancient story, "the Epic of the Fall says that in the past, when the gods warred among themselves, the God of War forged the crown for the Goddess of the Moon. And the place where he forged it was 'a city that inhabited the colossal fissures of a scorching desert, forgotten for eons'."
Tom's eyes widened. The air seemed to get caught in her lungs. "Here? It happened here in Chisanatora?"
"They're just tales passed down through generations," Briggs said with a shrug, breaking the spell. "But theories suggest that yes. That Chisanatora was built upon the ruins of that legendary city."
A radiant, uncontrollable smile spread across Tom's face. Hope, pure and overwhelming, flooded her chest, a warm wave that completely extinguished the fear from moments ago. It was real. It was possible.
"Why tell him that?" Gunder's voice sounded, cold as steel, shattering Tom's moment of euphoria. "You don't believe those words yourself. It's just a children's tale."
Briggs turned completely, his eyes locking with Gunder's. For an instant, the air grew heavy, a silent clash of perceptions. The Captain seemed to understand that the man before him was no simple mercenary; he had realized that Gunder could read beneath the surface, could sense the depths of his being. "Because I felt pity," Briggs finally replied, his voice low and sharp.
Gunder arched an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his gaze.
"I don't know if this kid will be alive by this afternoon," Briggs continued, the empty look returning, stripped of all compassion. "That's all. I felt pity."
Tom's smile vanished, her face setting into a mask of seriousness and defiance. She met the Captain's gaze, the fire in her eyes shining with a fierce intensity. "I didn't come this far just to die here."
Briggs stared back at her and, for an instant, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It wasn't one of humor, but of respect. "Come," he said, turning away. "I'll go over the reports we have on the case."
◇ ◇ ◇
Back in the plaza, the cold, oppressive air of the barracks was exchanged for the vibrant symphony of the upper city. The sound of lively conversations, the hum of holographic panels, and the sweet aroma of spices from luxurious restaurants filled the air, painting a picture of prosperity and life. But for Tom and Gunder, the golden facade now seemed as thin as paper, ready to tear and reveal the rot underneath.
Gunder walked with a weary look, watching Tom, who paced in circles ahead of him, a hand on her chin and her eyes fixed on the ground, lost in the labyrinth of information they had received.
"People have disappeared, and ducts have exploded…" she muttered to herself, her voice a frustrated whisper. "Sentinels and Heralds have died, and mysterious figures in bluish cloaks have been seen… None of it makes sense."
She stopped and looked up, observing the crowd that flowed through the wide avenues like a river of hopes and worries. They were smiling faces, families on a stroll, merchants closing deals. A perfectly choreographed illusion of peace. Captain Briggs's words, spoken in the dimness of his office, echoed in her mind: "Chisanatora is called the City of Commerce, but that's just an old name. Today, it's more like the City of Misfortune…"
Observing more closely, Tom noticed something she had seen before, but which now seemed to carry a different, darker weight. The people up here… many were the same as the ones from down below. Not just the uniformed workers, but the citizens themselves. While there were high-class figures in impeccable attire, they were the minority, islands of opulence in a sea of tired faces trying to keep up appearances with simpler, yet clean, clothes.
Her gaze rose, past the shining shop windows and hanging gardens, to the colossal residential structures that loomed over the commercial district. Towers of polished metal and dark glass, like needles piercing the sky, which were supposed to house the city's elite.
"Gunder," she called out, her voice tense, pointing upward. "What do you see?"
Gunder drew closer, his feline eyes narrowed, focusing on something beyond the architecture. "Empty residences," he said, his voice low and final. "The commercial areas are full, but the floors meant for housing… they're almost all empty. It's practically a ghost town up there, until…"
"…the city's apex," Tom completed, feeling a chill. Gunder confirmed with a nod. There, at the unreachable peak, lived the barons of Chisanatora, the true owners of that golden cage.
"Don't you think there's a political crisis here?" Tom asked, her mind buzzing with the new perspective, the pieces starting to fit together. "Something to do with the economy?"
"Could be," Gunder admitted. "From what Briggs mentioned, the Sentinels believe the duct implosions were a protest against the barons. Apparently, the prices in the upper city have become so absurd that people are being forced to move to the lower city, even though they have to come up every day to work here. But…" he paused, his gaze becoming distant, "that doesn't explain the men in the bluish cloaks."
"Maybe they're just revolutionary groups from the city," Tom suggested, the theory sounding plausible in her own head.
"Maybe," Gunder retorted, his tone doubtful, "but I don't think that's the case."
"Why?" she asked, her curiosity overcoming her frustration.
Gunder looked at the crowd, but his gaze seemed to pass through them, sensing the invisible currents that bound them, something Tom couldn't see. "Because I don't feel friction between these people. They don't hate each other."
Tom's eyes widened, surprised by the strange certainty in his voice.
"A political crisis like this wouldn't happen if the people weren't dissatisfied with the local government," Gunder continued, his perception sounding like an irrefutable fact. "And I don't sense that dissatisfaction. I sense weariness, resignation… but not hatred."
Tom sighed, her theory crumbling before her partner's strange and infallible ability. "Well, it's no use just standing here thinking about it."
"So, what's the next step?" Gunder asked, crossing his arms, pragmatism taking over. "Are we going to investigate the ducts in the lower city, or try our luck at the city's apex?"
Tom's eyes instantly lit up at the second option. The apex! The place where the barons lived, where secrets might be kept. The place closest to the heavens, where a legendary crown might be hidden. Excitement took hold of her, an eager, dreamy smile forming on her lips.
Gunder just watched her expression for a second before cutting through her fantasy with a perfectly monotone voice.
"Right. You're going to the ducts."
He turned and started walking, considering the matter closed.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Tom shouted, running after him, her dream shattered and her excitement replaced by pure indignation. "I didn't decide anything!"