----Chapter 8----
The map was useless. Absolutely, completely useless.
I stopped dead in the middle of the street, staring at the crumpled parchment in my hand. It looked less like a guide and more like a fever dream drawn by a five-year-old.
Crooked lines, random circles, squares vaguely labeled "stuff," and half the words were just illegible scribbles. I had to squint and tilt it sideways just to guess.
Desil… your directions are a mess.
I grumbled under my breath, scratching at the back of my head.
My frustration was a physical thing, a knot in my stomach.
I lowered the paper, taking a moment to just look around. The street ahead was cobblestone, glinting under the midday sun.
The buildings here were packed tight, their white plaster walls reinforced with dark, sturdy timber.
Steep roofs, tiled with reddish clay, lined the street, and some of the houses even had small balconies overflowing with potted flowers.
Kids darted between the stalls, their laughter echoing as they chased each other.
Across the way, a baker was setting out trays of fresh bread, and the warm, yeasty scent drifted through the air, making my stomach rumble.
Beside him, a blacksmith hammered away at a glowing piece of metal, the rhythmic clang, clang, clang a steady heartbeat in the town square.
I sighed, shoving the useless map into my pocket. My eyes landed on a nearby building with a wooden sign shaped like a bed. An inn.
Good to remember that for later.
Just then, two men walked past. Adventurers, no doubt about it. One carried a longsword strapped to his waist, his stance radiating confidence.
The other leaned on a staff, robes hanging loosely around his shoulders. A healer, probably.
I hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and called out,
"Excuse me! Could I ask you for directions?"
The healer stopped and turned back, a friendly smile on his face.
"Sure thing! Where are you trying to go?"
Relief washed over me. I cleared my throat, feeling a little awkward, and held out Desil's… creation.
They both leaned in, studying the map with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
"Oh!" The swordsman burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! This has got to be Desil's work!"
The healer chuckled, nodding in agreement.
"Yep, no mistaking it. Only Desil makes maps like this."
I just stared at them, my face blank. I knew it. Something was definitely wrong with that map.
The swordsman wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling.
"Well, if you're trying to find the guild house, you're in luck. We're headed there ourselves."
The healer smiled. "I'm Runo, by the way. I'm a cleric."
"And I'm Tharen, a magic blader. Nice to meet you, kid," the swordsman said with a grin.
"I'm Hiroki," I replied, trying to sound a little less like a lost tourist.
"Just… a wanderer, I guess."
"Ah, I see. So you're looking to sign up as an adventurer, eh?" Runo asked, his tone warm and welcoming.
I nodded, falling into step with them as we started walking.
••••
We rounded the last bend, and there it was: the Guild House. The carved crest of crossed swords and a burning flame loomed over the square like a watchful sentry. But something was definitely off.
A crowd of people filled the square in front of the heavy oak doors: adventurers in dented armor, shopkeepers, a few city guards, and a knot of townsfolk murmuring like a disturbed beehive.
A guard stood in the center, one boot planted on the cobblestones like he owned the place. He had a rope in his hand and was dragging a small, shivering figure behind him. People made way, but no one intervened; they just watched with a morbid curiosity.
"What's going on?" I asked Runo, my voice barely above a whisper.
He spat on the ground, a look of disgust on his face.
"Looks like the guards caught another runaway. They always try to make it to the guild, hoping someone will take them in."
His voice was bitter, like he'd seen this play out too many times before.
One of the onlookers muttered,
"They think the guild will protect them, but the law's… complicated."
"It's a damn disgrace," Tharen growled, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
"Those slave merchants… if Hemlin lets them operate like this, he deserves worse than words. Those scumbags will feel the edge of my blade."
"You can't just go swinging your sword around," Runo said softly, glancing at Tharen with a worried expression.
"That'll only make things worse."
I watched as the guard dragged the child to the base of the guild steps and shoved him roughly, face down, into the harsh sunlight. The kid was small and covered in grime, his face streaked with blood and dirt.
Matted pink hair stuck to a cut on his forehead, and iron shackles clinked around his neck and wrists. His breath came in ragged gasps.
"Please," the child choked out, his voice cracking.
"Please… save my sister. She's sick. They left her… please, someone…"
The crowd reacted with a low, uneasy murmur. Some muttered words of sympathy, others just looked away. No one stepped forward.
My chest went cold.
He's a demi-human too, isn't he? Or at least, not fully human.
The ears, the hair… He didn't look dangerous; he looked like someone who'd been beaten down by the town's indifference.
I felt that familiar urge to jump in, to tear the chains off him and scream at the guards.
Do something.
But the hooded girl's warning echoed in my head. Crossing them was crossing Hemlin.
I took a deep breath, trying to think clearly.
Out of the corner of my eye, something flickered, a distortion at the edge of my vision.
My Eye of Deception was kicking in. I instinctively brought my fingers to my eyes, making that crude telescope gesture. The world shifted, colors bleeding into view.
The child's aura bloomed first: a thin, quivering green mixed with a pale, desperate blue.
Pure fear, raw and overwhelming. It curled inward, like he was trying to shield a deep wound.
The guards around the steps glowed a dull maroon – annoyance and hard-edged authority. Not immediate killing intent, but a heavy, institutional anger. They weren't here to show mercy.
Then, further back in the crowd, I spotted something that made my stomach clench. A pair of wealthy-looking merchants lingered near the edge, their cloaks embroidered with gold thread.
Around them shimmered faint specks of that same maroon, cold and calculating. They didn't move to help the child. They just watched, with that same unsettling indifference I'd seen in the alley.
So the power network is here too, huh? Not just in the shadows.
The guard shoved the child again.
"Move it. We've got orders. This one's going back to the merchant's hold." His voice was flat, rehearsed.
"Please," the pink-haired boy sobbed, his voice raw with desperation.
"My sister, she's sick! You have to help her! I'll do anything, just please…"
A woman at the edge of the crowd sniffled and looked away. Someone coughed awkwardly. The guild steps felt like a stage, and everyone was playing their assigned role.
Tharen's hand twitched towards his sword, a clear desire to make things right. Runo put a steadying hand on his arm.
"Not yet," he murmured, his eyes flicking towards the higher benches where a guild adjudicator sat sleeping with a tankard beside him.
I stepped forward, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
If no one else will, I have to try something, even if it's small. Gather proof. Find someone who can help.
The hooded girl's advice was a mantra in my head.
Find a guard with jurisdiction. Get evidence. Don't act without a plan.
I scanned the crowd, looking for someone with a badge, a different crest – someone official, not just the guards hauling slaves.
A clerk at the guild counter caught my eye. He had ink-stained fingers and seemed absorbed in a ledger, his expression disdainful.
"Who do we talk to?" I asked Runo quietly.
He followed my gaze, his face a mask of irritation.
"That's Matheus, the clerk. He handles first contacts. He can lodge an emergency petition, maybe, if you can get to him without causing a scene."
The idea of approaching a clerk while chains still rattled on the steps seemed almost absurd, but I nodded.
Matheus, then. Quietly. Evidence. Witnesses, if possible.
I threaded through the crowd, Runo and Tharen close behind. With every step, I kept an eye on the pink-haired boy, afraid the guards would drag him away before I could do anything.
As we neared the counter, one of the merchants, the one with the emblem I'd seen earlier caught my eye.
He met my stare with a smile that was so polite it felt like a threat. I felt the maroon aura around him tighten like a noose.
For a moment, I almost reached for my hand again, to form that telescope gesture, but I forced myself to remain small, unthreatening.
Matheus, the clerk, glanced up as we reached the counter. He wore a thin tabard with a small metallic badge pinned to it.
The symbol of the guild. He peered at my face, then at the ragged pamphlet in my hand.
"Name?" he asked, his voice bored and distracted.
"Desil sent me," I blurted out, then caught myself. "Hiroki. I… there's a child… please. He says his sister is sick, and they were captured." I kept my voice low.
Matheus's eyes flicked towards the steps and then away, duty warring with inconvenience. He rubbed his temple.
"We can log a petition. But if the merchant has a claim…" He shrugged, the shrug of someone who knew how the world worked.
"We have witnesses," an apprentice piped up from nearby, one of those kids who ran errands.
"He was dragged from the south market alley. I saw him stumble out."
Matheus's face hardened slightly. Paperwork and protocol were things I didn't understand, but I could sense a flicker of something. He pulled a ledger closer.
"Give me the names. Statements need to be signed. If the merchant has a legal claim…" He hesitated.
"Bring me proof of illegal captivity, and I'll put this on the adjudication docket immediately."
Proof. Right. Evidence. The hooded girl's words echoed in my mind.
I swallowed hard. "Where do we even get that?" I whispered.
Matheus tapped a pen against his lip, then, surprising me, nudged the ledger towards me.
"Start by lodging statements. Meanwhile, find someone to escort you back to where the merchant keeps his prisoners. A patrol leader can accompany you. If the merchant resists, do not confront him alone."
His tone was still that of a bored bureaucrat, but he'd moved. That was something.. a small crack in the wall.
As Runo began jotting down what he saw, Tharen looked ready to explode. The maroon auras near the merchants hadn't faded.
The law moved like molasses, but at least it moved. I felt a small, fierce relief that something, however slow, had been set in motion.
Outside, on the steps, the pink-haired boy's pleas were growing hoarse. The guard's rope tightened. I felt the weight of my decision, heavy and small at once.
Start with the little things, I reminded myself. Get statements. Find a patrol leader. Prove it.
The world here had walls and teeth. If I wanted to help, I had to use the rules, not just smash them. For now, that had to be enough.
And then Matheus froze, his eyes snapping towards the side entrance of the hall. He straightened abruptly and bowed his head slightly.
"Oh – sire, you're awake!"
••••
A lazy voice drifted out from the foyer. "Ugh… couldn't sleep with all that racket outside."
A man stepped out, stretching as if he'd just woken up from a nap. His cloak hung half-open, one boot was untied, and his hair was a mess. He carried himself with an air of bored indifference, not authority.
Runo leaned close, whispering urgently,
"That's him. Vories Alzwraithe. The guild master."
I raised my fingers instinctively, activating the Eye of Deception. Colors bled across the crowd: greens of fear, yellows of caution, maroons of simmering anger.
But Vories…
Nothing.
No color. No shimmer. No aura at all. Just like Nicaea.
For a moment, his eyes shifted lazily across the crowd and landed on me. Our gazes locked.
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. He looked straight at my narrowed fingers, at the telescope gesture I'd made.
His lips tugged into the faintest, most knowing smirk, like he could see exactly what I was doing, even though he shouldn't have been able to.
Did he notice? Could he tell what I was doing?
Then his eyes moved away, as if I were nothing more than dust in the street.
••••
The pink-haired boy's eyes widened, a spark of hope igniting within them.
"Guild master! Please! Help me! My sister… she'll die if no one helps her!"
The guard sneered and yanked hard on the chain. The boy gagged, collapsing as the iron cut deeper into his neck.
The sound of straining metal cracked through the silence.
In less than a heartbeat, Vories vanished from the top step. One moment, he was standing there, stretching and looking bored; the next, he was gripping the guard's arm.
The crunch of breaking bone echoed through the square.
The soldier screamed as his arm bent at an impossible angle, his steel gauntlet crumpling under Vories' grip like it was made of paper.
The entire square froze. Nobles paled. Adventurers stared, wide-eyed with shock.
Vories' voice was calm, almost conversational, but it dripped with venom.
"You actually dared to do that in front of me… how bold of you."
The guard howled, collapsing to the ground as his weapon clattered away. The other soldiers instantly drew their blades, surrounding Vories and the pink-haired boy.
The guild master exhaled slowly, his eyes half-lidded.
"So… you want to fight? Go ahead. Try me. I'm already in a bad mood."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire.
One of the nobles, his face red with fury, sneered,
"Do you realize who you've just attacked? Your pathetic little guild will pay for this!"
But Vories didn't even glance at him. His eyes, sharp and cold, remained fixed on the trembling guards.
I stood frozen at the edge of the crowd, my breath caught in my throat.
No aura. No presence I could read. Yet, in a single, swift movement, he had upended the entire order of the square.
And when his gaze flicked back to me, just for a moment, I felt a chill run down my spine.
He knew.