The wheels of the train hissed, and Argentum City slowly came into view.
Quinlan, leaning on the wooden frame, peered outside the window and marveled at the buildings of the great city.
They were strong and complicated, having metal-rung ladders hanging off the sidewalls, arcane coils buzzing along gutters, bricks stabbed with pipes that spat bursts of white steam into the air. Signs glowed with rune-ink that pulsed in cycles, some flickering due to old age.
Guards in dark-blue uniforms marched along rails of fire-lit stone.
'Look at this place.' Quinlan thought.
The train jolted slightly as it slowed down for the waypoint. Interrupted by the jolt, Quinlan's gaze shifted, and then froze.
His eyes had caught—and stopped—at a peculiar looking girl.
She sat some distance away to his right on the bench opposite him, straight-backed, spine perfectly aligned, her gloved hands resting lightly in her lap.
Her clothing consisted of a fitted ensemble of expensive leather material in white, blue, and black tones. One hand was sleeved and the other wasn't, while her skirt, sewn in white and blue locks dangled as she idly swung her leg that she had draped over the other.
She had hair like split silk—one side dark as ink, the other silver as moonlight—each cascading past her shoulders without a strand out of place.
Then her eyes. Quinlan had never seen eyes like those before.
They were heterochromatic. The right one was silver, and the left was dark grey. Because of this, Quinlan couldn't stop looking at her, staring at how unnatural she seemed.
She didn't fidget. She didn't glance around like the others. She just stared ahead, hands folded, unbothered by the world around her.
When Quinlan realized he'd been looking too long, it was too late. Her eyes shifted.
And landed on him.
His heart snapped once against his ribs and he jolted, turning his head so fast he might've looked suspicious. Shit. Shit.
The last thing he wanted was to be accused of gawking at some highborn town girl.
However, when he looked in her direction again, she was looking the other way, seemingly not caring at all.
The train came to a full stop at the Argentum waypoint, and she was the very first to stand up.
When the conductor pulled the doors open, she stepped down from the vehicle. Several others followed suit, but only one Forsaken rose from his seat.
Quinlan.
He adjusted the worn strap of his coat, and slowly walked down the center while everyone stared at him.
Once he stepped out, many more were staring. Townfolk standing along the stone platform turned, their conversations pausing, eyes narrowing.
Their question didn't need to be asked. It was on every face.
Why would a Forsaken be in Argentum City?
He tried to ignore it, keeping his feet planted measured as he scanned the city before him. Only then did it hit him; he had no idea where the Citadel was. And judging by the looks he was getting, asking for directions wasn't an option.
He thought of the silver-haired girl.
The way she was dressed. She was definitely either a Hunter or an aspirant. Which meant she was most likely headed to the Citadel.
Quinlan spotted her figure already far ahead, walking with sharp, decisive steps.
He swallowed determinedly and followed at a distance.
Soon, Quinlan was deep into the streets of Argentum City.
The morning was very cold, there was no wind but the air carried chill. Everywhere was filled with tall structures of different designs. Steam carts rattled over iron tiles. Giant crank-wheels spun in alleys, pulling chains that ran down to basements.
On some corners stood posts glowing with shifting runes that blinked slowly— symbols for directions, laws, times. Stone bridges arched over other streets, connecting towers like tightropes.
People moved in lanes, orderly but fast.
Quinlan was thoroughly overwhelmed by it all, but he couldn't allow himself to stare. He had to keep up with the girl, hoping that she was actually taking him to the Citadel not to a shady store.
She never looked back, but after a time, he noticed that she was starting to get suspicious.
Each time she turned sharply down a different street, she paused for just a breath. Then she would glance over her shoulder and Quinlan would quickly take cover.
The third time, she stopped completely at an intersection of three curved walkways.
Quinlan quickly ducked into the shadow of a rusted boiler tower. He peeked out.
She was gone.
'Huh?' His pulse stuttered. If he lost sight of her, he'd certainly be lost in this place. He looked left and right but couldn't find her.
"Are you following me?"
Quinlan yelped, spinning and stumbling backwards.
Somehow, the girl was right behind him, hands placed on her hips and an accusing expression on her face.
Her voice, when she had spoken, was sharp and direct, one that fitted her matter-of-fact demeanor.
"You," she repeated, drawing her face closer, "I asked you a question. Are you following me?"
Knowing he was caught, Quinlan raised his hands slowly. "Yes. Yes, I was. But I'm not trying anything, alright? I'm really sorry, miss. I just didn't know the way to the Citadel. You looked like you were heading there, so I followed. That's all."
She narrowed her dual-colored eyes. "You're lying."
Quinlan choked. "I'm not."
"What would a dryhead want in the Citadel?"
He looked away, shoulders tight. "Well, I want to register, miss."
"To register?" Her jaw clenched, her skepticism flashing into outright disbelief. "Now I know for sure that you're lying!"
"I'm really not! I've absorbed a Beast Node," Quinlan added quickly.
She paused. "You?"
"Yes. I was told to go to the Drakenhold Citadel in Argentum City."
She stood straight, crossing her arms. "Forsakens don't have money to buy Nodes. And they're nowhere strong enough to kill beasts. So unless you stole it—"
"I didn't steal anything," Quinlan snapped, then forced his voice lower. "I swear it."
She studied him for a long, silent moment. "What beast?"
Quinlan hesitated, gaping at her. If he told her told her the truth, she would never believe him and that would only make matters worse.
"It was a Lesser Orc," he said finally. "That's it. I swear."
Her dual-colored eyes held his, weighing his truth. Finally, she exhaled, her defensive posture easing a fraction. "Fine then. I suppose there's a slight chance that you could have killed a Lesser Orc. But even then, it should have been extremely weakened."
She walked past him. "All you'll get is enhanced strength and a good nose," she said, tone flat. "That's barely useful."
Quinlan chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck. "It's no problem, miss. As long as it gets me a license so I can make some money."
She gave him a side glance and sighed. "Hopeless." Without another word, she turned to the road ahead. "Try to keep up."
"…Thanks, miss." Quinlan mumbled, falling into step behind her.
He watched her walk. Her posture was so confident, her stride silent. The way her hair shifted, the way her skirt swayed. Elegant. That was the word she reminded him about.
To ease the awkward tension in the air, he attempted to start a conversation.
"So…" he cleared his throat, "what about you? What Node do you have?"
She took her time answering. When she did, it was short.
"You'll find out during the registration."
Quinlan looked away. 'Good talk.'
—---—
After a path conspicuously empty of buildings, the Drakenhold Citadel loomed ahead.
The Citadel was the only structure in the surrounding area, making it visible from a distance. It was planted into a massive lifted platform, and had black stone walls trimmed in silver filigree.
Enchanted braziers floated in suspension along its stairways, reinforced pillars climbed into the sky, and steam vents hissed near the entrance where metal tracks coiled beneath the stairs.
At the center of the imposing building was a circle with the insignia of Drakenhold engraved into its surface: a shield with a sword and a spear crossed before it.
Quinlan stared at the building, watching it get bigger the closer he got. It was the most terrifying structure he'd ever seen.
"Stop the murder of divine beasts!"
He snapped his head to the left of the building where he saw a crowd of protesters gathered.
"Hunter licenses are marks of slavery!" They shouted, waving black-and-red scrolls in the air. "Murderers! You're all murderers!"
Guards in blue-plated uniforms held them back with shields and extendable spears, shoving them away from the gated path. The silver-haired girl didn't grant them a single glance. Quinlan followed closely as she moved through the barricade reserved for registrants.
Once she got the door, the guards stepped aside for her without hesitation. But when it was Quinlan's turn, one of them stepped into his path.
"You lost, boy?" the guard sneered. "This isn't a food line."
Quinlan shook his head. "No no. I'm here to register."
The second guard barked a laugh. "You're joking."
"I'm not. I absorbed a Node recently and I was told to come here."
The girl, already inside, paused. She looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with Quinlan who was still trying to get through. She sighed and retraced her steps.
She placed a hand on the first guard's shoulder pauldron. "He's telling the truth. He absorbed a Node. It might be a useless one, but its still a Node. He's a Soul Tamer now and has the right to register."
"He's with you?" the first guard asked.
"He's not," she said with narrowed eyes, "but like I said, he's telling the truth."
The guards exchanged a look. "Alright, Miss Avenhart," the second one conceded, then turned back to Quinlan with a mocking grin. "So a Forsaken actually absorbed a Node, huh. What plans do you have now, kid? To be the first ever dryhead Hunter?".
They chuckled between themselves. "Good one."
Then they lowered their weapons. "Just don't cause trouble."
Quinlan gave two of them cold glances before going through. "Thank you."
By the door, he delivered his name to a surprised warden, then stepped into the Citadel fully.
Inside, he saw the girl turning to leave. "You too," he called after her. "Thank you."
She stopped, turning to regard him one last time. "This is the last time we speak," she finally said. "Goodbye."
Then, as Quinlan watched, she vanished into the noisy, growing crowd inside the Citadel.
He looked away once he could no longer see her, and studied his surroundings.
He was in a hall, vast and lluminated by crystals glowing above. The walls were decorated with banners bearing the sigil of Drakenhold. Hundreds of aspirants stood in disorganized lines, dressed in everything from noble silk to hunter-grade leathers.
Quinlan felt acutely underdressed. Even more, he felt completely out of place. He was the only Forsaken here, everyone else was either townfolk or nobility.
Suddenly, the noise all bled away.
A man had taken the stage. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, weathered skin. He wore a white suit trimmed in blue, with a golden armor plate over his right shoulder, bearing the Drakenhold crest.
"Aspirants!" his voice boomed. "My name is Nathanion Kane, and I am the Assistant Lord of Drakenhold. Today marks our 80th Annual Hunter Registration Programme. Which is why you all stand here today.
"You are here because you believe you have what it takes to walk the path of a Hunter. But Drakenhold does not bestow that honor lightly."
His gaze swept over them.
"I will not bore you with long speeches."
He turned to the side, where a pedestal stood. A crystalline orb swirling with mist and veins of light, shimmered atop it.
"The Orb of Revelation," he said. "It will show us what Beast slumbers inside you."
He stepped back, his expression granite.
"When your name is called, step forward. Place your hand on the Orb. Your beast will reveal itself to the world. And your future will begin."
Quinlan's chest tightened. The other aspirants sizzled with excitement while guild representatives prepared themselves.
Lord Nathanion thundered the first name,
"Abyssa Heartwill!"