Chapter 38: The Mysterious Stranger
The stone walls of Aethon emerged from the morning mist in a silhouette of iron gray, rising so high they seemed ready to cleave the sky in two. The gate itself was an arched opening carved through the rock, its flanking surfaces polished to mirror-smoothness by some ancient magic, their faces overlaid with a thin, flowing layer of dark patterns that pulsed with a rhythm like breath. The air hummed with a low, resonant drone—the telltale signature of high-grade defensive enchantments woven into the very fabric of the stone.
Guards stood on either side of the arch, clad in deep gray leather armor whose plates bore the same breathing patterns etched into the city walls. They carried no visible weapons, their hands folded across their chests, their gazes fixed straight ahead with mechanical precision. Only when my shadow fell across the ground and overlapped with theirs did they simultaneously turn their heads toward me, the movement synchronized as if controlled by a single mind.
"Travel documents," the guard on the left said. His voice was soft, yet it pierced through the magical hum and drove directly into my ears with unsettling clarity.
I stopped walking and reached into my pocket, pulling out the compass Sevan had given me. I wasn't certain whether this could serve as any kind of passage token, but at this moment, trying my luck seemed better than standing empty-handed. The needle glowed faintly with blue light—it would brighten whenever I was heading in the right direction, a remarkably helpful feature for someone with my abysmal sense of orientation.
I extended the compass toward him. The guard glanced at it without reaching to take it from my hand.
"This is not a document."
I rummaged through my bag and produced Osric's sealed letter. The paper edges had become somewhat worn from being carried, but the red wax seal remained intact—I wouldn't break it until I reached the Sky City, though I desperately hoped these guards would recognize Osric's sigil.
"This was given to me by the Grand Magus," I said, holding it out with what I hoped was appropriate deference.
"This is also not a document." His tone hadn't changed by even a fraction, showing no sign of recognition whatsoever.
Finally, having exhausted my options, I pulled out my personal notebook. I flipped to a page containing a rough sketch of Aethon City, beside which I'd written: "Entering city on urgent business." I handed the notebook to him, and the guard finally extended his hand to accept it, turning through two pages before closing it and returning it to me with an expression of profound disinterest.
"We are not a pawnshop, miss."
I understood they weren't deliberately making things difficult—they were simply following protocol with the inflexibility of those who had done so a thousand times before. The other guard, noticing the delay, had already begun walking over to investigate the holdup.
"I don't have travel documents," I admitted, trying to inject as much pitiable desperation into my voice as possible. "I've come seeking medical treatment." The statement was half true, at least.
The guard offered no response and displayed no trace of sympathy, as though he'd encountered far too many people exactly like me standing in precisely this spot. He merely raised his hand and pointed toward a narrow side path adjacent to the main gate.
The path was blocked by a translucent stone panel carved with several characters that read: Outsider Interrogation Office.
The other guard approached and grasped my arm. I struggled against his grip with indignant resistance.
"Hey! I'm not some suspicious character. I'm—"
I fell silent the moment I noticed his hand had moved to rest on his sword hilt. Cooperation, I decided, would serve me better than defiance.
I followed the guard down the side path. The stone panel slid aside automatically as we approached, producing a faint grinding sound. The passage was so narrow only one person could walk through at a time, its walls lined with oil lamps that cast sickly yellow light across the rock surfaces, throwing elongated shadows that twisted and distorted like living things attempting to crawl free from their two-dimensional prison.
The interrogation room waited at the path's terminus. Its door was fashioned from a single piece of black stone, bearing no handle—only a narrow groove cut into its surface. The guard inserted a wooden token into the slot, and the door slid open without sound. The interior space was cramped, containing nothing but a table, two chairs, and a magical lamp hanging on the wall that emitted an even dimmer light than those outside, tinted with an oppressive reddish hue that made everything look slightly feverish.
The guard gestured toward one of the chairs. I sat. He positioned himself by the door without speaking, apparently waiting for something or someone.
"Everything I've said is true—I came here seeking medical treatment. I've heard Aethon has the finest physicians in the realm," I insisted, watching him carefully for any reaction. He remained unmoved, his face betraying nothing.
Several minutes passed before the door opened again. A man wearing gray robes entered, his face concealed behind a silver mask that featured only a single horizontal line representing eyes. He settled into the chair across from me and withdrew a ledger and pen from his sleeves with practiced efficiency.
"Name," he said. His voice, filtered through the mask, emerged distorted and muffled, as though transmitted from underwater depths.
Seeing that protest would accomplish nothing, I deflated and resigned myself to answering. "Mia."
"Origin."
Maintaining the composure I'd cultivated through years of court training, I offered a carefully edited version of the truth: "I've come from the Royal City. My mother has fallen gravely ill, and I need to obtain a particular herb to treat her condition. I've heard that Aethon City possesses this herb."
"The herb's name."
"Starbloom." I provided the name of a legendary medicinal plant I'd encountered in ancient texts, supposedly growing only in Aethon's deepest reaches.
"Your guarantor."
"I have none."
The horizontal line behind the mask shifted slightly, suggesting a frown. "Without a guarantor, you cannot enter the city."
"I understand," I said, "but I must enter regardless. I have something to offer in exchange."
I pulled a gold ingot from my pocket and placed it on the table between us.
"This is enough to support a family for an entire year."
The line behind the mask shifted again, this time suggesting amusement. "Miss, this is not a guarantee. Moreover, attempting to bribe an official constitutes a serious crime here." He didn't even glance at the gold—with a flick of his finger, the ingot tumbled to the floor and vanished from sight.
I froze in stunned disbelief. Generally speaking, most problems in this world could be solved with sufficient money, but I had clearly miscalculated this time.
"I... apologize, I didn't mean to offend. I truly came here seeking physicians and medicinal supplies. Please, I'm begging you to let me enter."
The line behind the mask went still. He regarded me in silence, as though weighing something in his mind. After several long seconds, he picked up his pen, wrote a few characters in his ledger, then closed it and stood.
"You cannot enter the city," he pronounced. "However, you may remain—in a cell."
He walked to the door and spoke briefly to the guard, who nodded and had already begun extracting rope from behind his back. I lurched to my feet, opening my mouth to mount one final defense.
At that precise moment, the door swung open.
A hooded man entered the room. His cloak was deep blue, embroidered with golden stars that seemed to shimmer and flicker as he moved, as though they possessed their own celestial light. He approached the masked official and spoke in a low voice I couldn't quite catch. The masked man's body went rigid, then he quickly bowed his head and murmured something in return.
The hooded figure didn't respond verbally—he simply raised one hand and pointed at me.
The masked official immediately turned to the guard and commanded: "Release her."
The guard hesitated, clearly unaccustomed to such abrupt reversals, but he didn't dare delay. He immediately opened a side door I hadn't noticed before. I stared at the hooded man, whose hood was drawn so low I couldn't make out his features—only his jawline was visible, its angles sharp and defined, radiating an authority that brooked no questioning.
I followed the guard through the side door as the stone panels in the path once again slid aside. I glanced back over my shoulder to find the hooded man still standing motionless in place, but now he raised his hand toward me in a deliberate gesture. His fingers traced a circle in the air, then pointed toward the sky above.
A sudden wave of vertigo crashed over me, as though something had detonated inside my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut against the sensation, and when I opened them again, he had vanished completely.