CHAPTER 15: The Shrouded Woman - Part 2
He did not carry anything that could cause problems. Arcanzite was just cheap jewelry – Lorn had never had issues with it. Core, to those unaware, even to Varne himself, was just an ordinary glass ball. Dorian's knife was too short to arise concern, and his amount of money was within reason.
The only item that could cause trouble was the thumb-sized Lorith. For this, he followed Ryse's advice and hid it inside a loaf of bread.
As the one who gave the advice, Ryse faced problems himself. His whip, crafted from monster parts, was considered a rare item. He once mentioned its segments were made from sea monster scales, and the wire backbone came from another monster's sinew.
In the end, Ryse had to pay a large bribe to keep his whip.
“Drat. That officer had me in his sight from the start,” Ryse said as they exited the inspection post through a different door. The civilian harbor with its stalls stretched out before them.
“Well, take care. I hope you find what you're looking for. Wish me luck too. If I succeed, we can catch up again. If I fail, this will be our last meeting.” One corner of Ryse's mouth tugged at his cheek.
“I hope you fail.”
Ryse chuckled and walked away, waving his hand over his shoulder. He then disappeared into the labyrinth of harbor stalls.
The civilian harbor had few buyers and sellers. Most of its stalls were closed, while those open sold the previous day's catch. Varne left it all behind. The foul smell fueled his restlessness like a whip to a horse.
The three ascending paths up the cliff toward the city were each flanked by guard towers. As he climbed one of them, the gaze of the guards under the tower’s roof followed him. Rows of arrowheads beside the guards glinted in the shadows.
He was welcomed by a gatehouse with a lifted portcullis. There were no further inspections and he could directly enter the city. Except for the southern part, high cliffs served as the city's defensive walls. The city's boundaries, following cliff's contours, were reflected in its asymmetric streets and layout.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
After asking the city guards, he headed straight for the travel bureau. This office was scant of visitors as well. “Give me a ticket to Orfia,” Varne said at the desk.
The young adult male at the desk responded, “You must be from the ship that just docked. Ever since King Ordofel came to negotiate with the Arvane representatives at the northern fortress, all entrances and exits have been closed. The residents are also prohibited from going out to sea.”
“How long? I need to get to Orfia.” Varne clenched his fists on the table.
“No one knows. Only those with special permission or Guild membership are allowed to come and go.”
“Guild? Can I join one?”
“The process is slow and complicated. The city gates will open before you obtain membership. Just enjoy the city. The palace cooks brought many provisions to entertain the Arvanian envoys. We in the city also get to enjoy some rare ingredients.”
“I don't care. I HAVE TO get to Orfia!”
The young male recoiled from his slam on the table, but he was not impressed. He then leaned forward across the desk, inviting Varne to do the same.
“In fact,” he half-whispered, “there is one way. No one has ever succeeded. But seeing your determination, you just might.”
“What way?” Varne glanced at the other visitors.
“In the southwest of the city, there's a Fideris Solti temple. Tell the clerk you want to pray, and she will take you to a special chamber.”
“And?”
“There's a statue of the Founding Exarch and Azarion. Kneel before them.”
“Then?”
“Pray. Ask for wings to leave this place.”
Varne left the travel bureau, slamming the door behind him, though the action did little to stifle the laughter of the young male and other visitors.
“Young Master! Kindly wait!” Someone stopped him in the street. It was the middle-aged man from the office earlier, his thinning chestnut hair fluttering in the wind.
“A thousand apologies.” He greeted in an inappropriately formal manner. “As Young Master is aware, I, Toril, happened to become privy to your vexation. Numerous individuals have encountered a comparable predicament, arriving by sea without knowledge of the city's closure.”
“Can you get me out?”
“You are indeed sagacious! There exists a clandestine egress from the city. It is my duty to assist individuals such as yourself.”
Varne handed over twenty bronze coins.
“As its name implies, this pathway is privy to my exclusive knowledge.”
He added ten more coins. Toril's request was too expensive, but he needed to get to Orfia as soon as possible, or he would lose track of Margivaz.
“As Young Master can see, I am of diminutive stature and require a substantial sustenance.”
Varne clicked his tongue and dropped ten more coins into Toril's outstretched hands. He grinned as if his mouth might tear at the edges.
“Indeed, Young Master displays a commendable generosity and discerning comprehension.” He bowed while slipping the money into his pocket.
That night, Varne met him at the agreed place. Toril held a torch in his left hand while his right hand fumbled among the reeds. Then, with one hand, he opened the thick cover block of a sewer. So much for needing substantial sustenance.
“Young Master, this way if you please.” The sharp edges of Toril's grin almost pierced his own ears.
