“Gipuzk. There it is.” The old man said. With much less enthusiasm than I’d expected.

But of course! I knew the reason it seemed familiar. We’d been to a place just like this one very recently. Passing by or through even more of the same on our way here. Palladia, Argenteus, Rhodentum. The same material. The same structure.

Who would’ve guessed that there existed an even higher level of architectural grandeur!

This place was ridiculous. Just... pure madness. I don’t know who, but someone must have just said: “Let’s build a massive wall between those mountains!” And then they did.

They took that task more than literally. It was the kind of place that made you wonder if human society as a whole had been a mistake. A labyrinthine overcompensation. The resources, time and effort this must’ve cost! All the human lives, oh no! All the money. Just buildings upon buildings upon buildings, stacked on top of each other like a game of Jenga gone wild. Reaching outward, upward, inward – you name it. I chuckled at the thought of folks constantly taking stairs or hopping on one of those elevator things just to get from one street to another. Like a never-ending workout routine. Just thinking about it made my legs hurt already.

I wasn’t even sure where the thing ended horizontally, to be honest. It looked like it went much further into the mountains as well. But unlike the rest of the Juskarrian money sinks, this one actually had a gate.

You heard it right, ladies and gentlemen. We wouldn’t be rising in but riding in. At least for a while, I hoped. How far we actually had to traverse inside I didn’t know. But I was praying that there would be as little elevation as possible.

“Urs said he hates this city, what’s up with that?”

“Well... It’s not really a place for straightforward people like him. So that’s plausible.” Vrintas said, his eyes drifting over the walls of the wall-city.

Hmm. I suppose with a place that size, in a medieval-esque world, there must be some form of underhanded play going on. As cliché as it sounds, it made sense. Intrigue and scheming have always been a part of human nature.

“Can’t be that bad though.”

“´In the shadows of Gipuzk, whispers weave the plot´ is a saying you’ll come across whenever the city’s mentioned. I’m no good at intrigue myself, but I’m not blind to it either.”

He chuckled, then let out a long sigh.

“No longer, anyway.”

“I don’t mind a bit of conspiracy. If it helps you get what you want quicker, why not?” I said.

Vrintas stared at me with open eyes. As if I’d just cited the goddamn akashic records or something. Then he let out an overdramatic laugh.

“You didn’t strike me as a schemer! A conniving dragon! Lovely. What else could one need?”

“Good morning, good morning, good morning!” Rheka rose from her nap bellowing. So much motivation this late in the evening. With that amount of energy, you could almost think that she was actually the dragon here. And I the seven-year-old girl.

“Up late, aren’t we?” Vrintas reached over to ruffle through Rheka’s hair. Not even that could rein her in.

“Yes! Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

“Almost my child, just a little-”

“What! Is! That?!” She shouted over the old man. Finally, she’d noticed.

“The capital. And calm it down a bit. Before we get carried away again.” I said.

I didn’t want a repeat of Rhodentum all over. Causing too big a commotion would likely come back to bite us later. But apart from Rheka... Well.

So, I’m a dragon, what gives? I’m sure people have better things to do than make a fuss about it. Was my copious thought process. Of course, I was in denial. Something somewhere was going to go dead wrong. It always does. But we’d cross that bridge when we’d get to it.

As we got closer, Gipuzk - that looming monstrosity of a construct, grew larger and larger. To my surprise it looked as if it’d been rebuilt in part not too long ago. I was no expert on architecture, but even a plebe such as myself could tell building materials apart from each other. I was also not colorblind. And those were two differently colored bricks. Some were missing too. As if a giant meteor had hit the gatehouse and they'd rushed to scramble it back together after. Funnily enough, the rest of the structure still screamed impenetrable. Even as we went through it.

Whatever ended up slamming through there – damn – I'd rather not know.

Much to my dismay, I wasn’t spared the elevation. We were going up a slope. It was only a slight angle, but enough to make me feel a tingle.

Stolen story; please report.

And then came another gatehouse. And then – another. And another. And another after that. All of them looked unique in their own way. There were certainly no fixed patterns of architecture here, that much was clear. At some point we’d passed through so many bloody gates I’d stopped counting. We were quite a ways up. Not at the top, but certainly close. Just. End my suffering. Who needed this many gates? My brother in construction, what in hell are you defending?

We’d reached a plaza of some sort. A large open public space, almost uncharacteristic for this multileveled mess of a construct. The usual spiel could be seen as I looked around. People browsing an endless array of stores in hopes of finding something worth their money. And merchants making sure said people would exit those very stores with no money left at all. As always.

But then my eyes glanced over something I hadn’t seen before. Not in this world at least. Or ever, really. And I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, as everyone else on the carriage beside the old man and Zilra shared the same expression.

Smackdab in the middle of the plaza I saw people, or rather what was left of them. Attached to something. Something in the shape of a “Y”. A cross for the lack of a better word. These people were crucified. And not only that. A simple crucifixion would have been kindness in contrast to what these fellas had probably gone through! They were black. Like charcoal. Burned for who knows how long. And their limbs were... unrecognizable. Flayed, drawn-out and spread over the edges of the crossarms. What made me chuckle though, was the work that had gone into the crosses themselves. They were carved elaborately to resemble a pair of wings. With such endless detail. Just for some poor chap to get nailed onto. A true waste of labor. Anyway. I assumed crucifixion to be as common here as it was in my old world, back in the good ol’ days - if you catch my drift. It was a rather convenient form of execution.

Minus the burning...

...and the flaying.

“Seems like not much has changed since the last time I’ve been here.” Visla said, finally breaking our awkward staring contest.

Urs just shook his head in silence.

“What’s up with the coaled corpses?” I asked in an overtly innocent tone.

“Rathan, I assume. They’ve always been everyone’s scapegoats. Always will be.”

Vrintas said, nonchalant as could be.

“It’s their own fault! They’re fighting us! We just strike them down.”

Zilra added with her arms crossed, looking everywhere else but at the crucified corpses.

“These guys don’t look like they’re putting up much of a fight, to be honest.” I replied.

“Tss. Yeah, not anymore? If they’d known their place, they’d probably still be alive.” She brushed off some ash that had landed on her shoulder.

“Okay.” I said.

“It’s not okay. They’re deviants and they’re traitors! We’ve given them plenty of chances to adapt and integrate, but they’ve refused all our kind offers. So now-”

“Quiet girl. I’ll hear nothing more of it.” Vrintas interrupted her, as sharp as he could be. A mad Vrintas was always a rare sight to behold.

“But they’re the ones who-!”

“I said. Quiet. Or you can walk to the keep.”

She gave Vrintas the iconic Zilra-Death-Stare in response. He on the other hand hadn’t spared her a single glance during their exchange.

I still didn’t quite see through all this Rathan-business. First the people in chains in Rhodentum, now the people on pseudo-crosses. Seems like they weren’t too popular of a folk. For whatever reason. Well, alas, it’s not my place to dabble into that.

It didn’t take much longer for us to reach what I assumed was the King’s palace. By then we were quite a way further up. Compared to the rest of the city complex this place looked rather tame. Smooth white bricks with red-tiled roofs gave the palace an almost generically Asian-looking appearance. Imagine a simple Japanese castle. Though it wasn’t quite a singular building but rather a collection of multiple thick towers fused within each other.

The palace itself sat atop a small, elevated pyramid-like stairway before which we finally made a halt. Or rather we were halted by a group of guards. They dressed in the same fashion as those flashy soldiers that had paraded in front of our former home the other day. Silver plate armor and all. Thank goodness the sun wasn’t shining anymore.

After Urs and Visla stepped off their horses, they approached the guards.

“Aren’t you glad to be home?” I turned to a pouting Zilra still sat on her horse.

“Rather not.” She turned away from me, clearly still mad. And I wasn’t sure if it was thanks to Vrintas’ shouting or the fact that she actually didn’t like her home. Well, she did say she hated her family. But did she really mean that? It was relatable, though. More than I’d have liked to admit.

“Why not? Now you can command all your servants around again! Isn’t that great?” I suppose I can try to cheer her up a tad.

“I guess so, yes.” She let out a slight chuckle.

Bingo.

“Does that mean I can't command you all around anymore?”

“Are you asking if we’re leaving you here and dipping?”

“Mhm.” I couldn’t see her brat-face that well but from the tone of her voice I could tell she was about to go on a sobbing spree.

“We won't leave you alone! Explorer’s promise!” Rheka shouted. So loud in fact that both her parent’s and the old man turned towards her for a moment.

“I mean, if we’re allowed to stay? Sure. I’d love to disobey every order you give me. Also, we still need to teach you a lesson or two.”

She chuckled again. “I think... I think I’d like that.”

She paused for a bit.

“Do you think me annoying?” Zilra turned to face Tavrin, who’d been staring into the distance, obviously avoiding this conversation.

“Sometimes?” Rheka answered the question not directed towards her.

“But we’re sisters! And sisters stick with each other!”

“Sisters, yeah...” Zilra let her head hang. Way to go Rheka.

But sisters huh? I guess I was the closest thing to a sibling Rhea actually had. She must have wanted to have one or two to fool around with.

“Alright, folks. Let’s go in.” Urs said with the upmost fake smile on his face. “Looks like we got ourselves an audience with the king!”

A guard took our horses as we hopped off. And up the stairway we went. The only thing drowning out the pain in my feet was the vertigo I felt because of the height. How lovely it is being me. Every guard knelt as Zilra walked past them. That checked out, she was the King’s daughter after all.

I wonder what kind of guy his highness would turn out to be.