Chapter 18: The City of Sterling III

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[THE SILVER SEAT - Lamplight Dormitories]

Cain looked at the small wooden card in his hands. A little object inscribed with his name and newfound status as a knight, it was going to be his identity card for as long as he was a citizen of Greater Goethia.

The orders really had clout, he decided. It had been a whirlwind of a day, and Cain honestly couldn’t recall much of it. He had been pulled from office to office across town, setting up his residency and documentation to make it look as if he had lived in Greater Goethia his whole life.

At the end of it all he had been given a sack of coins as a prepayment. The pouch hadn’t been as big as the one he had received for McDougal, but he figured by the heft of the sack that knights of the orders were paid well indeed. At the very least, he wouldn't go hungry in this profession. Rhetorically, of course.

He sat up from his bed, and looked around.

This was his room now.

Ronove had explained that unlike the other orders, there were few restrictions on the Lampknights. As long as they were easily reachable and lived within the confines of the Silver Seat, their lives outside of work were free.

Cain looked at the magic tool situated on his right hand.

“This is the Corpse Candle, a magic tool unique to our organization.”

They had been in the main office of the Lamplight Abbey, finishing up the last bits of what had essentially been a light orientation. It reminded him of the onboarding that had happened in his previous life in various jobs. Ronove had gone to retrieve a black box from somewhere, and had presented it to Cain.

He had opened it up. Inside, sitting on top of some nice packaging, was a single black fingerless glove.

“The Order of the Black Lamp is not a public-facing organization,” said Baal. “We do not exist within the government’s public records. Therefore, your position will be written down as 'free knight'.”

Free knights were knights that were not members of orders, as had been explained to him. Many of them were retirees and retained their positions as was tradition, although there were also quite a few that had to renounce their ties to their orders for other reasons, whether personal or professional.

“Although our secrecy comes with many benefits,” explained Baal. “It also presents us with unique challenges. Most people, government officials and knights included, will not know of us, and so can hinder our duties. Revealing the existence of our order is to be avoided as much as possible.”

Ronove had then taken out a glove of his own from his vest pocket. It appeared to be of the same make as the one that Cain had just received. He slipped it on, and held his hand out in the form of a two-fingered salute. It looked like a finger gun motion, Cain noticed humourously.

On the back of the glove, a white sigil faded into existence.

“The Royal Seal of Solomon,” explained Ronove. “Show this and none will refute your authority. Of course, do try and keep the usage of this to a minimum. Our order prefers to stay low-key, and we do not want to trouble His Royal Majesty if we were to be found wantonly abusing it.”

Cain nodded, and slipped it on. The material was silky and smooth. He tested the feeling, clenching and releasing his hand. Corpse Candle was quite an ominous name for such an unassuming piece of cloth.

Then his hand buzzed, like a cellphone. Cain blinked.

Ronove smiled, and held his own gloved hand up to his ear, motioning for Cain to do the same. The black-eyed man did so, and as his hand approached he could hear Ronove’s voice through both the air in his room and through the glove.

“This also functions as a communicator,” explained Ronove. “By drawing the appropriate sigil on your palm, you may attempt to communicate with another one of the order’s members.”

Cain pulled his hand back. Magic was incredible! Over and over again he had underestimated this world - this was basically a cellphone in glove form!

Ronove demonstrated the contact sigils for himself and the Grandmaster, as well as Cain’s own glove if he wanted to give his information out to somebody else.

“The range is large enough for most towns and cities, although perhaps not the Silver Seat. If you are in an area with a large concentration of essence, such as a leyline, you may not be able to contact anyone. Please keep that in mind.”

He nodded.

“And the very last thing about the glove, and this is unique to yours,” said Ronove. “Is that there is a simple glamour spell attached to it. Take a look.”

Ronove produced a small mirror.

Cain looked at his reflection, and felt... strange. It was his face, his body, and his eyes. He felt his heart race.

His real eyes, not the identifying black pits that had replaced them. White sclera and dark brown irises greeted him. This was it. He knew this to be right. This was what he had originally looked like.

“Players are uniquely identifiable,” said Baal. “It is a good thing that we managed to find you early. So far the only ones that know of your distinguishing features are a village of people who feel indebted to you, the dead bandits, and us.”

Cain touched his face gingerly.

“As I’m sure you are aware, based on the information we’ve given you so far, it is best for you to keep your identity as a Player a secret to the wider world,” said Baal. “We do not wish to attract the attention of any unscrupulous individuals or organizations that may... wish to benefit from your existence.”

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The implications had left Cain cold once more. Once again, feelings and memories from the old world attempted to claw their way into his mind. This feeling...

It wasn’t that he had been a man of no importance in his past, but there was a difference between his youthful station and being a chess piece in a greater world of politics. Politics that he had yet to completely grasp, being as new as he was to it. What were even the other nations on this continent? What kind of forces were interested in him out there?

As he wandered away from the office, he had felt anxiety slowly creep in.

And now he was here, in the Lamplight Dormitories, a small building that was attached to the side of the Lamplight Abbey, headquarters of the Black Lamps.

A small, somewhat rundown looking place on the outside, it didn’t attract much attention, although Cain was starting to suspect the order preferred it this way. They had provided him with a room. He was free to find lodgings elsewhere, they had explained, but Cain felt no need to do that just yet.

He had barely just arrived, and already felt so overwhelmed by the sights and vistas he had seen on the way. Having a foothold provided for him was incredibly reassuring.

Looking outside, he caught the view of the city.

It was still breathtaking, especially in the evening twilight.

The Lamplight Abbey was situated on one of the smaller floating islands that he had spotted on the way in, and so from where he was he could survey everything on the ground. Brilliant lights lit up the ground, even from places shaded by the floating islands that existed far above.

Cain wanted to explore, but where to even start?

“Oh yeah!” said Muse as they had parted ways upon entering the city. “Once you get all settled in, go check out the Night Market! It’s got the best street food in the city! Make sure you at least get one meal per day in you, okay?”

And with that, she had been off. Webby had given them a little bow from his position on her shoulder.

Cain felt a little lonely. There was something about being by oneself in such a massive new city that had a way of dampening one’s spirits, but he shook his head to try and get it out.

He had coins to spend, and the Night Market seemed as good of a place as any to go.

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[THE SILVER SEAT - The Night Market]

It didn’t take long for him to find the place. The transportation in the Silver Seat was superb - leaving Lamplight Island had been as easy as riding a gondola down. Then, once he had reached the floor level of the massive metropolis, he had simply asked for some directions and hopped onto one of the horse-drawn omnibuses.

Fare was remarkably cheap, or at least he thought so; Cain was still getting used to the relative values of the coins he held. Then again, it made sense. The city was so massive and there seemed to be few analogues to cars, so most of the population relied on public transit. Cain supposed that they made their money back on quantity alone.

He had hopped off the carriage and paid the coachman the appropriate fee, and then looked upward. A large gate, with ‘Signer Street Night Market’ loomed over him. Cain stepped over the threshold, and into the market.

It occurred to him, right then and there, firstly just how many humans and little else he had seen so far in this world. Secondly, he realized that the Silver Seat had a lot more in common with many metropolises in the old world than just size.

A melting pot of culture.

People of all varieties and sizes surrounded him, walking to and fro as they browsed wares and purchased food from the vendors at their stalls. The delicious aroma in the air of a million different cuisines adapted into street food.

A green-skinned orc girl dragged her elven boyfriend to a jewelry salesman who looked like a bipedal locust (Cain’s mind briefly flashed to Japanese masked rider shows). A man with bear ears was bringing food over to a table of children with similar features. Another man with scales dressed up in a yukata and tall geta hawking his candied apples. A creature made of pure dark smoke with shining lights where their eyes should be buying one, and chomping on it happily.

Cain would later learn the proper names of these races; humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, beastmen, zectors, koijin, djinn.

But right now, all Cain did was drink in the sights and sounds, enjoying the smell of exotic spices he had no name for but was dying to try out. The vendors shouted out, advertising their wares amongst competition. Some of them had accents that he couldn’t place.

Cain smiled.

How could he be lonely in a place like this?

“Terracotta phoenix skewers, over here! You won't be disappointed! Specialty from the Kantang Mountains in the east! One bite and you’ll run to the milkman next door! Sir, over there! Sir! You look like you’re up for a challenge! Two, no, three skewers a gold coin!”

“From the south! We’ve got meadow tea! Made with traditional methods, the carbonation lasts for months even opened! All sorts of flavourings, we’ve got tendo, mango, abarite, and even grape flavours! Come try the traditional drink of the beastmen! Guaranteed to satisfy!”

“Here, take a look at our roasted lizards! If you’re Goethian you know what we’re all about! Auntie Sylvia’s Roasted Lizards have been voted the best in Greater Goethia for twelve years running! Let’s keep it going! You! Ma’am! Here’s a free sample for you and your family!”

The three moons were on the horizon now, rising up as the sun dipped. Cain smiled as he enjoyed the market atmosphere with three skewers of terracotta phoenix in hand, his lips burning.

Hoo boy, that guy hadn’t been kidding.

He really needed milk.

BAM!

Just then a smaller figure plowed right into him, spending him sprawling onto the floor. He engaged Control Scheme without thinking - sparring with Ronove in the past few days had taught him to always be ready - and sprang back onto his feet before the skewers could fall to the floor.

Cain snatched them out of the air. Goddammit, they were spicy, but he wasn’t going to just go around wasting food like that.

“You okay?” asked Cain.

The small figure in front of him looked to be a young teen, a raggedy hood covering their features. They scrambled back onto their feet, before bowing apologetically and rushing off into the crowd. Cain watched them go, before something occurred to him.

“Oh crud!”

Frantically he checked his pockets. Whew, everything he had brought with him was still there. It would’ve been hard to track down that kid in a crowd like this if he really had been pickpocketed.

And so he turned around, intent on browsing some more. He gave no thought to the kid who really had accidentally run into him. Encounters like that were to be expected in such ridiculous crowds. One could barely see where they were going.

He didn’t know that the raggedy figure was being looked for.

Nor did he suspect how hard he himself would be looking for him soon enough.

The figure ran past the gate that Cain had entered in from, his breathing haggard. He ducked into a dark alley, past the people who meandered their way in and out of the market, and pulled down his hood once he was sure no one was around.

Eyes of pure black stood out against even his brown skin. Tired neon violet irises peeked out from sclera dark as the abyss.