Aio was surprised and looked up at the ramshackle building in front of him. A sign hung up that said “Starfront”.

“What’s this?” Aio inquired.

“A saloon,” Cyr said, “and one of the hidden entrances into the Night Market.”

A shoddy metal door perched on rusted hinges marked the entrance to this building. The walls’ rustic design felt anachronistic and quaint when compared against the modern buildings of which Aio was accustomed to, such as those sporting minimalistic and efficient designs built specifically for practical use and technological compatibility with a variety of over-the-counter quality-of-life holo-devices. This saloon’s look couldn’t have been how buildings looked back at the founding of the city, could it? Whatever the case was, Cyr decided to push past Aio and swung the double doors open.

Patrons were loudly singing in one corner, as the bartender began shaking a tin full of ice and liquor, whipping the drink inside before straining a particularly delectable-looking drink with a greenish-hue over ice in a rocks glass. Too bad Aio was underaged. One of the caretakers back in the day then said there was nothing like some good booze to get you through life’s troubles, and that he would take Aio out once he was of age. Aio wondered how he was doing, that old man Trimbotin. The man was never very good at being a caretaker, but he was funny.

Cyr scanned the area before walking towards the bar. A lady carrying a serving tray had noticed them, pausing for a moment before scuttling towards them, drinks sloshing and food sliding on top of her food tray, holding on for dear life.

“Welcome guests. Drinks for you? And food for the kid?” she said, looking at Cyr and Aio. A charred meat of some unknown variety sat on top of the plate that she carried on the serving tray. It did look very delectable, but then again, Aio thought most food looked pretty good in general, at least compared to what he was used to back in the underground.

“No thanks Cyr said. We’re not-,” he started.

“Then how about a guide? For your trip to the underground,” she said, smiling. She moved the tray forward, offering the food. “Still, you can’t go wrong with some free food.”

Aio looked surprised, but Cyr just watched her carefully.

“Ah I see,” Cyr said. “You’re one of the Songbirds.” Aio wore his heart on his sleeve, so it was easy to tell the moment his face changed from surprised, to realization, to acceptance.

He needs to work on that, Cyr thought.

“The name’s Vera. And to whom do I owe the pleasure to?” she asked. The woman had puffy golden locks, a mole under her left eye and a comforting, though somewhat plump face. She sported a blue waitress’ apron, fit with the standard mis en places’ such as utensils, pens, napkins, and a portable register on her hip for finalizing customer transactions.

Cyr gestured with his hands. “I’m Cyr. This is Aio. Ms. Vera, what, may I ask, did Reina want from you specifically?”

“Oh, shouldn’t ya’ll know better than I? I was simply told to help two young men with directions who fit your descriptions and that these two young men would provide me with more details when the time came.”

Cyr thought over that. Reina was probably being cautious with her wording so as not to divulge too much through open communications. Aio bit into the food. It was indeed better than he thought. He looked optimistically at it, and then at Vera.

“So, are you here to help us get to the village?” Aio asked her. For some reason, Cyr gave him a stern look.

“Hm? Oh yes, whenever you’re done with your meal of course, I’d be happy to show you the way,” she responded. Aio nodded, gorging on the meal as quickly as he could.

“Well, Ms. Vera,” Cyr continued, “Would you be alright if we made a stop somewhere along the way?”

She looked at him, smile unchanging. “Of course, deary. Take your sweet ol’ time.”

“Thank you. Come on Aio. Just take your food to go,” Cyr said.

“Mmr-mmh pokay” Aio mumbled, mouth full. Cyr shook his head in exasperation, walking towards the bartender.

The bartender looked at Cyr, and then back at Aio, who was hastily packing up his remaining food in an empty box that khad handed him. Vera’s eyes locked onto the bartender, who caught her nodding in affirmation. The bartender gave a slight nod in return.

“So, you want the good stuff in the back, right?” the bartender stated. He was polishing a wine glass, which was fairly spotless to begin with.

“If that’s how you’re wording it, then yes. I want the good stuff,” Cyr responded.

“And how will you be paying for access to it?” he asked.

“With Mon,” Cyr stated with no hesistation. “I will be paying for it with Mon.”

The bartender nodded, satisfied. “Ok then, right this way. Vera! I need you here.”

“Coming,” she said.

“Just between you and me,” the bartender whispered to Cyr. “I don’t think you’ll find a more reliable guide. She’s been working extra hard as of late. Not sure what prompted the change, but her work ethic change has been night and day since last week. Almost like a new person haha. Something good must have happened.”

Cyr just listened silently as the man walked around an opening in the corner of the bar. He motioned for Cyr to go around the back to get to him.

A gossip type, Cyr thought.

As the three people followed the bartender down a wooden walkway, the walls of the building around them began transitioning from wood into stone. The next thing Aio realized, they were walking through a cavern. Lanterns hung from every side, bathing the walls with the glow of muted orange, and the smell of sulfur permeated the air. It was a familiar scent, and one that evoked nostalgia in him.

Aio, who was wearing his armor at the moment underneath his clothing decided to issue a non-verbal command. He subtly increased his perception for a brief moment, taking in the air of a world beneath the world for which he once called home. Although, in reality, he could be far from the village where his orphanage was located at, the atmosphere felt all the same.

Most villages of the underground, save for those surrounding the Night Market, were pretty far and apart from each other. The caverns which travelled to and fro spanned across the entire underground, a network of cave systems like anthills which encompassed the radius of Neo-Kamakura, if not larger. Most were unsuitable for human habitation, and as such have only ever been used as alternative routes for travel, although environmental factors such as noxious chemical air, or the occasional encounter with one of the rarer types of subterranean cavern Enthipids, precludes most of the unprepared travelers from making the foray.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Entrances into the underground were few, allegedly, but Aio knew of the existence of hidden entrances, though not the one he just took. The two worlds of the surface and underground were, for the most part, the difference between the elite and the peasantry, the difference between those with power and those without, and both sides were fiercely determined to prevent interference by the other.

After a series of twists and turns, the bartender finally stumbled upon an opening, beyond which revealed a colossal cavern. Rays of gold bathed the cavern from holes in the ceiling. In the distance, Aio could see vermillion lines dotting the landscape, lights from a district-sized series of building lined up across a somewhat elevated slope, illuminating the cave around them. Below, Aio saw rovers and carts of various sizes take loads of what appeared to be glowing cyan ores into the city. The sound of marchinery, drillbits, and pickaxing dotted his now-enhanced ears and the smell of sulfur grew almost unbearable. In that scent, Aio noticed…something different. A scent he had never processed before…an almost empty smell, if not for the lack of a better way of describing it.

And just like that, it was gone. What was that? All that remained now was the sulfur pouring through his nostrils again, and the radiance of the Night Market’s lights in the distance. Aio began to cough.

He released his Johrei, and his senses dulled to normal levels once again. The bartender looked back at the trio, focusing on Vera, and then at Aio.

“You should always have your mask prepared for times like this kid,” he said. Aio pulled out a small mask that Caz lent to him, placing it over his mouth. He issued a non-verbal command and it locked onto his face, small Johrei shards covering the sides of his cheek. A filtered flow of air entered his mouth, free from the chemicals outside. He looked at Cyr, who had already placed a mask without his realizing. Surprisingly, Vera didn’t seem to have one.

“Well, this is as far as I’ll take ya,” the bartender continued, “I still have the bar to tend. Vera, you know the way into the city, so you can lead the others. That there in the distance is the Night Market. If you two need any help, Vera can answer any questions. This isn’t her first rodeo.”

“Thank you, sir!” Aio said. The bartender grunted. Cyr remained silent but nodded. The bartender nodded back.

As the bartender’s figure receded into the darkness of the caverns, Vera began to take point. “Be careful on your way down the slope,” she said. “The fall has even been known to heavily injure those with Johrei protection. From here, it’ll be an hour’s travel before we reach the entrance to the city.”

“Sounds good,” Cyr responded. If he recalled, an hour was actually pretty quick since no entrance from the surface led directly into the Night Market. This was an early precaution taken by the founders of this pseudo-district in order to avoid the scrying eyes of the city leadership, Auditors, or Clan of Tributes at the time. Though, it wasn’t much of a surprise these days as everyone knew of its existence. People probably didn’t think that it was worth trying to take down, given the scale of the district, its longevity, its security, and surprisingly, it’s benefit to the economic stability of Neo-Kamakura. Goods not produced by the Clans could be created and afforded at cheaper prices in the Night Market. Hunters who die out in field have their weapons recycled back into the public domain, renewed, and sold again, thus contributing to the financial predictability that helps with the financial stability of the city. And the Onyx Technicians, clad in mystery provide state-of-the-art equipment for hunters of all backgrounds, given the right incentive was provided. In fact, their prowess in innovation was stated to be second only to the Clan of Tributes and their research department, though Aio knew the truth to be the reverse.

Vera stepped up and began walking down a nearby slope, carved out by people to form a makeshift trail towards the city. “C’mon, better to head down there now while we still have light pouring in,” she said. Aio and Cyr followed suit. Nothing but the sound of the reverb of machinery and running water could be heard across the cavern, and for the most part, the walk to the city was mostly uneventful, if not exhausting.

Cyr however, was still being cautious. Although rare, it isn’t unheard of for Enthipids to crawl out of the woodworks and attack people in the underground, especially in the outskirts of districts and towns where humans did not preside in. Aio checked every now and then as well, as he was taught, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

And that empty smell is gone still, he thought. Well, he was wearing a mask now. And maybe it was just his imagination earlier, though he was careful not to rely on the convenience of that thought. A hunter should never assume, lest he be killed in the line of fire.

When the trio finally reached the city, a local guard patrol stopped them. They saw Vera however and, realizing she was acting as a guide again, let the trio into the Night Market. Like Lucens Mundi, the underground market bustled with activity, though there was definitely a more organic feel to it. Bargainers argued prices at every corner; men and women dressed up in mismatched armor of varying kinds lined the streets; kids in shaggy clothing stood behind booths, helping out adults with reorganizing shelves, purveying goods, or engaging in conversation with potential customers and the like.

Despite its reputation as the largest black market in the underground, crime seldom occurred in the Night Market, and a sense unspoken camaraderie bound the locals to the predictable monotony that became the staple of the Market. No one dared to steal when they could buy, and no one dared to waste time, when they could be productive. Such is the hidden contract that the people of this city have come to expect, which is why disruptive outside factors such as the interference of the Clan of Tributes saw no welcome in the Market’s borders.

The trio ignored the local merchants attempting to draw them in, commenting on their armor and their “looks” as hunters. Some attempted to entice Cyr and Aio to “refurbish” their armor, looking worse-for-wear, allegedly, while others asked if either were interested in their local delicacies, which, to be honest, Aio kind of missed. Though most of the food came from Vitadale, the Night Market has been known to raise their own variety of nighttime plants which can’t be found on the surface.

“So,” Cyr started, as they walked past a few apartment buildings – residential living quarters which existed in blocks set between sections of markets and business offices. “We haven’t told you where we wanted to go yet. Where are you taking us?” he asked, somewhat curious, if not suspicious.

“Just let me know and I can take you there. For now, I’m just meeting up with a local nearby to relay some updates about an unrelated matter. It won’t take long,” she said.

“I see”, Cyr said. “Aio, you can tell her. They’ll be times like this when you’ll have to take lead on an assignment.”

Aio looked at Cyr, mouth open as if about to say something to him, but decided against it. He looked to Vera instead, “It’s the Little Miracles Home, run by Madam Roberta,” Aio said.

Vera nodded her head. “That one? That’s actually quite the well-known orphanage. Talented kids of all walks of life came from that place. I knew a few myself, though they’re not around anymore,” she said cooly. “When was the last time you saw that place, young man?”

“About seven years ago I would say,” Aio responded. “Before I was taken in by the Bl-” Cyr looked at him, face unreadable. Aio corrected himself. “Before I was adopted by my current family.”

“Hmm. Well, you don’t have to be afraid. I could tell both of you are hunters just by looking at you, though Reina didn’t give me much detail of whom. All hunters are welcome in the Night Market, as long as they follow the rules and don’t cause trouble.” She smiled, but her eyes did not look at them assuringly at all. Her eyes seemed to be looking elsewhere.

Casimir Lionnane was a renowned figure in the underground, but the Blackbirds, though registered with the Clan of Venerers, have little to no discerning information about the other members outside of Caz and Nyx. In the eyes of hunter society, Aio was practically a ghost. Even Cyriak didn’t get much notice from other hunters, since he hardly makes public appearances, preferring to keep to the shadows whenever he conducts his hunts. This provided its own type of advantage – the less people who know about their status as Division hunters, the better.

After walking for a few more blocks, a large series of steps heading up a sloped road paved the path in front of them. At the top of the slope was a simple gate, held together by a traditional lock mechanism. Trees with a variety of darkened leaves, native to the cave system, lined the edges of the steps, conveying the impression of a location that cared for its presentation. These trees needed very little light to thrive, and glowed cyan during the late night, giving the steps an almost ethereal vibe. It was a familiar place to Aio, and one he had spent half his youth in.

I’m home, he thought, as Vera led the pair up the steps and towards the orphanage.