With Taro trailing in his wake, still slightly awed by the carnage they'd left in the arena, Sen stalked through the bustling streets towards a reputable tailor and bathing house. The taste of victory lingered, mixing with the metallic scent of blood clinging to his skin and the clink of coin in his pockets.

The bathhouse owner, an overweight, florid woman named Yumi, ushered Sen upstairs to the private VIP section reserved for "important" clientele, her knowing gaze appraising his torn garments and exhausted manner with a sly grin."Fresh linens and a hot spring to relax in will cost extra,"she informed him.

Taro opted for a basic scrub-down while Sen splurged, sinking gratefully into the steaming water as maids rubbed soothing oils into his muscles.

As the tension drained from Sen's limbs in the luxurious bath, his mind raced with plans. With a sizable portion of his winnings stowed safely, he focused on his immediate needs. After a thorough scrubbing and change of clothing, he turned his thoughts to food and rest.

Donning his new, fine clothes, Sen emerged from the bathhouse feeling refreshed and reinvigorated. The hot springs had eased the aches from his battle, and the new garments lent him an air of quiet confidence.

With Taro in tow, he sought out a respectable inn for the night. The Moonlit Willow offered comfortable accommodations and a menu of hearty fare.

As they entered the cozy common room, the aroma of sizzling meats and herbs filled the air. Patrons mingled at tables or retired to private chambers for the evening.

Spotting a vacant corner booth, Sen made his way over and settled onto a plush cushion. The soft ticking of an oil lamp caught his ear, a pleasant contrast to the usual background noise of drunken patrons and dice games.

He turned his attention to the menu, his stomach growling with anticipation. The list was a who's-who of Takamo specialties, from rich, slow-braised meat served with a tangy chili relish to crispy-fried oysters dusted with powdered lotus root for a nutty, creamy flavor.

Ordering a hearty portions of each, along with a decanter of rice wine for himself and weak ale for Taro (to curb the old man's inebriated tendencies), Sen leaned back, letting the ambience wash over him.

As they waited for their food, Sen turned to Taro, his expression pensive. "I can't help but wonder... what else this city hides? There's more to this place than just fancy inns and underground fights, isn't there?"

Taro paused, setting down his ale and eyeing Sen over the rim of the tankard, his eyes glinting with mischief in the low lamplight.

Taro sipped at his ale thoughtfully before answering, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes at the prospect of regaling his younger companion with Takamo's secrets.

"Ah, where d'ye start lad? Takamo be a proper metropolis, ye ken. There be more to see and do 'ere than yer average bumpkin could handle."

He began ticking off attractions on his stubby fingers."The Floating Lantern Festival in spring be a sight, hundreds of lanterns fillin' the night sky. Summer's Great Muster see soldiers and mercenaries gather for tournament. Fall brings the Moon Feast, a night o' drunken revelry. Winter? Well, best be careful o' frostbitten arses!"

The old man cackled, sloshing a bit of his ale as he gestured animatedly.

Sen drummed his forefinger against the table, irritation evident in his voice. "I was talking about ways to earn more gold coins besides the fighting pits."

Taro's expression turned calculating as he leaned in, lowering his voice to avoid eavesdroppers."Coin-hungry sorts find opportunity aplenty in a burrow like Takamo. Why, there's thrivin' trades to be made in them Silk Quarter markets, hawkin' wares from far-off lands to eager buyers. Apprenticeships in the forges or workshops pay decent wages if yer skilled wi' yer hands."

He glanced around furtively before adding,"Mind, some opportunities be... less above board. Them Akahata folk control the real profitable ventures - smugglin', black market dealings, 'nother sorts. But they ain't fond of outsiders buttin' in."

Taro stroked his chin, a thought striking him."Speakin' of opportunity... have I mentioned the Hunters and Mercenaries Guilds? Mighty respectable sortin's, them."

The old man's eyes sparkled at the memories of his own youth, fighting alongside brethren.

"There be three main Guilds in Takamo: Stormwardens, protectors of travelers and coastal settlements; Iron Oaks, loyal to the Minori clan, and Shattered Spear, er..."Taro coughed tactfully,"...open to the highest bidder."

Leaning closer, he continued in a conspiratorial tone."Ought be room for a strapping young buck like yerself, with skills such as yers. Most apprentices be gettin' ready to begin their careers about now."

Sen considered the prospect, looking into the distance with an inscrutable expression as their food began to arrive.

Sen paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow as he eyed the tempting dishes before him - glistening slabs of braised grub, delicate morsels of fried fish, and an array of exotic fruits artfully arranged on colorful glazed plates.

Before dihging in, however, he turned to Taro with a serious look."Before we dive in, clear something out for me."

The old timer met Sen's gaze, one bushy eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Where the exactly is this city on the map?"

Sen gestured vaguely towards the darkened windows overlooking the bustling street. "And what’s the story with this kingdom? What else is out there?"

Taro set his drink down, leaning back as his finger traced invisible lines in the air. "South of the Ryūzoku Empire, lad. That’s where we be."

"To the west, past the hills, there’s Elarian, where the High Elves rule. Beyond them lies Eldoria, a kingdom that's locked itself in its own quarrels for seasons now since its king went and croaked. His sons all fightin' over who's to claim the throne."

“North of Eldoria lies Vordoth, a grim, frozen wasteland where necromancers rule. Folk don’t just whisper about the dead walking; they live it.” His eyes flickered with unease, but he quickly covered it with a swig of ale. “Not a place for the faint-hearted.”

He shifted, gesturing eastward. “Onihr’s closer. That’s where the guilds run wild, where a blade’s easier to buy than bread. Coins talk loud there, louder than laws. You’d fit right in, but don’t think they won’t chew you up if they smell weakness.”

Sen's hand idly played with the edge of his cup, his gaze steady.

Taro smirked. “As for Ryūzoku? The dragon looms, sure, but there’s cracks beneath the polish. Nobles fighting nobles, folk fighting to survive. It’s peaceful enough if you don’t look too close. But Takamo?” He gestured vaguely to the streets outside. “This place’ll show you everything if you’ve got the guts to dig.”

Sen’s brow furrowed, but his expression stayed calm. The aroma of the food in front of him mixed with the faint din of the room, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Sen's head snapped toward Taro, his brow furrowing. "Wait, what? A dragon?"

Taro grinned, leaning back with a satisfied slurp of his ale. "Aye, lad. The White Dragon. They say it watches over the Ryūzoku Empire from its palace atop the floating mountains."

Sen blinked, unsure if the old man was pulling his leg. "You’re telling me there’s an actual dragon just… hanging around, keeping tabs on this place?"

"Aye," Taro said, the gleam of mischief in his eyes growing brighter. "Not just any dragon, mind ye. The one that made this land what it is. Without it, there’d be no Ryūzoku Empire, no Takamo, none of it. Folk worship it like a god, and for good reason. They say its power carved oases from the barren wastes, turned dust into thriving cities. Even now, it keeps the empire bound together."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Sen crossed his arms, skeptical. "Bound together how? Does it swoop down and torch villages that don’t pay their taxes?"

Taro chuckled, the sound deep and raspy. "Nay, nothin' so crude. The Shoguns do its bidding, keep the peace on its behalf. But that dragon, folk say it watches, always watches. And if ye cross the empire too far, well…" He shrugged. "Some say its judgment ain’t as distant as it seems."

For a moment, Sen was silent, staring at the darkened windows of the inn. "A dragon god," he muttered, almost to himself. The thought hung heavy in the air, absurd and tantalizing in equal measure. "Guess I’ve heard stranger things."

Taro grinned, raising his tankard. "If ye live long enough, ye’ll see 'em too."

Sen leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his expression sharp. "Alright, so if this dragon's such a big deal, how did all this start? The empire, the cities—how does a place like this come together?"

Taro set down his tankard, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His grin faded, replaced by a thoughtful look. "Ah, now there's a tale," he said, tapping a stubby finger against the wood of the table. "Ryūzoku wasn't always the land of silk and steel ye see now. Used to be a barren wasteland, naught but sand and glass drakes."

"Glass drakes?" Sen arched an eyebrow.

"Aye," Taro said, nodding. "Great wingless lizards, their scales like stained glass, shimmerin’ in the sun. Fierce things. And amidst that wasteland, there was a man—Jirō, they called him. A blacksmith, far from here, lost in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Sen frowned. "Lost? You mean he stumbled into this wasteland?"

"More like fell," Taro said with a smirk. "Through some sort of rift, they say. He came from a world far different than ours. Found himself in the heart of that wasteland, wanderin' from oasis to oasis, tryin' to survive. Them oases? Turns out they weren’t natural. They were gifts from the White Dragon."

Sen sat back, folding his arms. "So the dragon just... decided to help this guy?"

Taro chuckled. "Not quite. The dragon, see, it was bored. It had been alone for who knows how long, creatin’ oases just to amuse itself. Then along comes Jirō, a man who didn’t belong, with a fire in his heart and a hammer in his hand. The dragon saw somethin’ in him—potential, maybe—and struck a bargain. Jirō would build temples and shrines in its honor, and in return, the dragon promised him survival and a way to thrive."

Sen’s gaze narrowed. "And he went for it?"

"Wouldn’t ye?" Taro asked with a sly grin. "What’s a man to do, facin’ death in a wasteland full of glass drakes? Jirō agreed, and with the dragon’s guidance, he began craftin’ more than just shrines. He forged weapons, tools, even laws. Folk were drawn to him—survivors, wanderers, and traders. Before long, what started as a small settlement turned into a kingdom, and then an empire."

Taro gestured to the painted map on the wall. "That’s how Ryūzoku began. The White Dragon gave it life, but it was Jirō who gave it purpose. His descendants, the Shoguns, rule to this day, keepin’ the dragon’s will and the empire’s order."

Sen stared at the map, his expression unreadable. "And the dragon? It just… watches?"

Taro nodded, lowering his voice. "Watches, aye. From its floating palace, high above the mountains. Folk say it rarely intervenes now, but its presence keeps the empire united. If it weren’t for that dragon, Ryūzoku would be like Eldoria—fractured and fightin’ itself to pieces."

Sen leaned back, the weight of the story settling over him. "So the empire’s built on a deal with a dragon," he said, almost to himself. "That’s… something."

Taro grinned, raising his tankard once more. "And if yer smart, ye’ll stay on its good side."

Sen, still mulling over the story of the empire’s origins, glanced down at the steaming plates before him. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in hours. With a slight grunt, he picked up his chopsticks and dug in, the rich flavors of the braised meat and crispy fish melding perfectly together. The tangy chili relish gave the dish a sharp bite, while the fried oysters were as delicate as promised, the lotus root adding a smooth, nutty finish.

Taro, meanwhile, was contentedly sipping his ale, watching the younger man devour his food. "That’s the spirit," he said, before taking another swig.

Sen paused for a moment, wiping his mouth with a cloth. "Not bad for a place like this," he muttered, his gaze drifting toward the bustling common room as he took another bite. The warmth of the food, coupled with the lingering buzz of the conversation, was exactly what he needed to settle his thoughts.

The dishes before him seemed to vanish quickly, but Sen made sure to savor each bite.

Once he’d cleaned his plate, Sen leaned back with a contented sigh, stretching his arms. "That hit the spot," he said, his voice quieter now, as he wiped the last bit of sauce from his lips.

Sen leaned back in his seat, feeling the warmth of the meal settle in his stomach. He looked at Taro, his eyes glinting with a new sense of curiosity. "Alright, old man," he said, tossing a coin onto the table, "show me around this city. What’s there to see in Takamo, besides all the ale and food?"

Taro’s face split into a knowing grin, and he pushed himself to his feet with surprising agility for his age. "Ah, lad, ye've got the right idea. Takamo’s a city o' layers, each with its own story to tell. I'll show ye the sights and maybe a few secrets ye won't find on yer own."

With that, Taro led Sen out of the Moonlit Willow and into the lively streets of Takamo. The night air was cool, and the bustling noise of the city thrummed around them like the pulse of a living creature.

"First stop," Taro said, gesturing to a narrow street with flickering lanterns, "is the Silk Quarter. It’s where the merchants sell everything from spices to rare silks, weapons to trinkets. If ye’re lookin' for something exotic, that’s the place to be."

They passed through the bustling market, where colorful stalls spilled with fabric, trinkets, and jewelry. Vendors called out to potential buyers, showcasing goods from lands far and wide. The air was thick with the scent of incense and exotic spices. Sen paused, eyeing a stall filled with shimmering silks that seemed to change color as they caught the light.

"Expensive stuff," Sen muttered, glancing at the price tags. "Who buys this?"

Taro shrugged. "Rich folk, tourists, and those lookin' to flaunt wealth. But the real treasures are tucked deeper in the quarter. The back alleys, where ye can find rare artifacts or... less legal things." He grinned at Sen, who raised an eyebrow but kept walking.

They continued through the quarter, the crowds thinning as they neared the edge. Taro led him toward a winding alley where the streetlights grew dimmer and the air felt heavier, thicker with secrets.

"This," Taro said, pausing, "is the Obsidian Veil. Not a place for the faint-hearted. The Akahata Syndicate runs things here—smugglers, thieves, and anyone with a bit of coin to trade. If ye’ve got the right connections, ye can find work, but ye’ll want to be careful."

Sen took in the shadowy street, his senses on alert. "Sounds like trouble."

"Aye," Taro agreed, "but trouble can be profitable, if ye know how to handle it. Trust me, I’ve made a few coins in places like this."

As they moved on, Taro steered Sen toward a more open area. The buildings here were grander, the streets cleaner, and the sounds of the city faded into a more dignified hum.

"This," Taro said, spreading his arms, "is the Jade Heights. The rich folk live here, nobles, important merchants, and officials. The Takamo Palace is here too, though ye won’t get close unless ye’re invited."

Sen took in the imposing sight of the palace—towering walls, ornate carvings, and grand gardens that stretched out of sight. "It’s impressive," he remarked. "But I bet there’s more going on behind closed doors than anyone in that palace would admit."

Taro chuckled. "Aye, lad, ye’re not wrong. Politics, intrigue, whispers o' power games. It’s the heartbeat of Takamo, if ye know where to listen."

The final stop on Taro’s impromptu tour was the Ivory Harbor, the heart of the city's trade. Ships from all over the world lined the docks, their sails fluttering in the evening breeze. The sound of waves crashing and the clink of goods being unloaded filled the air.

"Here’s where the wealth of Takamo flows," Taro said, gesturing to the bustling port. "This is how the city survives—trade, mercenary work, and the coin that follows it."

Sen nodded, his gaze fixed on the ships coming in from distant lands. He could sense the city’s pulse here, the lifeblood of commerce running through the docks. "Not a bad place to make a living," he muttered, eyeing a group of traders haggling over crates of goods.

Taro grinned, sensing the younger man’s interest. "Aye, lad. But remember, there’s always someone watchin', always someone with their hands out, ready to take what’s yours."

Sen smirked. "Sounds like Takamo in a nutshell."

With a satisfied nod, Taro led Sen back toward the Moonlit Willow, the night winding down. "Well, lad, that’s the short tour. Takamo’s got a way of pulling folk in, beautiful on the outside, full of secrets on the inside. What ye decide to do with that is up to ye."

Sen looked up at the glowing lights of the city, his mind racing with possibilities. "I’ve got a feeling this place has a lot more to offer than just a hot meal and a fight."

Taro’s grin widened. "I’ve no doubt ye’ll find it. Now come over this way."

Taro guided Sen through the maze of narrow streets until they reached the Blacksmith’s Forges, a district known for its clanging, heated forges and the distinct scent of burning metal. The sounds of hammering against anvil echoed from every corner, each forge a different rhythm, as skilled artisans shaped weapons and armor for customers of all kinds.

The district was mostly populated by Lionfolk, their muscular forms and impressive stature perfect for the strength required in blacksmithing. The air was thick with the heat of the furnaces, and every blacksmith worked tirelessly, their movements sharp and practiced.

Taro nodded toward one of the larger forges, where a Lionfolk blacksmith with a golden mane was hard at work, hammering a sword into shape. "This is where ye’ll find some of the finest weapons in Takamo," Taro said, "but they don’t come cheap."

Sen eyed the forge, his gaze sharpening. "I need something special," he muttered, thinking back to his idea of gauntlets with blades protruding from the elbows, something that could serve as both offensive and defensive in close combat. He could already imagine how it would feel: quick strikes, deadly precision, and the ability to deflect blows with ease.

He stepped forward, approaching the blacksmith. The Lionfolk blacksmith looked up from his work, his amber eyes glowing in the dim light of the forge.

"What can I do for you, traveler?" the blacksmith asked, his voice deep and steady.

Sen ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the heavy armor and intricate weapons lining the walls. "I want to commission a custom set of gauntlets," Sen began, his voice filled with purpose. "Gauntlets with blades extending from the elbows, something I can use in close combat. Make them with the best steel you’ve got."

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the request. "That’s a rare design. Would need some special crafting—cutting into the elbow joint, balance, flexibility... it’s a challenge." He leaned on his hammer, studying Sen with a thoughtful expression. "And the cost for something like that would be steep. You’d be looking at the finest steel—Takamo’s best."

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the request. "That’s a rare design. Would need some special crafting, cutting into the elbow joint, balance, flexibility... it’s a challenge." He leaned on his hammer, studying Sen with a thoughtful expression. "And the cost for something like that would be steep. You’d be looking at the finest steel, Takamo’s best."

Sen’s gaze hardened as he took in the blacksmith’s words. "How steep are we talking?"

The blacksmith scratched his chin, estimating the costs in his mind. "For a set like that, forged from Takamo’s finest steel... it’d take weeks, and cost you a pretty penny. At least 500 gold coins, perhaps more, depending on the complexity."

Sen's brow furrowed at the figure, his fingers twitching in thought. He’d barely made a fraction of that in the fights at the Crimson Pavilion, and the thought of paying that much made his stomach twist.

Taro, standing by, chuckled. "It’s a steep price, but if ye want the best, ye’ve got to pay for it."

"I’ll need time to think on it," Sen said, his voice low and calm. "I’ll be back once I have the coin."

With that, Sen stepped away from the forge, his mind already working on his next move. Taro, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave a low chuckle.

"Yer idea’s a good one, lad, but ye’ll need a hefty purse for that kind of craftsmanship. Best start looking into guilds that pay well."

Sen’s gaze hardened with resolve. "That’s exactly what I’m thinking."

The two of them made their way through the city, Taro leading Sen towards the Hunters and Mercenaries Guilds. They passed the more well-off districts, heading towards the lower, less glamorous parts of Takamo where the guilds had their bases of operation. It wasn’t a glamorous area, but it was filled with potential for someone with Sen’s skills.

"There are three main guilds here," Taro explained as they walked. "Stormwardens, Iron Oaks, and Shattered Spear. Stormwardens guard the coast, keeping the waters safe. Iron Oaks are loyal to the Minori clan, doing all sorts of work for them. And then there’s Shattered Spear, they’ll take any job, no matter the cause."

Sen nodded, already mulling over his options. The Shattered Spear sounded like it could be a good fit for someone like him, open to the highest bidder. But the reputation of the Iron Oaks, with their connections to the Minori clan, was tempting as well.

"How do I join one of these guilds?" Sen asked, his voice focused.

Taro grinned, his eyes gleaming. "Ye’ll need to show yer worth, lad. It’s all about skill. They’ll test ye, see if ye’ve got what it takes. If yer good enough, they’ll take ye on."

Sen thought for a moment. "I’ll head to the Shattered Spear guild first. If their pay’s decent, I’ll stick with them. If not, I’ll go back to the pits in the Crimson Pavilion."

Taro raised an eyebrow at that. "The Crimson Pavilion? Aye, that’s where ye can make coin, sure, but it’s also where ye’ll risk yer life for it. Be careful, lad. That place doesn’t have the best reputation."

"I know the risks," Sen replied, his voice steady. "But it’s a good way to get quick coin, and I’ve been in worse situations."

With a final nod, they continued toward the guilds, Sen’s mind already focused on the task ahead. The gauntlets were within reach, but he would need to fight for every coin he earned to make them a reality. Whether through the guilds or the fighting pits, Sen knew one thing for sure: He wasn’t backing down.