Once through the inner gates, the throng of bodies immediately began to thin as players disappeared down one of the many side streets and narrow avenues. Max followed Entrails down one such avenue, which cut and sometimes curled through the city. Max had no idea where they were going, but his tall friend seemed confident navigating the urban maze.
“Keep up,” said Entrails. “This is the Shingles… don’t want to be out here after the sun sets.”
The space between the endless sprawl of buildings were becoming narrower. Most were only a few stories tall at most, but the wood and plaster constructions leaned over—and sometimes against—each other. It made these thin alleyways oppressive and maze-like. The sun had already began its descent, the shadows seeming to grow a little more every block.
“What happens after dark?” Max asked.
“In the daytime, the whole city is a safe zone. That changes at night. Certain districts turn red. The Shingles, the Docks.”
The salty seawater air drifted up from the ocean at the city’s eastern side. There at the docks, ships put out to sea, on a merchant voyage to sell new wares, or off to a secret fishing spot to fill their slimy holds. Max couldn’t see the water himself, but the strong marine smell was a good indicator that it was close. Every now and then, an alley would open up, wider than the others, and Max would catch a glimpse of a giant gold dome or limestone tower, rising high above all the other buildings. The city was like a warren, however, and the sight was gone before Max could really tell what he was looking at.
Eventually, they emerged onto a wider street, at the boundary of what was clearly a different district. Though old, the buildings here were both larger and straighter, well-maintained and not as rickety. The street was better lit, as well, with lamps and windows fighting the growing darkness. Flags hung across the buildings, bearing sigils of different shapes and colors.
In fact, as they crossed the wide avenue, Max was struck by how much more open and enjoyable this way through the city was. He didn’t understand why Entrails had brought him through the confusing and apparently dangerous Shingles district. He was about to say something, but the warrior spoke up first.
“Come on. We’re almost there.”
“You ever going to tell me where you’re taking me or do I have to ask?”
Entrails grunted. “To an inn. It’s nothing fancy, but I know the owner.”
A few cobblestone side streets later, they arrived at an old but proud-looking building, with a peaked roof over its fourth floor overhangs. The timber frame was rich and dark, while the plaster in-between was colored a faded yellow. A deck wrapped around half of the third floor, while rows of wood framed windows lined the walls. In front of some, garden beds grew vibrant greens and bright flowers. Vines grew wild around the building’s corners and cracks, but it was clearly manicured. Stone steps led to a modest front door of dark oak, while above it swung a sign painted with the silhouette of a dog sitting on a bed.
When Entrails began tying up his ostrich at the hitching post outside, Max raised an eyebrow. Still, he followed Entrails’ lead and hitched his own mount to the post. “We don’t have any dogs, last I checked,” he said, referring to the building’s sign.
“Heh,” Entrails snorted. “I keep telling Nesto he needs to change that, but he never listens.”
After their mounts were both hitched snugly, Max and Entrails opened the door and walked into the inn—where they were promptly met with a jolly booming voice.
“Visitors? Visitors! Come in, come in! Welcome to the Magnificent Dog! Have some mead, some ale, some wine, all three! Sate your thirst, fill your bellies, get some news! And don’t forget about my special no-bake cookies! They are all the rage from here to—” As soon as the stocky, bearded innkeep rounded the corner and laid eyes upon the newcomers, he stopped mid-sentence. “Entrails?” he blinked.
“Hello again, old friend,” said the warrior.
When the introductions had been made (“Pleasure! I’m Nestorian Prelaz, but call me Nesto,” the innkeep had said), Nesto led them into the common room of the his inn. Here, dark timber beams lined the walls, stretching upwards into that high peaked roof Max had seen outside. Leaded glass panels were set into the plaster walls, allowing enough evening light in to create a warm, natural atmosphere. Myles noticed a staircase leading to the upper floors, likely where the rented rooms were kept.
The three then sat in a table of the middle of the room, as Nesto ordered a few ales from his messy-haired barhand. Other tables were arranged throughout the room—though currently empty and quiet, Max had to admit the Magnificent Dog was actually quite lovely. When he said as much to Nesto, the innkeep beamed with pride.
“You’re lucky Entrails knows me, and not my cousin Bardo,” Nesto said. “His inn has got dirt floors and flea-ridden mattresses! Not to mention his wife’s cooking… ah, here’s Kell.”
The barhand set down three overflowing mugs onto the table. “Please, don’t get the old man started,” said Kell. “He’ll soon have you convinced the Dog is the best inn in the whole kingdom!”
“How dare you!” said Nesto in mock-offense. “I'll have you know the Magnificent Dog is the best in all of Aletheia."
"Guess the secret's not out yet..." said Entrails., raising his eyebrows at the empty room.
“Bah! They just don't understand me. Nobody appreciates greatness until it's gone.”
"How do you expect to attract guests when your competition is literally named 'The Golden Pillow'?"
"That's an awful name! No character!"
"I keep telling uncle he should try a name with alliteration," said Kell. "You know, something snappy, like The Snoozing Snake."
"Good idea. The Drowsy Deer?" said Entrails.
"Terribly Tired Tiger?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Entrails. "I've got it. 'The Sleeping Beauty.' Now that sounds like a place you'd want to stay. Think about it. 'The Golden Pillow' versus 'The Magnificent Dog.' Easy choice. But 'The Golden Pillow' versus 'The Sleeping Beauty'?"
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"Hard choice," said Kell.
"The name will never change!" shouted Nesto, before quieting. "Not so long as I'm innkeep. Besides, you both know it's to honor Dusty."
"Who's Dusty?" asked Max.
"He is both my good friend and loyal companion..."
"He was uncle's dog," said Kell.
"Was? Is! Though Dusty passed of old age several years ago," said Nesto, "his ghost still haunts the inn. Some nights, he'll appear and sneak into someone's room to sleep at the foot of their bed. And believe it or not, in the morning, they'll have received a random buff for the day! Isn't that amazing?" The innkeep shook his head, getting a little misty eyed. "Magnificent in life, magnificent in death. That's Dusty."
"I'd figure something like that would be an attraction, honestly," said Max.
"Bah. Nobody cares about little world secrets like that anymore. These days? Everyone just wants more coin and more power." Nesto paused in thought. "Maybe they're worried about allergies... Do ghost dogs have dander?"
"I'll leave that for you lot to figure out," said Entrails. He finished the rest of his mug. "I'm beat. I already know the answer, but for tradition's sake... Nesto, do you have any rooms available?"
"Ah, that phrase, like music to my ears! Of course we do. Kell will take care of everything."
"C'mon," said Kell. "I'll get out the ledger and give you a key."
“Oh, maybe I—” Max began, wondering if he should follow.
"It's okay, let Entrails handle that. We have some things to discuss, you and I. Afterwards, you can retire to a room of your own."
"Um..." Max suddenly felt somewhat uneasy. He didn't really want to spend anything until he knew with certainty where his next coin would be coming from. Camping with Entrails had been free, but this was a far nicer inn than Rilliard's in Brix... he was worried about the expense. "If it's your cheapest, maybe. I'd also be happy with a mat in the attic, if you have one?"
"Yes, yes, don't worry about the details for now." Nesto smiled, an honest smile which seemed to pull his goatee into neat points. The innkeep peered at Max with his grey eyes, his expression kindly. "I'm sure it will all work out in the end. Wait here for just a moment." Nesto disappeared into a backroom, emerging soon after with what looked to be a leather case. He set the case on the table and pulled out a stack of papers and scrolls. He reached in again, his hand this time emerging with a few small wood and brass instruments. Then, Nesto retook his seat across from Max and rubbed his hands together. "How exciting! I love this part."
"I'm sorry, but..." Max stared at the stack of papers, the oddly shaped instruments. One looked like a large tack with a wide base, while the other was a long piece of wood with multiple holes drilled down its length. At one end, there was another sharp tack, but smaller than its standalone counterpart. To this point, Max had been able to rely on Entrails' experience, but now he felt completely lost. "What part, exactly?"
The innkeep talked as he continued to arrange his papers and instruments. "In the old days, all new Dasein first logged into an inn like this one. Those were the good times..." Nesto sounded wistful as he began to prepare his writing quill. "Before the backdoor spawns. Now, virtually all new Arrived are sent straight to the industries. It's not natural."
Max couldn't argue with that. However, the man had mentioned an unfamiliar word. "Did you say 'Dasein'?"
"Ah, yes. It's just a term we use for your kind. From the outer sphere." Nesto held out his arms to emphasize his point. "For us, it means 'honored one,' more or less. Old habits, I suppose..." He chuckled. "Anyways, since you didn't get a proper registration, I'm happy to provide one to you now. Should you accept, of course."
"I'm surprised you can do that." This innkeep was turning out to be much different than Rilliard, back in Brix Mines. While that innkeep spoke, behaved, and probably believed he was truly an innkeep, in comparison, Nesto of the Magnificent Dog seemed aware of his own nature.
"Well, it's not officially sanctioned, but us Official Innkeeps have a little room to operate. The powers benefitting our station allow for a little bending of the rules. And in your circumstance, I'd say they're more than worthy of bending! The ones who created the backdoor spawns don't even give you some core features. It's unspeakable."
"If I'm missing important things, then I suppose I should go through the process..."
"Great! It'll be quick and painless, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"First things first," said Nesto, ignoring Max's question, "is the matter of lodging. If you accept the Magnificent Dog Inn as your Home Inn, the Duchess subsidizes your room until level 20. For the record's sake, your level is...?"
"Uhh, almost two?"
"So, level one."
"Yeah... one."
"That is excellent news!" The innkeep scribbled in his book excitedly. "We will have so much time together!"
"Jeez uncle, give him some space," Kell teased, who'd just returned from seeing Entrails to his room. He turned to Max. "Sorry, we just haven't had any new Arrived for a long time. We're just happy to have you."
"No, it's fine... I had thought new players joined all the time."
"They used to. In the early days, this place was always packed... but things change. Like uncle said, very few follow the Old Path any more. You're all spawned into professions. All the worst ones."
"Luckily, you wouldn't be the first lost soul to wander into the doors of my inn! I can give you something that few others get. A fresh start. A rebirth! You just have to choose the Magnificent Dog as your Home Inn, and all will be taken care of!"
A message shimmered into place:
Select The Magnificent Dog as your Home Inn?
YES NO
Max thought about it for a moment, but Entrails hadn't steered him into trouble yet, and this Nesto seemed genuinely excited about having a new Arrived... or Dasein... or whatever they wanted to call him. He saw no reason to decline, so he pressed the YES button. "Sure, why not."
"Excellent! Then you're practically family!" Nesto squealed. "I vow to do everything in my power as Innkeeper to assist you. All my abilities and services are at your disposal! What an auspicious day!"
"You're not marrying him, uncle," said Kell.
"Hush! Didn't I say big things were coming? Didn't I?"
"Well yeah... but you were talking about the Meteor Day party tomorrow."
"So? I could've meant something greater!"
"Wait, guys, what party?" interrupted Max.
"Er, did Entrails really not mention anything?" Nesto rubbed his goatee in surprise. "Tomorrow is Meteor Day, the most important day in Aletheia. When the sun goes down and the stars appear... the most incredible meteor shower you could ever imagine lights up the sky, signaling the beginning of a new season."
"It really is the biggest day. The whole city turns into a joyous celebration, viewing parties everywhere."
"Including..." Nesto drummed his fingers upon the table. "The Magnificent Dog! It'll be one for the ages, lads. I'm happy that you could be a part of it, Max."
"Me too," said Max, and he meant it. For some reason, more than any other time in his life, this really had the feeling of a new beginning. "So, what's all this other stuff for?"
Nesto smiled when Max brought up the question, and Kell disappeared into the kitchen to give his uncle and Max privacy. "I'm glad you asked," said the innkeep, as he slid over the bronze platform with a sharp tack in the middle. "You saved me the awkward part of needing to bring it up first... Some Arrived don't take this part well. See, before we go any further, I'll need some of your blood from an open wound." He pointed toward the sharp, spike-like tack.
"I'm supposed to put my hand on there?"
"Oh no, just a thumb will do. Enough pressure to 'spring a leak'." Nesto chuckled at his own joke.
"This can't be normal."
"This is no necromancer's trick, I promise you. Think of it as a... verification step. These are your private details, we need to make sure you are you, and not somebody else who merely looks and talks like you. But the blood... now that is unique. The blood never lies."
Still, Max hesitated. He'd come to trust Entrails, but what did he really know about the man? And where was he now? It was possible this was all an elaborate scam, some long scheme which ended with Max shipped off to some wizard's lab as a test subject. Still, Max was reasonably confident in his intuition, and neither Entrails or Nesto had given him any reason to distrust them.
The pointed end of the tack was thin as a needle, which thickened and fanned out towards the bottom. The entire instrument was made of brass, but aside from a sun-like symbol stamped into the sides, it was quite plain. Max slowly reached out, hovering his thumb above it.
Before he could overthink any longer, Max drove the flesh of his thumb onto the spike. He winced as a few drops of blood immediately welled and ran down the instrument. When they reached the brass base, the blood disappeared, as if absorbed by the metal. Max frowned. That was curious.
Across the table, Nesto the Innkeep grinned.