Our adventurers stumble away from the narrow path on the hillside, covered in thorns and blood. Cenvin mutters a tirade of curses, most directed at Nyri.

“Why are you being mad at her? She got us here in record time,” Durand interrupts his quiet cursing. He points to the valley below. “Look.”

A colossal celestial-like presence is nestled comfortably in a vast expanse of grassy green fields. Italica City looms overwhelmingly. To the East, the direction the party came from, is the dense forest. In the north is an extensive lake, known for its magical properties that dye the water a muddy brown, Lake Rust. In the east is a stretching river flowing from Lake Rust into the ocean, dubbed by the cityfolk as Cityside Delta. The primary farmlands are laid around the waters, drawing magical energy from the river to supplement the crops. In the south, the sparkling waters of the Verridor Sea dance entrancingly with mystic unknown creatures among them.

Italica City itself is a city of towers; most parts of the city are comprised of skyscrapers that pierce the black sky itself. Due to this, they are known as Skytowers. The sunshine glints off the carefully painted roofs of those towers, joining the radiant lights from the four main streets that run through the city. Circular walls provide the city with impenetrable defense. The four massive streets run through the city in a straight line, forming a cross; at the center intersection stands the tallest Skytower: the Citadel. Headquarters of the Skywatch, the city guards, and the primary governing body of the Kingdom of Italica. Corruption is as exotic as an “average day.” In Italica City, every hour will see new caravans trading goods and countryside peasants seeking new opportunities.

The North sector houses the upper class and the Royalty. Exquisite parties are often hosted, but despite commoners being allowed to freely access the sector they are locked out from any businesses and services. This generation of the Royalty sees Queen Bethaza, a popular and worthy Royal, focusing on more public services than military might. A wise decision in a time of peace. She commissioned wizards to develop Hyperslates - a floating disc that serves as a modern-day elevator to transport citizens easily up and down Skytowers.

The East sector is the prime mercantile utopia. Large-scale trade is the proud signature of the sector. Almost every good known to the world is exchanged here. However, dark-haired children are famously banned here, due to a traditional belief held by merchants across Italica that black-headed youths are the most immature, and thus the most prone to criminal activities such as thieving.

Cenvin nervously pulls up his hood.

The West and South sectors are comprised of more residential areas than the other two. This is where the bulk of the population lives and thrives. They are the closest sectors to the farmlands outside the city and also the coast, where the Verridor Sea provides a surplus of various sea life that are known for their taste.

Durand breathes, “The tutorial is over.”

Forgetting his antagonized attitude, Cenvin sits down and bathes in the magnificence of the city. Nyri, tired and fulfilled, makes herself comfortable in Cenvin’s lap. He jolts with surprise and instinct to kick her, but he smiles and cradles her slowly. Her smooth, glowing form feels solid yet liquid.

“You don’t seem that bad all of a sudden,” he comments. Then, he quickly adjusts himself. “Of course, you’re not the best feline I’ve seen(last campaign’s Lumi is far superior), but as a companion NPC, you do your job. Also, you’re definitely shrunk from the last chapter. There’s no shot I’m hallucinating this.”

Nyri gently purrs.

“Just admit you like her now,” Durand says, still taking in Italica City’s grandiose.

Nyri lets out a soft purr and glances up seductively. Cenvin immediately stands and sends her shrieking off the hill. Evaporating into orbs and then reforming herself beside Durand, she hisses and lowers her head, shaking as if laughing. Cenvin draws his two shortswords. Durand peels his eyes off Italica City and looks at Cenvin’s blades with a spark of thought. Cenvin turns.

“Diem! Roll Initiatives! I’m going to throw this kitty off a cliff!”

You’ll get pummeled and I don’t feel like fighting after introducing you guys to this beautiful city of mine, so how about I do both of us a favor and just skip to you guys entering the city gate?

“Sure,” Durand quickly interrupts Cenvin.

The adventurers arrive at the Eastern gate. Caravans and merchants idly enter and exit. A small holdup at the gates causes a line of wagons carrying trade goods to stack up. Durand and Cenvin enter the line. Nearby, two traders shout at each other, faces red. Nyri slips and weaves through the jungle of wheels and feet, occasionally giving way to a stomp by splashing into liquid.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Cenvin notices and asks, “Hey Nyri, how come no one’s freaking out about you?”

Nyri gives him a stare, as if saying, dumbass.

“Oh,” he says in realization.

Eventually, the adventurers walk to the front of the line, where guards briefly check everyone’s luggage. One of those guards makes eye contact with Durand and breaks away from his work to meet him. They embrace like close friends. Cenvin is on the side, face covered by his hood.

“Sam! Good to see you again!” Durand shakes his hand with a broad smile.

“Sir, it’s a pleasure!” Sam chuckles. “Where have you been? Miss Redna missed those game you often bought back from the forest.” Durand jolts with this dose of canonical backstory. “You’ve bought a friend, too! Please, go ahead through the gate. Speaking of your friend, though…”

Cenvin flinches. Sam steps back.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. He just seemed to resemble someone we were searching for. Cenvin the Dishonest. He’s a wanted criminal around these parts. Please go to the Citadel if you have information on him.”

“Yep! This is my friend, Jonathan! He’s a bit queer sometimes, so please, forgive him. We will be on our way now,” Durand hastily adds. Sam bows and walks to greet a merchant trying to sneak through the gates.

Durand drags Cenvin quickly through the gates into the city. Nyri casually follows.

“Cenvin the Dishonest? What the hell did you do here?”

“I’m a rogue, what did you expect my backstory to be?”

“You’ve never told me you’re a regular around these parts, too! Just back at the hill were you groveling at the sight of Italica City!”

“So were you! Did you not feel the deep emotions that you feel when you finally see the sight of your long-lost home? We should focus on finding whoever the Wandering wants us to find to heal Brett, okay?”

“This place is huge! How are we going to find anyone?”

“Nyri probably knows!”

Nyri raises her two paws like a shrug.

“That’s alright. Let’s look around. I say we look for a smithy.”

“Why always a smithy?”

“Why not? We can get weapons at a smithy, is that a good enough reason?”

“Speaking of weapons-”

Cenvin babbles on, “Armor! Equipment! All at a smithy! A smithy is the greatest possible store to exist! Surely you see the importance of them?”

“Fine, let’s find a smithy,” Durand rolls his eyes.

Nyri perks up and yelps joyfully. Cenvin looks at her with thought.

“You know where to find a smithy?” Nyri nods. “Hell, let’s go then!”

“Sorry, we got no magic items, or whatever you’re looking fora’,” the blacksmith says.

He turns around to go into the forge. A massive flame leaps from a young apprentice’s furnace and he hurries over, accidentally leaving the door ajar. Upon seeing it, a defeated Cenvin goes 180 and a villainous spark glows in his eyes. Durand pulls him back before he can get to the door.

“Remember why you’re a wanted criminal?” He whispers urgently. Cenvin shakes him off.

“Just a little snatch here and there. Nothing major, I promise,” he sneaks into the forge. Durand and Nyri patiently wait outside.

“He is so going to get into trouble, might as well prepare,” Durand mutters. With an incantation and a flick of mistletoe, ten small plump berries materialize in his hand. Nyri sniffs her nose and looks at Durand adorably, begging for a taste.

Durand shakes his head, “No. These are for healing Cenvin.”

Nyri bows down her head, depressed. Her tail loses a bit of its glow and droops. Little tears form in her eyes and falls to the ground. Durand tries to ignore her.

A clash and a clang, Cenvin stumbles out of the forge, covered in stab marks and slash wounds, and falls to the ground. Durand throws him the

Goodberries, which he hungrily devours.

“There was a Gifted guy,” Cenvin rasps. “He was molding weapons out of blocks of silver. I asked for one. He denied. I killed him.”

Durand rolls his eyes, “‘Nothing major,’” he quotes. “My ass. Anyway, let’s get out of here. Maybe find a tavern for sustenance and rest.”

As they make their retreat the blacksmith rushes out, yelling for the Skywatch.

“Guards, murder! Murder in daylight!”

Cenvin smiles jeeringly.

1st tavern, they were kicked out after Cenvin tried to pickpocket one of the patrons.

2nd tavern, they were thrown out after Cenvin attempted to stab the bartender.

3rd tavern, they were evicted after Cenvin was caught using his ability to steal wine.

At the fourth tavern, Durand and Cenvin walk in. The air is chilly. Night has fallen and many men are drinking their day’s fatigues away. Cenvin tries to say something, but one look from both Durand and Nyri stops him. As Durand prepares to speak to the barkeeper about a room, Cenvin trips and messes up a group of tough-looking men’s card games. They stand up, enraged. Cenvin, not sorry and brandishing his weapons, begins yelling curses and fighting words. Durand tackles him to the ground and they escape the bar, which has plunged into a full-on brawl behind them.

In the middle of East Street under the night sky, Durand lets out a shrilling scream that echoes through the air, making it even chillier.

“WHYYYYYYYYYY?”