He slowly began to approach the gate, trudging through the thick, ankle-deep snow as though it might bring him to his knees. The warm fire of a torch soon became visible against the wide steel portcullis covering the city’s entrance, roped up to an unseen knight or servant in the chamber above. Tips of arrows peeked out the windows at him.

“Who’s sent you?” the knight before the gate groaned. He wore a set of steel armor with a flat, faceless helm that indicated his lower status. Two small eyes peered out at him from two expressionless holes upon the front.

“M-myself. I’m… traveling.” His voice shook with a chill.

The knight hesitated. “Migrants have to wait until the morning. I'm sorry.”

“Do I look like a…" He glanced at his own coat. "Dammit. I don't have citizenship, but—"

“I can't help you, friend. I'm sorry."

Cedric scoffed with a retort in mind—but he paused as a whisper seeped forward instead.

“Maybe this will work in place of citizenship?” he said as he drew forth his red crystal.

The knight flinched just before the crystal overpowered his mind. He stood for a long moment without a word, then finally declared, “Just a moment.”

With a wave to the windows above, the gate finally began to move.

Cedric slid the crystal back into his chestpiece. “I appreciate it.”

And with the gate open, he was free to wander the sleepy streets of the quiet city.

And the quiet, indeed, was pervasive. There were no figures amongst the cobbled streets, no lights in the windows of the stone homes; not even clouds of smoke from lit chimneys appeared in the starry sky.

He cleared his throat after a while of wandering, “How did you do that, exactly?”

“That trick on the guard? Matter of fact, until recently you only worked by making promises, I thought.”

“I thought you were immortal, all-powerful beings?”

“Then, what, I would have boundless power in your reality, as well?”

“Such as?”

He scowled, tucking his face back beneath his collar as he wandered into the city’s square. A frozen well sat before the grandiose white and gold building that was surely the city hall, with carved pillars and marble statues of lifelike men and women to hold up its curving roof. The lights were out, as they were in the rest of the town. Colored banners that were once strung up over the roads and paths had fallen into the dirt and into the well.

“It’s a festival, then. Banners like that: red, gold, green… Some kind of elven holiday…”

Serkukan did not reply.

His eyes traced a statue of Kasian, a man made of marble wearing an onyx mask, a black jacket. Nobody knew if the depiction here was accurate, but that statue was all they knew of him. Their so-called 'leader of the world'...

Neither of them spoke while he admired the statue. When he turned away, Serkukan continued, to Cedric’s surprise.

“I have.”

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“No. Not there. And if you can see inside my mind, you already know why.” He scowled.

It was quiet again as he traveled down the path through the stone homes with wooden panels keeping their windows shut from the draft. And not much further, a torch mounted upon a tavern wall sated his curiosity, and he discovered a not-so-impressive wooden sign labeled Royal Knight, Tavern & Inn.

He pushed through the gentle door and immediately, a warm, welcoming light swamped his body in heat.

And, indeed, it seemed that some population of the city yet lived. A group of Hunters mingled here with a group of steel-plated knights, clacking their mugs together with tankards and making loud celebrations.

He softly exhaled relief and made his way to the bar.

“What’ll it be?” a gruff-looking man with greyish skin and a dark beard greeted him.

“Something warm. And cheap.” He crossed his arms on the counter and placed his chin atop them.

The man nodded and turned away, quickly returning with a tankard. “Three swords.”

He emptied his stolen coin purse onto the counter. Three swords rolled out.

Cedric raised his tankard with a sarcastic murmur, “To Hunters.”

“To Hunters.” the barkeep replied, moving down the bar.

Cedric took a hearty swig from the tankard. “Guess I won't have anything to eat...”

“Don’t worry friend, it’s on me.” A man threw his arm around Cedric’s shoulder, pulled him close enough to smell his ale-soaked breath.

Cedric scanned the man to assure that he was merely a drunk knight. “Thanks. I’ll owe you one. Unless you accept tongues.”

The man missed his aside, continuing to slur his words, “Don’t worry about it. I'm sure you traveled a long way, and didn't hear about the curfew, neither.”

Cedric cocked his head, admiring the copper-colored gambeson upon the freckled man’s toned body. He raised his tankard to his lips. “Suppose not.”

"Our command is scared of those dragons." He grinned. "A couple of oversized birds, I'll bet."

Cedric lowered his head into his drink. The warmth from the hearth seemed to grow hotter as the ale worked its magic. “What day is it?”

“T… Twelvth… Twentieth… Twentieth of Hammerache!”

“Is it a holiday? I couldn't help but notice the tapestries outside.”

“Ahh, I could tell you weren’t from around here!” He smirked, nudging Cedric. “Yllvismin. Or Yilvisim. No, no, I had it right the first time. It’s elvish. I think. You’d have to ask one of 'em to translate it, but we celebrate it monthly. Supposed to be our way of repaying our citizens for being so supportive to our Hunter-state. Give ‘em a bit of joy in times of this Sylvet piss.”

"Sounds like you bastardized the actual holiday…”

The knight misunderstood again, “Now you’re getting it! Barkeep, another round over here!”

The barkeep replaced Cedric's empty tankard just as quickly as he had placed it down, and Cedric raised it once again.

“So what brings you to Cromer?” the knight spoke between burps, “It’s the women, right? Something about the ones in armor…”

“I’m just passing through.” Cedric cut him off.

“Not one for conversation, huh? Just let me know if I’m bothering you, I’ll be right out of here.”

“Actually, I—”

“Tor.” came a sudden command from the door. They both turned to face a woman in traditional casvian garb: a blue dress that only covered one side of a woman’s armor, revealing the steel plate underneath on the opposite side. The short black hair over her tan forehead and squared face bounced up and down as she approached them.

“See what I mean?” he winked at Cedric.

“You’re supposed to be on duty at the keep.”

“Well, you see, I can explain—”

Her face showed no sign of interest.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He stood. “Sorry, friend, we’ll have to resume this conversation another time. Duty calls.”

Cedric half-heartedly waved goodbye as they quickly evacuated the tavern. He turned back and smirked at the empty counter before him. That bastard never bought my food.

With another trick of the Relistar, he found himself well fed and made his way up the stairs and into one of the many rooms. It was a much nicer place than Kilren's, with cerulean walls and twelve golden tapestries representing the twelve sigils of Kasian's oligarchy. Cedric lingered for a long time on a sigil that was just a circle, one half light, and one half dark.

Then he tossed down his satchel and stripped his gear free, leaned his sword beside the bed with the hilt pointed up at him. "I'm not going to get attacked again, am I?"

"Good enough. If the Hunters are still looking for me… well, it’s not like I’m some kind of fugitive." he dropped onto the wide blue bed in the center of the room. The airy mattress almost seemed to suck him in, and within seconds, he was fast asleep.

The Relistar began to glow again from within his discarded jacket as the night continued to crawl by…

*