Kai made sure the beastkin settled before he left. Half of them wanted the glowing caverns, where Flow's streams shimmered like rivers of starlight. The rest were content in the residential district, where stone houses with carved burrows and perch-towers waited.
Among them was a boy named Gren, a wolf cub with soft ears and a restless tail. He was only fifteen, but already sharp-eyed. Kai found himself smiling despite the weight on his shoulders.
"Return safely, mister," Gren said, tail twitching.
"Always," Kai promised.
---
The road stretched north until Vorath filled the horizon. Its sprawl rose like a wound stitched with splendor: gold-tiled roofs gleaming atop white-salt cliffs, smoke from iron forges curling into the sky, bazaars packed so tight the streets moved like rivers of flesh. Noble palaces shone like polished teeth while the slums below festered in darkness. Sewage spilled into open canals, its stench mingling with incense from temples. Vampire servants glided through the crowds, bearing goods for their masters, while mercenaries hawked their swords to any who could pay.
The sound was relentless—haggling, hammers striking steel, preachers crying out prophecies, children scavenging scraps. Vorath lived on contrast: beauty hammered against filth, ambition balanced on rot.
Daniel muttered, "It smells worse than it looks."
Kai tugged his cloak tighter. "That's saying something."
Before long, armored guards approached, spears gleaming, eyes cold.
"Fanged one," their captain barked. "The king summons you. Now."
Kai inclined his head, and he and Daniel followed.
---
The castle crowned the highest cliff, its gates carved from saltstone reinforced with gold. Inside, the Great Hall was a cavern of banners and firelight. At its center lounged the king—a grotesque figure swollen with jewels pressed into his green-gold skin. His throat sac bulged and glowed faintly whenever he croaked, a seer's resonance humming with each word.
"Ah, Fanged One," the king rasped, voice echoing off stone. "You build without permission. But I am merciful. I have conditions. Teach us about glass that bends light, and wheat that does not rot. Give me these, and I will allow your monster nation."
Kai bowed low, his words smooth. "That can be arranged."
The king's yellow eyes gleamed, bulging as though they drank his future. For an instant Kai felt seen—too deeply.
---
When the audience ended, something skittered across Kai's back. Velnix detached, shadow and legs, slipping down his arm before vanishing into the corridors.
Kai hissed, "Where are you going?!" and chased. Daniel followed, wary.
The trail led them to a broad chamber lined with parchment, weapons, and a crest: scales crossed with a sword. The Adventurers' Guild.
Behind the counter, a clerk glanced up, unimpressed. Kai dropped a satchel of ore and coin onto the desk. Gold gleamed, catching the firelight.
"I want to sign up as an adventurer," Kai said. "And more than that—can we establish a guild branch in Nepthuren?"
The clerk blinked, then laughed incredulously. "A guild? In some backwater? That's impossible—" His voice cut short when he peeked into the satchel. His jaw slackened.
Daniel smirked. "Money talks."
The clerk snapped his fingers, ushering Kai into a back room. There, among ledgers and contracts, negotiations spilled out. "If this were converted," the clerk muttered, weighing the metals, "you'd be holding… five hundred thousand in gold"
Kai leaned back, calm. "Enough to prove I'm serious?"
The clerk swallowed. "More than enough. We'll arrange papers. Expedite them."
By the time they joined the caravan south, Vorath's smoke was already behind them. The road gleamed under moonlight, wagons creaking as they rolled toward Nepthuren. Daniel was quiet, his eyes distant, but there was a curl of satisfaction on his lips.
The guild clerk traveling with them—Ferrin, a man with ink-stained fingers and the air of someone who trusted ledgers more than people—kept muttering into his beard. "A guild… in that place. Impossible. You'd need coin, order, contracts. Not huts and scavengers." He gave Kai a sidelong glance. "Rumors float even in Vorath, you know. Strange tales. Bread that doesn't turn sour in a day. Windows you can see through. Nonsense."
Kai said nothing. He only smiled faintly, letting the road speak for him.
---
When Nepthuren's walls came into sight, Ferrin's breath hitched. He expected timber palisades, maybe mud ramparts. Instead, smooth stone and concrete rose high, reinforced with glowing sigils that shimmered faintly as the sun dipped. They looked less like village walls and more like something out of forgotten ages.
"Those… those aren't mud bricks," Ferrin stammered. "Gods, that's proper masonry. Magic wards. Do you know what Vorath charges for a single slab like that?"
Inside, the city unfurled like a secret long kept.
Aqueducts ran across the district—arched stone channels carrying crystal-clear water into basins. Ferrin gawked as humans filled buckets without trudging to rivers. Children splashed in mist that cooled the air. "Aqueducts," he whispered. "Only Ylsbane scholars still toy with such things… how?"
The caravan pressed on, and Ferrin nearly tripped when he saw the windmill. Its arms turned steadily in the breeze, grinding wheat into flour as farmers cheered. "Wind… powering stone? Without oxen? Impossible."
---
Glowhollow's cavern opened below, glowing like a second sky. Resonance lanterns hung in clusters, fed by Flow's shimmering essence. Terraced mushroom farms spread across the rock face, harvested by goblins humming work-songs. Kippers darted on rope bridges, their tiny voices calling formations as they trained.
Ferrin clutched the edge of the railing. "They're… organized. Kippers are supposed to break, to scatter. But here—look at them!"
A howl carried through the cavern, low and guttural. Ferrin turned just in time to see werewolves of the Hollow Howl tribe dragging a deer carcass to market, exchanging it for sacks of flour. No one screamed. No one fled. Trade was trade.
Above, beastkin perched on towers carved for wings and tails. Wolfkin lounged on balconies, birdkin stretched their feathers against the wind, stagkin sat beneath doorways carved with antler sigils.
"You built for them," Ferrin muttered, incredulous. "In Vorath, they sleep in gutters, chained as curiosities. And here—they have homes."
Kai shrugged. "If you want loyalty, you build properly."
---
The marketplace was alive with noise. Goblins bartered alongside humans, beastkin offered carved trinkets, and kippers darted between stalls carrying messages.
Then Ferrin saw it.
On one stall, fresh loaves sat steaming, their crusts golden, the scent wafting warm and rich. A goblin boy tore a piece and grinned, steam rising in the cool air.
Ferrin froze, throat working. "Bread. Not flat cakes… real bread. By the gods. I thought—no, I heard whispers, but I thought it was tavern talk." His eyes darted to Kai. "You've done what even Vorath bakers can't."
"Just yeast and patience," Kai said casually.
Ferrin ignored him, rushing toward a nearby window. The shopfront gleamed with panes of smooth, translucent glass. The sunlight caught in it, throwing sharp glimmers onto the stone.
His mouth opened, then closed again. "Glass… not shards, not baubles. Whole panes." He pressed trembling fingers against it. "Rumors, just rumors. The nobles hoard scraps, and you—you put it in shops?"
Daniel smirked, arms folded. "Told you it wasn't nonsense."
---
That night, Kai brought Ferrin to the bathhouse. Wizards reclined in steaming pools, their expressions blissful as mana crystals glowed beneath the water, warming it without a single log of firewood.
Ferrin staggered back, clutching his ledger like it might shield him. "Heated baths. Without fuel. Do you realize—no, of course you do. You've reinvented comforts even Vorath's royals can't afford."
Flow's lake rippled nearby, glowing faintly. The spirit herself rose, a figure of water shaped by will, eyes soft but sharp.
Ferrin dropped his satchel, knees buckling. "A spirit… not bound, but speaking. And you—walk beside it?"
"I chose them," Flow said simply. "Nepthuren is mine as much as theirs."
Ferrin's lips trembled. He scribbled into his ledger with frantic strokes, as if afraid the vision might vanish.
---
In the morning, Ferrin saw more than his quill could keep up with.
Resonance-powered looms spinning goblin furs into cloth. Kippers sparring under alarm nets woven of glowing silk. Children playing Snakes and Ladders while wizards argued over Uno. Beastkin perched on rooftops while humans hauled stone for new towers.
Everywhere Ferrin turned, he saw what Vorath had dismissed as impossible.
At last he faced Kai, words shaking out of him. "I thought I was coming to a backwater. Bread and glass were gossip, the kind nobles mocked. But here… here they're alive. Gods above, Nepthuren isn't just real—it's ahead of us."
Kai's smile was sharp, but his voice was steady. "Now you understand why the guild matters. Recognition buys time. And time is survival."
Ferrin exhaled slowly, eyes still sweeping the city. "If Vorath learns what I've seen, they'll covet it. Or burn it."
Daniel's golden eyes flickered. "Then let them try."
Ferrin hugged his ledger close, like scripture. "Nepthuren… I'll see your charter through. I'd be a fool not to."
The city hummed around them, alive with resonance and laughter, a place born from Kai's reckless hands and stubborn vision.
And for the first time, Ferrin felt the weight of rumor turn into truth.