As the hour of the sun's death arrived, with the bloody landscape before their eyes, behind the high walls guarded by sentinels that the crimson sphere hid, lay the capital of the Solaris Empire. That which would be the home of so many mysteries awaited them.
The hooded prince, astride the dark steed, moved ahead, positioning himself in front of them.
– "Welcome to the Solaris Empire, Hyacinth Flower. We hope you save many and do not perish with them. May those chronicles kept in the royal archives remember your name." –
– "Wow…" – Sylvan murmured, unable to look away.
The capital rose before him like a tall mountain. The walls, high and pale with moss growing in their cracks. Under the sun, they loomed over him like an impenetrable fortress. From there, the towers shimmered and the distant murmur of the city reached him like a whisper.
He had imagined this place a thousand times during the journey, but now that it was before him, everything he had believed fell short.
– "We are going towards the main gate, Your Majesty, don't forget to put your hood up. You too, Hyacinth." –
After donning their cloaks, the three approached the city gates. The great gates towered over them; to see the top, Sylvan had to crane his neck, he estimated they were about 10 meters tall.
As they got closer to the great gates, a long line stretched into the distance. It contained both carriages and people on foot or horseback.
– "What a long line, at this rate the sun will rise again before we manage to get in…" – murmured the young herbalist.
But instead of heading towards the line, the horse continued walking straight towards the gate, ignoring all those waiting to enter. While receiving glares of fury, they reached the great gate, where they were stopped by the guards guarding it.
– "Hey, haven't you seen the line? You can't skip it, even if you're in a hurry you have to join it like everyone else." – said the younger of the guards irritably.
Before the guard could continue reprimanding them, Aleus, hooded, pulled out a plaque and showed it to the guard captain. His eyes wide as saucers, the captain stepped closer to look at the plaque, and at that moment he paled.
– "T-th-that's a royal plaque" – he stammered – "Get out of the way and let them pass! Forgive our rudeness, my lord, please go through and may you have a pleasant stay in the capital." – said the Guard Captain while pushing the young guard aside and bowing.
With a look of self-satisfaction, the blue-haired knight's chestnut steed led the way into the capital, while the prince's elegant black horse followed.
Having now dismounted the horses and using reins to guide them, they approached the bustling main street.
For Sylvan, the noise of the street was a torrent: voices, cart wheels on the cobblestones, the cry of a vendor offering fruits, the neigh of an impatient horse. At that moment, a cart passed so close it almost brushed his cloak.
He unconsciously quickened his pace.
—Is it always this crowded here? —he asked in a low voice, not really sure to whom.
He had imagined the capital as an imposing place, but he hadn't thought it could also feel so... cramped. Space was scarce, so much so that a cart almost brushed his cloak. Voices echoed loudly in his head, stunning the young man, making him feel overwhelmed with every step he took.
This did not escape the prince's attention. Seeing his discomfort before such a crowd, he took him by the arm, leading him to a more secluded place.
– "I apologize, I hadn't considered that crowds might discomfort you. There is a place nearby we need to go to, but it is no problem for us to choose a less crowded route." –
– "It's alright, you had no way of knowing. I'm not used to being surrounded by so many people; in the forest or while accompanying my teacher on her errands, I didn't have to endure so many people," – said Sylvan with embarrassment.
– "I think you've spent too much time in the forest; from what I see, trees aren't good conversation partners," – commented Aleus with a straight face.
At that moment, Sariel shot a withering look at his knight, silencing him.
– "Changing the subject, what do we do now?" – asked the novice healer.
– "We have to go settle a debt, and then we will return to the palace," – responded Sariel.
Taking paths away from the crowded main street, they managed to reach their destination, which was an antique shop whose sign was already worn out. On it was written The Crypt of Secrets.
Upon entering, they were greeted by the tinkling of a bell, followed by a glance from the old receptionist, who was behind the counter.
– "Welcome, is there something I can help you with?" – he asked in a calm voice.
– "Yes," – replied the prince – "We are looking for Crowley."
– "I see," – responded the old man, fixing his eyes on them and coming out from behind the counter. – "You may come through, follow me." – And so, they went down to the basement, and at that moment the old man pulled on an oil lamp on the wall, and from it emerged a secret passage. – "Go straight ahead, you are expected at the end. I will take care of your horses," – the shopkeeper commented for the last time before returning to the shop.
– "Guys, are you sure this is safe and we aren't being kidnapped or something?" – commented Sylvan with a nervous chuckle.
– "Don't worry, this is safe. It's not our first time coming through here. The owner is a bit dramatic and likes to have secret entrances, but he's not a bad person," – responded Sariel.
The trio followed the dimly lit passage until they reached a closed metal door. Sariel raised his hand and knocked on the surface with his knuckles. The echo of the metal reverberated in the silent passage.
– "Passwoooord~~" – exclaimed a mischievous voice from the other side of the door.
Sylvan blinked twice in confusion – "Is this normal?" – he asked.
– "Unfortunately, yes. I told you the owner was eccentric," – the prince replied with a sigh.
Resigned, Sariel knocked on the door again, this time with a deliberate rhythm.
– "Password correct~~" – and so the door opened, and inside they saw an office that reflected the owner's personality: messy, warm, and a bit eccentric.
Papers, maps, and scrolls were piled on the desk, along with mugs of cocoa and small golden lamps that illuminated the corners of the room. Posters of adventurers covered the walls, while little figurines of dragons and wizards were displayed on the shelves. In one corner, a small table held snacks: dried fruits, rolls, and cheeses, ready for anyone who wanted to try them. A plush carpet covered the floor, and a comfortable pouf invited one to sit in a corner, completing the cozy and somewhat chaotic air of the place.
– "What a surprise, if it isn't my favorite costumers! How was your journey? Did my information serve you well?" – At that moment he noticed the unknown third guest – "Seems like it went well. Who might you be, my dear stranger? You can know me as Crowley, seller of secrets, collector of rumors, and master of the art of acquiring what others don't even know exists. Philanthropist on my good days, secret agent when the occasion requires, charmer of ladies by pure habit, and, modesty aside, the best listener in the entire city. If you want information… well, let's just say I know where to find it, how to wrap it, and, most importantly, how to charge for it with style," – exclaimed a man lounging in a chair.
The man looked young with abundant, dark brown hair with red streaks distributed in layers. Part of his fringe covered his right eye, whose color was golden like gold; the other eye was dark blue, with the tone of the deep sea. He wore a black suit of an old-fashioned cut, with precise lines and folds that gave him an air of elegance. The collar and cuffs were red, breaking the sobriety of the ensemble, and he wore white gloves with them. Long trousers completed the outfit, balancing distinction and an eccentric touch that fit his lively gaze and mischievous smile.
Sylvan blinked a couple of times, still digesting Crowley's extravagant presentation, when something caught his attention beside the man. A ghostly figure floated there, almost transparent, with the palm of its hand pressed against its nose in a gesture of exasperation as it sighed with evident weariness.
Crowley followed Sylvan's gaze, his gold and blue eyes sweeping over the apparition. Then he looked back at him directly, with a wide, mischievous smile.
—"So you can see them too" —he said, as if that were the most normal thing in the world.