A pleasant wind drifted through the streets as the group wandered through the city enclosed within the Exousia walls. After asking a local, they learned the city was called Niktha.
They moved slowly along the streets, taking in everything. Modest houses stacked one on top of the other, lined both sides of the road, standing shoulder to shoulder in neat rows. Most of the buildings shared the same grey stone, built in an almost identical fashion, with windows appearing every few meters. Some even had small platforms jutting out beneath the windows, crude balconies where people stood to talk or watch the street below.
For the five of them, all raised in villages, the sight was fascinating. The idea that so many people could live stacked beside one another like this felt strange, almost uncomfortable. In their homes back in the villages, lodgings had space to breathe. Here, walls were often shared between two houses.
They passed several other recruits wandering about like themselves. A few greetings were exchanged, names traded, and short conversations sparked before each group drifted apart again. One thing quickly became clear. Everyone had been put in buildings just like theirs.
Though no one compared the exact conditions, the shared expressions said enough. Each recruit carried the same quiet disgust about their quarters.
As they continued walking, a cart rattled past them, piled high with Ava cream buns.
Midia's eyes locked onto the tray instantly. She followed the cart with a very desperate longing, her mouth watering slightly at the memory of the sweet bun they had eaten earlier.
Vinelyn noticed and laughed out loud.
He dug into his pouch, pulling out a few Arivy coins and grinning. "Thank the Magic I had some left."
Before anyone could stop him, he jogged after the cart. A short exchange later, he returned carrying three warm buns.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I could only afford three. Midia, you take one. Riche… Mihel… maybe you two can share one?"
He handed them over quickly before anyone could protest. Then he split the last bun in half and offered a piece to Halise.
Mihel and Riche accepted theirs with small bows of gratitude, which Vinelyn dismissed with an embarrassed wave.
"Just make sure you buy me something to eat later on," he said, laughing.
The group fell into blissful silence as they bit into the buns. The cream buns burst across their tongues, and for a few moments all worries dissolved beneath the simple joy of good food.
Mihel finished his share slowly, savouring the last bite.
'Kidt wasn't exaggerating… these things are dangerously addictive.'
The sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting long orange streaks across the city. Soon they noticed figures moving along the streets. Soldiers in black coats bearing the Exousia insignia walked methodically from post to post, lighting the lanterns that lined the roads.
One by one, golden lights bloomed along the streets like a chain of miniature suns, casting a soft glow on the path. It was truly a beautiful sight to see the streets lit up under the starry sky.
As they wandered further, the group tried to memorize the layout of the city, quietly marking landmarks they might need later.
Eventually they reached a wide square where several roads converged. At its centre stood a tall stone statue.
It was the Founder.
The figure rose proudly above them, carved with solemn authority, cloak flowing behind his stone shoulders. The five of them stopped and stared up at it. Head held high, staring towards the Citadel building.
Like most people in Gorgoda, Mihel knew of the man's titles. He was remembered by glorifying names engraved forever into the legend of Gorgoda. 'The Commander of Peace' 'The Man Who Fought Fate' were among his many names.
But his real name? Details about his life?
Gone. Lost somewhere in the depths of history, buried beneath centuries and records long destroyed.
After a while the group began to turn back. As they walked, Mihel noticed another curious detail about Niktha's architecture. Nearly every stone house had a small shop built into its lower level. There were small vendors selling fresh produce, some butchers and many other sellers of essential goods. Narrow stairways rose along the sides of the buildings, leading to the living quarters above.
It reminded him instantly of Mister Denyr's place back in Skaria, the suit shop tucked beneath his lodging. He smiled slightly at the memory.
The sky was steadily darkening now, the last traces of sunlight fading behind the walls of the city. Without saying much, they silently agreed it was time to return.
The others had already lost track of their path through the streets, but Mihel had been quietly paying additional attention the entire time. He guided them through the winding roads until the grim shape of their housing appeared ahead.
They stopped outside it.
The structure looked even worse in the dimming light, its peeling walls and crooked windows giving it the appearance of a place that had long ago surrendered to decay.
None of them moved.
Midia crossed her arms and groaned. "Can't we stay outside a little longer? I really don't want to go back into that pathetic excuse for a room."
Halise nodded immediately, clearly agreeing.
Vinelyn coughed lightly into his palm. "It's already getting late… and we don't exactly have anywhere else to go, do we?"
The girls' shoulders slumped as they looked back toward the miserable building. Reluctantly, they started walking toward the entrance.
Mihel suddenly grinned.
"Or," he called after them, "we could climb that twisted pipe and sit on the roof for a while. Might be nicer to watch the city from up there."
Their reaction was instant.
The girls' expressions brightened, and they hurried toward the rusted pipe running up the side of the building.
It was an old brown drainpipe, eaten by rust and dotted with small holes along its length. A few metres above the ground it bent toward a narrow ledge, from which someone could grab the railing and pull themselves onto the roof.
Midia and Halise climbed first.
By the time they reached the thin ledge, however, their earlier excitement had faded slightly. Halise managed well enough with her strong balance and steady core, but Midia was struggling.
She glanced down at the boys with an exaggerated face. "Look what you got us into."
The boys below burst out laughing.
Eventually, with some awkward scrambling and muttered complaints, all five of them managed to reach the roof.
It was simple and sloped, covered in rows of red tiles. Midia and Halise stood near a circular opening that rose from the roof like a chimney. Mihel wandered toward the edge, taking in the quiet nightscape of Niktha.
The streets were fully lit, glowing in parallel lines across the city. He traced the lines and finally focused on the city square they had explored. Sounds of music and dancing could be heard from there.
Riche sat with his legs dangling over the side, staring into the streets below, lost in his own worries.
Mihel walked over and stopped beside him.
"Riche… Arivy for your thoughts?"
Riche slowly opened his eyes and turned toward him. The earlier devastation in his eyes had calmed, but traces of sadness still lingered there.
"Mi… well… you know…" he sighed quietly. "I was prepared to face the reality of killing someone. But… learning they were innocent recruits like us…" He shook his head. "That hit differently. I think I'm fine now. Just… adjusting."
Mihel nodded.
Then he spoke again, more softly. "What happened on the train? That nightmare you saw… it wasn't normal. I know that. You don't have to lie."
Riche went pale. His breathing grew uneven as he turned away from Mihel, letting the wind push strands of his blonde hair across his face.
"Well… um… what I saw-"
Mihel placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled.
"It's alright," he said gently. "You don't have to tell me."
He stood and looked up at the silver moon hanging in the sky.
"Whenever you're comfortable."
Before Riche could respond, Vinelyn's voice cut through the quiet.
"We should head down," he called from the other side of the roof. "We need to make a good impression on Mister Kidt tomorrow."
One by one they climbed back onto the narrow ledge and carefully descended the rusted pipe.
They pushed open the crooked door and stepped into the smoke-filled lobby. The flabby man sat in his usual chair behind the counter, head tilted back, mouth open slightly, eyes closed.
He appeared to be asleep.
The group walked past him quietly and climbed the stairs. Nothing felt strange.
Not until they reached their floor.
Mihel stopped.
The door to the boys' room stood slightly open. From inside came faint sounds. Scratching. And something like low, strained grunting.
Mihel slowly turned to the others, a frown forming on his face.
Then the realization struck him. His face drained of color.
'No! Our Slates are inside.'