Chapter 7:
WonderLand
---
The world moved before John did.
A low, deep shift—like the groan of old stone adjusting in its place.
At first, it almost felt like home.
The way the wind stirred through the cracks in the wooden walls of their old village hut. The distant murmur of voices outside, people rising with the sun.
For a fleeting second, he was back there.
Then—he opened his eyes.
And the cold reality of Vash’Kael settled over him.
The stone walls stretched high above, carved with elegant markings, flickering in the dim morning light. The ceiling wasn’t wood, but smooth, dark rock. No sky. No trees.
John exhaled slowly, sitting up.
The room was still heavy with sleep.
Finn lay sprawled across his bed, mouth slightly open, snoring softly.
Aurora had somehow managed to keep her side of the bed perfectly neat, her arm draped lazily over her forehead.
Jake had slept against the wall, still in most of his clothes, arms crossed like he hadn’t truly let himself relax.
King had taken the bed nearest the window, already awake, staring out at the city with quiet thoughtfulness.
Sally, curled up on her side, had shifted slightly—half awake, half still in a dream.
And Harry…
John glanced toward the fireplace.
Harry stood there.
Again.
Staring.
John pinched the bridge of his nose.
JOHN (muttering, deadpan)
“…It’s too early for this.”
Before he could decide whether to address it, Finn snorted in his sleep, turning onto his side.
Then, groggily—he muttered.
FINN (muffled, half-conscious)
“Mm… no more… rock soup…”
John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
JOHN (quietly, shaking his head)
“So much for a normal adventure.”
But before he could say anything else—
A knock echoed through the stone chamber.
A firm, controlled rhythm.
The kind that didn’t ask permission—only announced itself.
Everyone stirred slightly.
Jake opened one eye. Sally rubbed her temple. Finn buried his face deeper into his pillow.
The door creaked open.
A servant stepped in, dressed in fine robes of deep blue and gold, hands folded neatly in front of them.
Their voice was polite. Crisp. Unwavering.
SERVANT (formally)
“Honored guests, the Governor requests your presence for breakfast.”
Silence.
Then—Finn groaned.
Rolling over, he blinked blearily at the servant.
FINN (groggy, half-awake)
“Uh… is it free?”
Aurora, still lying down, let out a quiet chuckle.
Sally sighed, rubbing her temple.
The servant did not react.
Jake sat up, stretching stiffly, eyeing the servant with a wary expression.
JAKE (skeptical, low)
“And if we say no?”
The servant did not hesitate.
SERVANT (calm, composed)
“Then you will remain here.”
"Until further notice."
The air shifted slightly.
Sally narrowed her eyes.
King, still watching quietly from the window, folded his arms.
John, carefully, studied the servant’s expression.
No threat. No aggression.
Just… a fact.
Finn sat up fully, clapping his hands once.
FINN (cheerful, decisive)
“Alright then! Breakfast it is.”
Aurora smirked, shaking her head.
Jake stretched his arms, standing.
Sally shot John a glance, waiting for his say.
After a moment, he nodded.
JOHN (calm, firm)
“Let’s go.”
And just like that—the day began.
---
The group followed the servant down a long corridor, the polished stone beneath their feet cool even through their boots.
The air felt controlled here—not stiff, not hostile, but measured. As if every breath was accounted for.
Finn, however, seemed more concerned about something else.
He slowed his pace, tilting his head as he stared at the tall, dark stone walls that stretched endlessly in either direction.
Then—he sighed dramatically.
FINN (grumbling, unimpressed)
“Too many walls. Not enough trees.”
Aurora, walking beside him, smirked.
AURORA (calm, amused)
“You say that like trees would survive here.”
Finn threw his arms in the air.
FINN (mock despair)
“I dunno, maybe a window? A shrub? A potted plant? Something?”
Jake, walking ahead, scoffed.
JAKE (grumbling, deadpan)
“Cry about it.”
Finn clutched his chest.
FINN (mock pained)
“I will, jakey. I will.”
Aurora patted his shoulder.
AURORA (calm, supportive)
“We’ll get through this together.”
John, meanwhile, wasn’t paying attention to any of this.
His focus was elsewhere.
Up ahead, Harry walked a little apart from the group, his gaze flicking over every carved marking, every archway.
It was subtle, but John noticed it.
The way Harry wasn’t just looking.
He was studying.
John slowed his pace, walking closer to him.
JOHN (low, casual)
“You see something?”
Harry didn’t look at him.
HARRY (calm, neutral)
“More like I see everything.”
He nodded slightly toward the stone carvings along the pillars.
Intricate swirls, twisting symbols, almost woven into the walls themselves.
HARRY (musing, thoughtful)
“These aren’t just decorative are they?”
John followed his gaze.
The patterns weren’t random.
They looked… almost like records.
Stories carved into stone.
But before John could ask more, Harry’s gaze shifted.
This time—not to the walls.
To the guards.
They weren’t standing in formation. They weren’t patrolling.
They were placed.
Strategically.
Watching.
John felt it then.
This city wasn’t just built from stone.
It was designed to watch.
Before he could think too much about it, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
He turned his head sharply.
And for a split second—he saw him.
There—among the workers moving through the lower levels—he sees a familiar figure.
A dark-haired boy, moving swiftly through the crowd.
---
Vey.
Standing in the crowd below.
Draped in his usual loose, mismatched clothing, hands tucked into his sleeves.
His expression unreadable.
His gaze locked onto John.
John’s breath hitched.
JOHN (sharp, instinctive)
“Vey—”
Then—he was gone.
Just like that.
John’s heartbeat quickened as he stepped closer to the balcony, scanning the crowd.
Nothing.
Just the shifting sea of workers, merchants, and guards.
Finn, noticing John’s sudden movement, frowned.
FINN (confused, glancing around)
“What? What happened?”
John didn’t answer.
Aurora had caught on too, following his gaze.
AURORA (calm, curious)
“…Saw something john?”
John’s grip tightened against the balcony railing.
Then, slowly, he let out a breath.
JOHN (low, steady)
“No. Nothing.”
He turned back toward the group, but the thought lingered.
Vey had been here.
And then—he wasn’t.
---
The grand chamber was bathed in morning light, filtering in through arched windows that stretched toward the high ceiling.
Long stone columns framed the hall, their surfaces carved with the same intricate symbols they had seen throughout the estate.
But it wasn’t the architecture that caught their attention.
It was the table.
A vast, polished slab of deep obsidian, set with gleaming silverware and plates piled high with exotic fruits, golden-baked breads, steaming meats, and shimmering blue liquids poured into delicate goblets.
John didn’t miss the contrast.
Outside—workers toiled under watchful eyes.
Here—everything was effortless, abundant.
At the far end of the table, the Governor stood, waiting.
The same golden robes. The same smooth, composed expression.
As they entered, he smiled.
GOVERNOR (warm, welcoming)
“Ah. You have arrived.”
Finn, already eyeing the food, nudged Aurora.
FINN (murmuring, impressed)
“…I take back everything I said about the walls.”
AURORA (dry, teasing)
“See? Bribery works.”
The Governor gestured smoothly toward the table.
GOVERNOR (gracious, inviting)
“Please. Eat. Drink. You are honored guests.”
John exchanged a glance with Sally and King.
Then—he stepped forward.
JOHN (calm, steady)
“We appreciate your generosity.”
The Governor chuckled.
GOVERNOR (amused, smooth)
“Generosity is a virtue. And one I take great pride in.”
His gaze swept over them.
GOVERNOR (pleased, gracious)
“Sit. Enjoy.”
And so—they did.
---
The table was alive with color and scent.
The steam from golden-baked loaves curled into the air. The vibrant fruits—deep reds, shimmering blues—were sliced neatly beside pools of thick honey. Meats roasted to perfection glistened under the soft morning light.
And the goblets.
Filled with something… strange.
It was clear. Almost.
But every time the light hit it, it shimmered—not like water, not like wine, but something in between.
Sally, who had been picking at a piece of fruit, finally leaned back.
Then, casually—she nudged her goblet with a finger.
SALLY (dry, amused)
“…So, this sparkles.”
The Governor, seated at the head of the table, chuckled softly.
GOVERNOR (smooth, pleasant)
“As all fine things should.”
Finn, who had already taken a sip, blinked.
Then—he squinted at his cup.
FINN (murmuring, confused)
“…I don’t even taste anything.”
Aurora smirked, lifting her goblet and swirling the liquid.
AURORA (calm, teasing)
“Maybe that’s the trick.”
Jake, across from her, frowned at his own drink.
JAKE (skeptical, blunt)
“If this turns me into a frog, I’m killing all of you first.”
Sally exhaled, shaking her head.
Then, turning back to the Governor—she quirked an eyebrow.
SALLY (mock serious)
“I should be worried, right? This isn’t some… magic effect? A slow spell to make us ‘proper guests’?”
The Governor smiled.
GOVERNOR (amused, calm)
“Ah. A sharp mind.”
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Then, smoothly—he lifted his own goblet.
GOVERNOR (gracious, casual)
“Would I serve my guests something I would not drink myself?”
And with that—he took a sip.
A slow, deliberate motion. Effortless.
Finn, watching carefully, gave a nod of approval.
FINN (grinning, shrugging)
“Well. That’s good enough for me. And besides, no rock soup this time.”
Sally exhaled, she actually liked the rock soup.
---
The tension—if there had been any—eased slightly.
Until—Harry spoke.
Calm. Even. Straight to the point.
HARRY (neutral, thoughtful)
“What exactly is this place, anyway?”
The table stilled.
The Governor, ever composed, set down his goblet.
Then, with the smoothness of a man who had answered this question many times before—he spoke.
GOVERNOR (warm, confident)
“This is Vash’Kael.”
His hands spread slightly.
GOVERNOR (proud, measured)
“A beacon of strength and order.”
A pause.
Then—he smiled.
GOVERNOR (gracious, inviting)
“And perhaps… a new home for you, if you so wish it.”
---
The words hung in the air.
John didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just let them settle.
Across the table, Sally tilted her head, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her goblet.
SALLY (calm, neutral)
“Hm.”
The Governor turned to her, amused.
GOVERNOR (pleasant, smooth)
“Something troubles you?”
She let out a slow breath, feigning thoughtfulness.
Then—she smiled, but there was an edge to it.
SALLY (casual, light)
“You said ‘strength’ and ‘order.’”
Her eyes flickered toward him.
SALLY (pointed, curious)
“But not ‘freedom.’”
It wasn’t tense. Not yet.
Only a shift.
A shift the Governor noticed.
His smile remained.
GOVERNOR (calm, unwavering)
“Freedom is a luxury.”
He said it so easily.
Like a simple truth.
Finn blinked.
FINN (muttering, under his breath)
“…That’s not ominous at all.”
Aurora nudged him under the table.
John, meanwhile, studied the Governor’s expression.
He was still warm. Still welcoming.
But there was something else.
Something colder.
King, who had been quiet so far, finally leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
His tone was measured, thoughtful.
KING (neutral, steady)
“And the people outside? The ones working in the streets, hauling stone—”
His gaze didn’t waver.
KING (calm, pointed)
“Do they consider it a luxury?”
The Governor didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he studied King for a moment.
Then—he smiled.
GOVERNOR (gracious, intrigued)
“You are perceptive.”
A pause.
Then, effortlessly—he lifted his goblet, taking a slow sip.
GOVERNOR (smooth, composed)
“As I would expect from your kind.”
His words were meant as flattery.
But John knew what they really were.
A test.
---
The Governor’s goblet settled against the table with a soft, deliberate clink.
Then—his gaze shifted.
To John.
GOVERNOR (calm, measured)
“And what about you, john?”
John’s fingers, resting lightly against his plate, didn’t move.
He met the Governor’s gaze.
JOHN (neutral, steady)
“What about me?”
The Governor tilted his head slightly.
GOVERNOR (curious, intrigued)
“You have listened. You have observed.”
A pause.
Then—smoothly, effortlessly:
GOVERNOR (gracious, warm)
“What do you think of my city?”
The table quieted.
Not uncomfortably.
Not tensely.
Just… waiting.
John let the question settle.
He could feel the others watching—some openly, some subtly.
Sally’s gaze was sharp, expectant.
King sat still, unreadable.
Jake didn’t move, but his fingers tapped lightly against his knee.
Finn had stopped eating.
Aurora was studying him, half-lidded, thoughtful.
Harry—as usual—was unreadable.
John finally exhaled.
Then, carefully—he answered.
JOHN (calm, thoughtful)
“It runs well. That much is clear.”
He added:
JOHN (even, steady)
“But not everyone is happy.”
A beat of silence.
The Governor’s lips curled into a small smile.
GOVERNOR (amused, approving)
“You are honest.”
Then—his smile grew.
GOVERNOR (smooth, thoughtful)
“But careful.”
The Governor leaned back slightly, fingers tapping against the rim of his goblet.
Then, with the air of a man making a grand and effortless gesture:
GOVERNOR (gracious, inviting)
“Then, young ones.”
His gaze swept over them.
GOVERNOR (calm, assured)
“I grant you freedom to explore. Form your own opinions.”
The words felt light.
But they carried weight.
---
The Governor’s words had barely settled before he spoke again.
GOVERNOR (smooth, measured)
“But remember, young ones.”
His goblet tilted slightly in his fingers.
GOVERNOR (calm, assured)
“This city sees everything.”
A pause.
Sally’s fingers curled against her lap.
Jake’s expression remained unreadable, but his posture shifted.
Finn, for once, was thinking.
Aurora exhaled slowly through her nose, eyes flicking to John.
John, however, didn’t react.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t tense.
He simply held the Governor’s gaze.
And nodded.
JOHN (calm, steady)
“Good to know.”
The Governor’s smile never wavered.
But there was something in his eyes.
He set his goblet down, rising gracefully from his seat.
GOVERNOR (gracious, concluding)
“Then, with that, let this meal be the beginning of your stay.”
---
The walk back to their quarters was a strange mix of quiet thought and casual conversation.
For all the weight of the Governor’s words, the mood wasn’t heavy.
Just… odd.
Finally, Finn stretched his arms, letting out a long sigh.
FINN (grinning, amused)
“Well. I, for one, am honored to receive such a generous invitation.”
AURORA (dry, teasing)
“Yeah, real special. Imagine getting permission to do something we were gonna do anyway.”
FINN (mock dramatic)
“Right? It really takes the thrill out of it.”
Jake scoffed.
JAKE (grumbling, unimpressed)
“He’s just keeping us close.”
Sally nodded, crossing her arms.
SALLY (flat, unconvinced)
“He wants to see what we do with that ‘freedom.’”
HARRY (calm, musing)
“Or maybe… he just wants to see if we’re the kind of people who ask permission in the first place.”
A pause.
The group exchanged glances.
Then—Finn pointed at him.
FINN (grinning, impressed)
“…Okay. Now that was deep.”
Harry shrugged.
HARRY (neutral, unreadable)
“Not really.”
Jake sighed.
JAKE (grumbling, muttering to himself)
“Great. Now we’re playing mind games.”
John, walking slightly ahead, exhaled through his nose.
JOHN (calm, but focused)
“Doesn’t matter. We play along. See what we find.”
Sally nodded.
SALLY (firm, agreeing)
“And if we don’t like what we find?”
John didn’t answer immediately.
Then—quietly, steadily:
JOHN (low, certain)
“Then we figure out what to do next.”
With that—their plan was set.
---
The large wooden doors to their chambers creaked open, revealing the familiar lavish room.
Soft beds, warm candlelight, polished stone floors—far too comfortable for what lay beyond these walls.
Finn immediately flopped onto the nearest couch.
FINN (grinning, stretching out)
“Alright. Let’s divide and conquer.”
Jake, still standing, grunted.
JAKE (grumbling, skeptical)
“We’re splitting up now?”
King, who had moved to lean against the windowsill, nodded.
KING (calm, practical)
“We cover more ground that way.”
Sally folded her arms.
SALLY (firm, steady)
“We’ll stick to pairs. No one goes anywhere alone.”
Harry, already making his way to the fireplace (because of course he was), spoke up without looking at them.
HARRY (calm, casual)
“Except me.”
Sally sighed.
SALLY (tired, rubbing her temples)
“Except harry.”
Finn pumped a fist into the air.
FINN (cheerful, smirking at Aurora)
“That means we get the fun job.”
Aurora raised an eyebrow.
AURORA (calm, amused)
“Which is?”
John finally turned from the door, his tone even, decisive.
JOHN (firm, assigning roles)
“Finn and Aurora—go to the market. Look at how people live. What they buy. See the common life.”
Aurora nodded. Finn grinned.
JOHN (continuing)
“Sally, Jake, and King—you focus on the workers. Talk to them if you can. See what you notice.”
Sally exchanged a glance with King, then Jake. They all nodded.
JOHN (glancing toward Harry)
“Harry. You wanted the archives, right?”
Harry finally turned away from the fireplace, his usual unreadable expression in place.
HARRY (calm, simple)
“There’s always something worth reading.”
John exhaled.
Then—he crossed his arms.
JOHN (even, steady)
“I’ll stay here.”
The group paused.
Finn raised an eyebrow.
FINN (confused, casual)
“Uh… you sure? The Governor is kind of…”
He made a vague, swirling hand gesture.
FINN (grinning, finishing the thought)
“…A lot.”
John smirked slightly.
JOHN (calm, assured)
“All the more reason to talk to him.”
A pause.
Then, Aurora pushed off the couch, stretching slightly.
AURORA (calm, smirking)
“Well. This should be fun.”
Sally sighed.
SALLY (deadpan, unimpressed)
“That’s one word for it.”
Finn clapped his hands together.
FINN (cheerful, teasing)
“Alright, people. Let’s go bother some citizens.”
Jake muttered something about jumping off the balcony.
King, ever composed, nodded toward John.
KING (calm, trusting)
“We’ll regroup when we know more.”
John returned the nod.
And with that—the group stepped forward.
Splitting apart.
Each heading toward a different part of the city.
Each about to uncover something new.
And harry,
He just wanted to read things in peace.
---
The streets stretched ahead, winding through massive stone archways and past tall, sculpted buildings.
Despite the imposing size of the city, this part of town felt quieter.
Not empty—just different.
The three walked at a steady pace, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone.
For now, at least, there was no rush.
And Jake was already bored.
---
(The Usual Jake Complaints, Featuring King and Sally)
JAKE (grumbling, hands behind his head)
"Okay, but seriously—what kind of city is this? No trees. No rivers. Just stone, stone, and oh—what’s that? More stone."
King glanced at him, unimpressed.
KING (calm, deadpan)
"You say that like you’ve ever cared about trees."
Jake scoffed.
JAKE (mock offended)
"I care about trees."
Sally smirked.
SALLY (teasing, raising an eyebrow)
"Since when?"
He paused.
Then, after a beat—he shrugged.
JAKE (grinning, carefree)
"Since right now."
King rubbed his temple.
KING (grumbling, shaking his head)
"Of course."
Jake, pleased with himself, turned back to the streets ahead.
Then—he frowned.
JAKE (grumbling again, kicking a pebble ahead of him)
"Okay, but seriously. This place is too… clean."
Sally glanced around.
The streets were clean.
Perfectly smooth stone. No dirt. No stray leaves. Not even a piece of discarded cloth or food.
It didn’t look natural.
It looked… maintained.
SALLY (murmuring, thoughtful)
"Yeah. Guess it is."
Jake huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.
JAKE (grumbling, kicking the pebble again)
"Freaks me out."
King, walking beside him, sighed.
KING (flat, unimpressed)
"Jake. You’re freaked out by a clean floor?"
Jake turned sharply to him, pointing.
JAKE (firm, serious)
"Yes."
King blinked.
Sally laughed.
---
Despite the banter, Sally was still watching around her.
And she wasn’t the only one.
King’s eyes moved carefully over the towering structures, noting the placement of guards, the lack of crowds, the way the city seemed designed to control movement.
Jake, meanwhile, was more focused on the people they did see.
And what stood out most?
Nobody was hanging around.
No one was sitting on doorsteps.
No one was resting against walls, chatting.
No one was loitering.
Every person they passed was either walking with purpose or working.
It was quiet efficiency.
And for some reason—that annoyed Jake more than anything.
JAKE (muttering, frustrated)
"Nobody here just… exists, huh?"
Sally glanced at him.
She could tell—he wasn’t joking this time.
SALLY (calm, observing the people around them)
"Guess not."
King remained silent.
Because he had noticed the same thing.
And now, as they approached the district where the real labor happened, that feeling?
Only got stronger.
---
(The Work District)
Ahead, the air was denser, heavier.
Not with noise.
Not with chaos.
But with a quiet, constant rhythm.
The sound of stone being cut. Carts being pushed.
A place where people worked.
And nothing more.
Jake, King, and Sally stepped forward—entering a part of the city that felt different from the rest.
The air felt different here.
Not with heat or smoke—but with something unseen.
Jake, King, and Sally stepped into the district where the city’s real work was done.
The change was immediate.
Gone were the decorated streets and open courtyards.
Now—everything was function.
Wide roads, meant for hauling.
Shops stripped of color, their signs purely practical.
Buildings stacked close together, the walkways narrower, more controlled.
And the workers.
Hundreds of them.
Not in chaos. Not in disarray.
But in perfect, synchronized motion.
Carrying. Lifting. Chiseling. Hauling.
All without speaking.
All without slowing.
All without stopping.
Jake’s brows furrowed.
At the people.
Every worker they passed moved with precise, calculated steps.
No one lingered. No one paused to take a breath.
No one even looked up.
Jake nudged Sally.
JAKE (low, grumbling)
"Alright. You seeing this?"
Sally, arms crossed, exhaled.
Yeah—she saw it too.
But she noticed something else, too.
There was no sound.
No casual conversation.
No muttered complaints.
Just work.
The scrape of stone. The dull thud of crates.
But no human voices.
It was… wrong.
Sally’s fingers tightened against her sleeve.
King, meanwhile, wasn’t watching the workers.
He was watching the guards.
Placed at precise intervals.
Watching.
Always watching.
They weren’t shouting orders.
They weren’t cracking whips.
They were just there.
Standing at key points, their expressions completely unreadable.
---
King’s jaw tensed slightly.
This wasn’t control through fear.
It was control through something.. else.
Something deeper. Something more absolute.
And the more they walked, the clearer it became.
They've walked into, not just a labor district.
But a machine.
And the people here?
They were just the gears making it move.
---
The rhythm of the district was perfect.
Every lift. Every movement.
It was precise. Mechanical. Unbroken.
Until it wasn’t.
---
A worker—a broad-shouldered orc, older than the others—was hauling a crate across the main walkway.
He moved with the same steady rhythm as the rest.
Step. Haul. Step. Haul.
A rhythm maintained in unison.
Then while moving—his foot caught on uneven stone.
As the weight shifted. His knee buckled.
And in a sharp, sudden motion—he fell to the ground.
The crate hit the ground with a loud, splintering crack.
Contents **spilled out—**smooth, polished stones rolling across the street.
---
(The Moment Freezes—And it Feels.. Wrong)
Jake, King, and Sally halted.
Not because someone had fallen.
But because of what didn’t happen next.
No one moved to help.
No one reacted.
No one even looked.
The workers kept moving as if nothing had happened.
They stepped around the fallen stones without hesitation, without breaking stride.
It was like the orc wasn’t there.
Like the fall hadn’t even happened.
Sally’s breath hitched.
King’s jaw tightened.
Jake’ looked equal parts shocked as he looked angry.
Because everything about this was wrong.
The trio grew suspicious, but more so they felt afraid.
---
For a moment, the orc didn’t move.
Just kneeling there, breath slow, eyes locked on the ground.
The crate lay in pieces beside him, its contents scattered across the stone.
Workers stepped around him, over him, past him.
None of them slowed. None of them looked.
Then— he moved.
JAKE (firm, stepping forward)
"Hey. You alright?"
The orc’s head jerked up.
Not in relief. Not in gratitude.
In alarm.
---
Jake crouched down, already reaching for the spilled stones.
JAKE (grumbling, shaking his head)
"Here, lemme—"
A strong, rough hand caught his wrist.
Jake froze.
The orc gripped him tightly, eyes wide with something unexpected.
Not anger.
Not frustration.
Fear.
ORC (low, urgent, shaking his head)
"Don’t."
Jake stared.
King and Sally, still standing, exchanged a glance.
SALLY (soft, cautious)
"We’re just trying to help."
The orc released Jake’s wrist.
Then—shakily, carefully—he reached for the stones himself.
Like it had to be him.
Like if anyone else did it, there would be consequences.
Jake watched him, jaw tight.
Then—a shadow moved.
A slow, deliberate set of footsteps.
Someone else had finally reacted.
But not a worker.
A guard.
The footsteps stopped.
A figure loomed just outside their circle, standing with the stillness of someone who had already assessed everything.
The guard.
His armor was a smooth black metal, polished but not ornamental.
His face—**mostly hidden beneath a visor—**gave away nothing.
But his **stance, his presence, his timing—**all of it said enough.
He hadn’t come for the orc.
He had come for them.
Jake, still kneeling, glanced up.
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then—the guard spoke.
His voice was calm. Measured.
GUARD (low, unreadable)
"Is there a problem?"
He said not to the orc.
To them.
Sally, arms still folded, kept her voice even.
SALLY (calm, but pointed)
"He tripped. We were just helping."
The guard’s helmet tilted slightly.
Then—he shifted his weight.
GUARD (slow, deliberate)
"He is a worker."
JAKE (grumbling, standing up slightly)
"Yeah. We noticed."
King subtly stepped between them.
Jake exhaled sharply, but didn’t push forward.
The orc, still on the ground, lowered his gaze.
Like he wasn’t part of this anymore.
The guard didn’t move.
Didn’t reach for a weapon.
Didn’t threaten.
But his silence carried the weight of something unspoken.
---
(A Message Without Words)
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then—slowly, methodically—the guard turned his head.
Looking at the other workers.
At the ones who hadn’t stopped moving.
At the ones who had stepped over, stepped around, kept going.
Afterwards—he looked back at Jake, King, and Sally.
And for the first time, the message was clear.
They weren’t supposed to be part of this.
This wasn’t their place.
This wasn’t their home.
And if they were smart—
They’d act like they understood that.
For a moment—nobody moved.
The air between them stretched thin.
Jake, jaw tight, held the guard’s stare.
He could feel King standing just slightly in front of him.
A barrier. A silent reminder.
Sally, arms still crossed, wasn’t looking at the guard anymore.
She was watching the orc.
Because something about him felt off.
Not just the way he lowered his gaze.
Not just the way he refused their help.
But because of the way he was holding his breath.
Like he was waiting.
Like he was scared of what came next.
---
JAKE (grumbling, stepping forward)
"So that’s it? He just falls and nobody—"
King’s hand pressed against his chest.
A small movement.
But enough.
Jake stopped.
And when he looked up, King wasn’t staring at the guard.
He was staring at him.
KING (low, firm)
"Not here."
Jake’s fingers twitched.
Because he wasn’t saying don’t.
He was saying not now, not here.
Jake exhaled sharply, stepping back.
The guard didn’t react.
Didn’t move.
Just stood there, waiting.
Like he had already expected this outcome.
---
And then—the orc spoke.
Barely a whisper.
Not meant to be heard.
But Sally heard them anyway.
ORC (low, quiet, resigned)
"Shouldn’t have stopped."
Her stomach dropped.
Not because of what he said.
But because of how he said it.
The orc lowered his head again, picking up the last of the fallen stones.
Jake, King, and Sally watched him.
And then, slowly, they stepped away.
Because there was nothing else they could do.
Not right now.
Not here.
But the feeling wouldn’t leave them.
And as they walked away, the guard remained still.
Watching them.
Until they were gone.
---
The encounter was over.
But the lesson lingered.
Sally’s eyes stayed fixed on the workers.
Even after they stepped away.
Even after the guard shifted his stance, returning to his silent watch.
The rhythm had never stopped.
The old orc was back in place, lifting, hauling, moving.
Acting like nothing ever happened.
Sally’s fingers tightened against her sleeve.
---
The market stretched before finn and aurora—a winding, bustling maze of stone-paved streets and colorful stalls, tucked between towering buildings.
Despite the city’s imposing presence, this place felt... different.
Less controlled. Less measured.
Here, the air was filled with movement, chatter, and the mingling scents of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and something sweet and spiced.
Finn took a deep breath, exhaling with a satisfied grin.
FINN (grinning, stretching his arms)
"Alright. This is more like it."
Aurora, walking beside him, tucked her hands behind her head, taking in the view.
AURORA (calm, amused)
"You were just complaining about the walls an hour ago."
Finn gestured dramatically.
FINN (mock serious)
"Yeah, but this? This is different."
His eyes flicked over every strange fruit, every sizzling skewer on an open flame.
Aurora just smirked.
Because she could tell.
He wasn’t thinking about their mission.
Not really.
And—neither was she.
---
They moved slowly.
Not in the way of people on a mission, but like wanderers with time to waste.
They paused at a stall selling intricately carved wooden trinkets, shaped like small creatures with curling tails and delicate wings.
Finn picked one up, turning it over in his hands.
FINN (curious, impressed)
"Neat. What is this?"
The merchant—a short, broad-shouldered woman with gold-painted nails—grinned.
MERCHANT (warm, teasing)
"Ah, a man with fine taste! That, young traveler, is a Luck Spirit!"
Finn raised an eyebrow.
FINN (intrigued, amused)
"Oh yeah? What’s it do?"
The merchant leaned in conspiratorially.
MERCHANT (lowering her voice, mock serious)
"That depends. You believe in luck?"
Finn tilted his head.
Then, he grinned.
FINN (smirking, handing it to Aurora)
"Well, I’d say mine’s pretty good already."
Aurora, smirked and tossed the trinket back onto the stall.
AURORA (smiling, unimpressed)
"Smooth."
The merchant laughed, clapping her hands.
MERCHANT (amused, nodding approvingly)
"Oh, I like you two!"
Aurora turned, walking ahead.
Finn, falling into step beside her, grinned.
---
(The City Feels... Almost Normal)
For a while, they just walked.
Through narrow alleyways where vendors called out in a dozen different languages.
Past a spice seller fanning fragrant smoke into the air.
Near a musician playing a low, drifting melody on a stringed instrument.
No one stopped them.
No one watched them too closely.
For the first time since arriving in this city—they weren’t being observed.
Which for them, was strangely nice.
Finn glanced around, his expression turning thoughtful.
FINN (musing, casual)
"You know… it’s easy to forget we’re supposed to be ‘investigating.’"
Aurora snorted.
AURORA (dry, smirking)
"You mean we’re not?"
Finn grinned.
FINN (mock serious)
"Depends. Does taste-testing every street snack count as ‘gathering intel’?"
Aurora tapped her chin, pretending to consider.
AURORA (calm, teasing)
"Only if we write a detailed report."
Finn gasped, clutching his chest.
FINN (mock betrayed)
"Work? On my free time?"
AURORA (smirking, shrugging)
"Nah, you're right."
The city around them felt lighter.
For a little while, they weren’t strangers in an unfamiliar world.
They were just… exploring.
---
The market was alive, breathing.
A merchant shouted praises of sizzling skewers, waving a hand over the open flame.
A group of children darted past, laughing as they wove through the crowd.
A fruit vendor sliced a deep-purple melon, its juices dripping onto golden parchment.
And through it all, Finn and Aurora strolled—unhurried, weightless.
They weren’t looking for anything in particular.
Just… experiencing.
Aurora paused at a small stand, fingers brushing against a woven bracelet made of deep green thread.
Finn, standing beside her, glanced over.
FINN (curious, casual)
"You into jewelry now?"
Aurora rolled her eyes.
AURORA (calm, smirking)
"Into good craftsmanship, obviously."
The old woman behind the stand chuckled.
MERCHANT (warm, amused)
"A good eye, little one. This was woven with the threads of the midnight vines—stronger than they look!"
Aurora lifted a brow.
Finn, grinning, picked one up.
FINN (mock serious)
"Think it could hold up against Finn-proof levels of recklessness?"
The woman laughed.
MERCHANT (teasing)
"Only one way to find out!"
Finn smirked, looping the bracelet around his wrist.
Then, without hesitation—he turned to leave. Waving to her as he walked.
No exchange. No payment.
And the woman didn’t stop him.
She just smiled and waved back.
Aurora, watching this, narrowed her eyes slightly.
---
(Wait… Shouldn’t We Have Paid for That?)
The realization came slowly.
Not all at once—just in pieces.
The skewer Finn had grabbed earlier? No charge.
The cup of honeyed tea Aurora had taken from a vendor? No exchange.
The woven bracelet? Not a single question.
Aurora finally halted mid-step.
Finn, already two paces ahead, blinked and turned.
FINN (casual, confused)
"…What?"
Aurora’s eyes scanned the market.
People were bartering, trading, exchanging gold-leafed tokens.
But not them.
She slowly turned back to Finn, lifting an eyebrow.
AURORA (calm, but pointed)
"We haven’t paid for a single thing here, have we?"
Finn blinked.
Then—he frowned.
A pause.
Then, carefully—he turned, glancing back toward the old woman at the stand.
She was already greeting another customer, smiling as if nothing was strange.
Finn looked down at his bracelet.
Then back at Aurora.
FINN (slow, realization hitting)
"…Huh."
Aurora crossed her arms.
AURORA (deadpan, skeptical)
"We should go back. Shouldn't we?"
Finn rubbed the back of his neck.
FINN (rubbing his shoulder, sheepish)
"Well.. I mean—do you want me to?"
"I mean, we haven't even got a single penny to pay her. Or.. is this an 'I give you this, you give me that' kinda deal."
Aurora sighed, shaking her head.
AURORA (thoughtful, hands on hips)
"Beats me."
AURORA (muttering, sarcastic)
"Should’ve asked about this at the estate…"
Finn snapped his fingers.
FINN (mock regretful, nodding)
"Right? ‘Hey, Governor, quick question—how does money work here?’"
Aurora smirked.
AURORA (calm, amused)
"Would’ve been better than becoming accidental thieves."
Finn thought about that for a second.
Then—he shrugged.
FINN (grinning, uncaring)
"Well, if they’re not stopping us, I say we roll with it."
Aurora let out a short chuckle.
But at the back of her mind, the thought still lingered.
---
(The Real Question – Why?)
It wasn’t just that they weren’t paying.
It was that no one expected them to.
No hesitation. No questioning.
Like it was normal.
Like it was obvious.
Aurora exhaled, arms still crossed.
AURORA (low, thoughtful)
"You think it’s because of the elf thing?"
Finn’s smirk faded slightly.
Because that thought had just hit him just now.
The moment they stepped into the city, the moment they were given a lavish room, the moment the Governor greeted them with open arms—it had all been so… effortless.
And now?
The market treated them the same way.
Finn slowly glanced around.
For the first time, he noticed the stares.
Not hostile. Not suspicious.
But… watchful.
Like people were seeing something they didn’t fully understand.
Aurora, standing beside him, noticed it too.
A breeze moved through the market.
And suddenly, the easy, carefree atmosphere felt just a little bit different.
---
The feeling crept in slowly.
A prickle at the edge of awareness.
Nothing obvious—just a sense.
Finn and Aurora kept walking, weaving through rows of colorful stalls, past steaming food carts, beneath banners that fluttered lazily in the warm air.
Everything was still the same.
People laughed, vendors shouted, the scent of roasted spices drifted between stone archways.
And yet—something was different.
Aurora didn’t glance back.
Didn’t turn her head.
But she knew.
Someone was behind them.
Trailing too close.
Keeping pace a little too well.
Finn felt it too.
But instead of tensing—he smirked.
FINN (mock serious, whispering to Aurora)
"Alright. We had a good run. But looks like we’re wanted criminals now."
AURORA (deadpan, amused)
"So soon? Thought we’d at least make it a day."
Finn sighed dramatically, shaking his head.
FINN (mock regretful)
"It was the free bracelet. Should’ve known. Too good to be true."
Aurora chuckled under her breath.
Then—casually, without breaking stride—she glanced at her reflection in a polished metal vendor sign.
Just for a second.
And she saw him.
A small figure, hood drawn low, moving too smoothly through the crowd.
Too deliberate.
Her eyes flicked back to Finn.
AURORA (calm, low)
"Not a guard."
Finn raised an eyebrow.
FINN (murmuring, playful but intrigued)
"Oh? Who’s after us, then? An angry vendor? An overenthusiastic fan?"
Then—it happened.
(End of Part 1)
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