Chapter 13: City of Saints

*Date: 33,480 First Quarter - Chalice Theocracy*

The boat rocked gently against the pier as the ropes were cast over weathered iron hooks. Aris stepped onto the damp stone quay with stiff legs, the boards beneath him still echoing with the rhythm of waves after two days of sailing. For the first time in four years, he had left the Starting Island. The air smelled of brine and riverweed, and under the rising morning light, Chalice's capital stretched ahead of him like a dream and a warning all at once.

The city was built on water. Dozens of canals wound through white marble foundations, their edges worn down to gray by centuries of tides and countless oars. Gondolas glided silently, carrying merchants in heavy robes and priests in pale gold vestments. Towering bridges arched over the waterways, carved with statues of saints whose wings stretched toward the heavens. In every direction, domes and spires pierced the skyline, glinting with gilded tips that seemed to stab at the sun itself.

Aris paused at the edge of the quay, his chest tightening not from seasickness but from memory. Demir. Where was he now? Was he alive? The last time they had spoken, the line had cut before Demir sayin coming there. He'd be twenty by now, taller perhaps, with the beard his father, Alison, had carried so proudly. Aris rubbed his jaw. Would he even recognize me? Would I recognize him? The thought dug deep, leaving him both hopeful and hollow.

Lyra's voice tugged him back. "You all right there, champion?" she asked, her tone carrying that edge of sarcasm she wore like armor. She had crept up behind him, hood drawn low, her human disguise making her look more like a trader's daughter than the spy-engineer she was. "The sea mingled your stomach too, like your fox?"

Aris turned. Fox lay sprawled on the deck of the boat, paws splayed, his small chest heaving. His fur was plastered with sweat and sea spray. For two days he had whimpered and retched, demanding over and over to be let off.

"Why would a fox be on a boat?" he muttered weakly, voice rasping. "Get me out, get me out..."

Aris sighed, went back up the plank, and scooped the creature into his arms as if lifting a child. Fox was light but limp, his ears flicking with indignation even in exhaustion.

Lyra, already counting through a small leather pouch, shook her head. "I tallied the money your master gave us. Mostly iron and copper coins, but it adds up to twelve gold."

Aris raised an eyebrow. "Is that much?"

Lyra smirked. "Not if you're rushing endgame - buying enchanted armor, rare skill scrolls, or paying mercenaries to drag you through the higher dungeons. But for surviving? Yes. For bribes?" She jingled the pouch. "Plenty."

Aris adjusted Fox against his shoulder. "No one's rushing the endgame anymore. At least... I don't think so."

"There is no endgame," Lyra said bluntly. "Unless you count the title the leader of the Council of Eleven holds. And even then - players can't take it. Not really."

That thought darkened Aris's mind. "So what are high-level players doing? For four years?"

Lyra glanced at him sidelong as they began walking up from the docks, slipping into the tide of bodies flowing along the wide stone promenade. "Some started insurgencies. Others bent the knee to kings and priestesses. There's no consensus. No united path."

Fox stirred awake in Aris's arms, eyes half-open, then suddenly alert. "Where are we? What's happening?" He twisted violently, claws digging into Aris until he set him down on the cobblestones. Fox shook himself out, fluffing his fur. Then he looked around and sniffed the air. "We arrived? This is it? The capital of Chalice?"

Aris smiled faintly. "Yes. We're here."

"Good," Fox said, tail swishing. "I hated the sea."

Lyra scoffed. "Weak dog. You can't enter with the fox as your familiar. We should buy some animal to complement your weaknesses."

Fox's ears went flat. "You want teeth again, woman? Stop badmouthing me. You made it worse than the sea."

"Enough," Aris muttered, stepping between them. "If Fox wants to enter with me, then he enters. I'm not looking for another familiar."

Lyra folded her arms. "It's not cataloged as a beast. You'll never get Beast Master title."

"I'm fine with that. But..." He lowered his voice, wary of the cloaked priests passing nearby. "How am I supposed to enter the Academy? You never told me the plan. Or what I'm even meant to do there."

Lyra lifted her chin, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Originally? Tutor you myself but you can read which is a plus, then stuff you full of stat potions until you shone like a holy relic. But bribery might be faster. Twelve gold will talk."

"Bribery," Fox said dryly. "That fits you perfectly."

Lyra snapped her fingers at him. "Greed runs deeper than magic in this world."

Aris frowned. "It runs in every world. My mother always said nothing is ever truly free."

"Then she'd recognize this," Fox said bitterly. He pointed his nose toward a looming white cathedral whose bell tower watched the entire city. "Look at the name of the country, Aris. Chalice. Run by glorified religious zealots. They want powerful priests and templars - but only ones brainwashed enough to kneel."

Lyra actually chuckled. "Not bad for a little dog."

"Stop. Calling. Me. Dog!" Fox's roar echoed across the canal, startling a gondolier into dropping his pole.

"Fine, fine," Lyra said, waving him off. "But he's right. They raise children into zealots, polish them into clerics and templars, and place them as healers in every country as ambassadors of goodness. But their Inquisitors and Oracles are the real hitting force."

"So... potential isn't enough to be accepted?" Aris asked. "You need to look religious, too?"

Lyra nodded. "Exactly. And you? You're actually smart. And honest. I think I struck jackpot finding you."

"Jackpot," Fox muttered. "You didn't find him."

"Potato, patato." Lyra smirked. "Look. I'll find us an inn to lay low in. Then I'll bring down a copy of their Manifesto so you can memorize it, internalize it, and spout it back when asked."

Aris raised an eyebrow. "And you?"

Lyra tapped the coin pouch. "I'll find the recruiter who looks the other way for ten gold."

"Is that really how it works?"

She shrugged. "Greed, remember?" She pointed down a narrow alley where wooden balconies leaned over a canal, their paint flaking into the water below. "There. That inn. Cheap enough to keep us quiet, close enough to the docks to leave fast if we need to."

Fox squinted up at the sagging sign - The Crimson Lute. "I hate it already."

They moved deeper into Chalice's capital, weaving through the press of people. Priests in red and gold robes glided over the bridges in processions, chanting. Merchants hollered from gondolas stacked with fruit, fabrics, and scrolls. Children chased one another along the water's edge, bare feet slapping stone. The smell of roasting fish mixed with incense drifting from shrines carved into every street corner.

Aris slowed his steps more than once, staring up at the marble statues rising from every plaza. Angel-like figures with spears. Saints with hollow eyes. All looking down in judgment.

The architecture shimmered in the sunlight - ivory walls, gilded domes, balconies hung with flowering vines. But beneath, the canals smelled of rot, and the faces of the poor peeked from alleys.

This is the capital of zealots, Aris thought. A paradise painted on rotting wood.

Lyra walked with purpose, always scanning, always one step ahead. Fox padded at Aris's heels, still muttering complaints about the sea.

And Aris, despite the beauty, despite the overwhelming sights, kept his thoughts on Demir. Somewhere out there, maybe in a city like this, his friend lived - or didn't. And the only way to find him was to grow stronger, to survive this Academy, to endure Chalice's zealotry.

But as they walked deeper into the city of saints, Aris couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap disguised as salvation. The statues seemed to watch their every step, and the chanting of the priests sounded less like prayer and more like an incantation designed to ensnare the unwary.

Whatever lay ahead at the Ivory Gate Academy, Aris knew one thing for certain: nothing in this beautiful, terrible city would be as simple as it seemed.