The blacker the ink

The stairwell smelt of soaked wood and last night’s ale. Voices rose and fell under them—the same low rumble from before but sharper now. The common room was fuller than it had any right to be at this hour. The sound of plates and wooden cutlery hitting each other. Laughter bounced off the walls. Ren kept his head low and moved for the door. The innkeeper’s eyes flicked to them as they passed, quick and measuring. Her rag stopped mid-wipe. “Keep your purses close if you’re heading market,” she muttered. “Can’t trust no-one.” “Uh, thanks,” Ren said, not sure if he meant it. Outside, the air felt colder than the room. A thin wind dragged along the street. Sunlight cut between the rooftops, flashing in the puddles like broken glass. Rens eyes immediately darted to the spot where the guard had been, but he was gone, like an illusion. Relief came and went in a heartbeat. Empty didn’t mean safe. Empty meant elsewhere. “See?” Hibiki said, too loud. “Gone. Told you—coincidence.” Miyako’s elbow found his ribs. “Shut up and walk.”

They joined the current spilling toward the central streets. The city was fully awake now, every corner swollen with life. Stalls had unfolded like shells, propped by wooden beams and cloth. Smoke from behind stalls clashed with the smell of fish, leather, vinegar, and sweat. Voices collided against each other until it was a mash of sound. Hibiki’s eyes hurt at the mess of noise. But they needed food, and the pouch on his belt was already light.

They moved with the crowd. Hibiki gawked at skewers sizzling over iron plates, his mouth already open to complain about something. Miyako glared at him, shutting him up before he could speak. They stopped at a fruit stall. Apples stacked in uneven pyramids, a few plums dark with bruises, pears leaning too ripe. The woman behind it didn’t shout like the others. She just counted coins into a small tin and waited. Ren stepped forward. “How much for four? He pointed at the stack of apples. She eyed him up and down before smirking and smugly saying, “12 copper talons.” They had a feeling she was taking advantage of them. “Pay it,” Miyako snapped quietly at him. “We don’t want attention.”

Ren handed over the coins. The woman swept them into her tin without blinking. He picked one apple with clean skin and another with a thumb-sized bruise by the stem without realising. He passed the good one to Hibiki. Hibiki bit down immediately, a crunch sound immediately dissipating the awkwardness.

Alice reached for the bruised one from Ren. She spotted the bruise, but that wasn't what she was focused on; it was only her and Ren that noticed, but it shrank. Slowly the skin smoothed, and the black sank into a bright red. In seconds it looked untouched, as though it had never fallen. Alice gasped softly and jerked her hand away. Ren slid the apple under his cloak before the stall woman could notice, only giving it back to her when the woman's gaze was off them. His voice was low and tight. “Careful.” “I didn’t mean—” Alice whispered. “Just try a bit harder, please,” Ren muttered. “Not here. Not now.”

They moved on; Hibiki and Miyako were oblivious, enjoying the first meal of the city. They pushed deeper into the market, the crowd pressing them in from all sides. The sunlight was almost too bright, blinding them with all the metal that littered each store. The noise was never-ending. A butcher slammed a cleaver through bone, the crack echoing above the babble. Hibiki flinched, then covered it with a laugh that fooled no one. Miyako looked around. “Eyes forward. We stand out enough as it is.” After a little while they came into a wider square, but the atmosphere was different, almost stiffer. The noise didn’t stop, but it sharpened—less chaos, more order. Stalls gave way to boards nailed with parchment, covered in names and contracts. People crowded around them, arguing, pointing, and shoving coins into the hands of pale-clothed clerks who wrote without so much as an upwards glance. The square, which was cleaner with cut stone and washed paved stone, had a large hall that looked almost like a church at the end of it. The massive wooden doors were wide open, and the inside was there for all to see; the hustle of the outside continued in there, and above the entrance hung a sign made of iron and wood. Marked on the sign were three interlocking rings inside a square. The word 'concordium' was inscribed below. Alice looked up, her lips parting as if she recognised something she shouldn’t. Hibiki squinted upwards. “All that for a drawing of an onion?” Both Ren and Miyako couldn't remove their stares; something was wrong, but they didn't know what. A woman in pale robes stepped onto a crate. She had a heavy, beautifully crafted book in her arms, gripped tightly against her chest.

She raised her hand. “By concord and measure,” she said, her voice carrying through the square without effort. Nearly every single person in attendance stopped briefly to copy her words; it was lucky that they were all focused on the clothed woman and not the group who stayed silent during all of this. Ren felt the hair on his arms rise. This was no guild hall full of adventure and laughter. On the boards were illustrated bounties and ‘missions’ like they would’ve seen in Soras games and stories, and there were plenty of armed people that weren’t clothed in guards’ gear, but it was different. It felt as if one mistake could damn you forever here.

Inside was different. The chaos calmed, and the air felt lighter. Stone floors swept clean, pale banners hanging from the ceiling. Long tables lined the hall, clerks bent over parchment, quills scratching in steady rhythm. The air felt clean; the only thing wafting through the air was ink and wax. It was still intimidating, but it felt like they could be themselves a bit more in there; mercenaries lounged on benches, and smiles adorned the faces of the ones with nicer gear. Traders muttered as they handed over coin, clerks stamping neat records into ledgers. At the far end, a wide board listed contracts in tidy rows: caravans needing guards, vermin hunts, deliveries, and escorts. The group stood and watched as armed groups would stand at the board discussing before looking at the price listed at the bottom and taking it to a nearby desk with an old lady and a young man sitting behind it. Hibiki leaned close, eyes wide. “So you… pay them to work for someone else?”

Alice chimed in. “Maybe that’s how they don’t lose out if you fail; it looks like the reward is always higher. It's like a deposit or insurance for them.” Ren's chest tightened once more. “So they don’t really care if you fail?” Miyako nodded. “It also means there must be deadlines or time limits for the job.” They edged towards a board, but a middle-aged man with a big smile waved them over before they could look at the jobs. “You lot seem new; you have’ta register here first and then we can get you started.”

Hibiki looked around at the others, and then, not sensing any hostility in the clerk, he bounded over. “In that case, all four of us want to register, please.” His own grin was just as large as the clerk's. “That’s all fine; if you have proof of city entry, then we can get that sorted; otherwise, it’s a 10-silver-talon fee for each of you.” Ren put a hand on Hibiki’s shoulder and pulled out the stamped papers from the gates. After reading over it for a short while, the papers were handed back, and on the counter in front of them, 4 silver cylinders were placed in front of them. Ren stared at them. “What are these?” he asked, confused. T

he clerk picked one of them up and clicked open an end. Inside the tube was a deceptively long scroll of empty parchment that rolled far enough to hit the floor. “This is a record of completion for jobs; make sure you don’t lose it, or again, it’s a 10-silver-talon fee.” He bundled the scroll back into the silver tube and gave it back to them. The clerk slid the other three tubes across the desk. “One each. It’s how we track your progress. Every job you take will be signed here, witnessed, and sealed. It’s essentially your identification as a Concordias” Miyako whispered in Ren's ear, “A Concordias must be like an adventurer.” He nodded quickly. Hibiki picked his up, turning it in his hands like it was treasure. “Shiny. At least it looks official.” Miyako shot him a glare. “Don’t lose it.” Alice held hers like it might burn her fingers. She didn’t even open it; she just clutched the cold metal against her chest.

The clerk clapped his hands together and, with his trademark smile, looked at them all. “Now then. You’re free to browse contracts. Cheaper ones at the front boards, higher-paying toward the back. Each has a cost written at the bottom. Bring it here, pay your fee, and the contract is yours. Fail to report by the stated deadline…” His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed just slightly. “...well, that’s your loss. But the Concordium thanks you for contributing regardless.”

He waved slightly as they all thanked him and made their way to the closest board, weaving through other groups. Some men compared weapons, laughing like this was a tavern. A woman with scars across her face pulled a contract free and slapped it against her companion’s chest, and they started walking towards the counter from before. Hibiki scanned the closest board. “Look at this—cleaning vermin nests, warehouse watch, escort jobs. Doesn’t look too bad.” He jabbed at the numbers written at the bottom. “Two copper, five, maybe ten to start. Easy.” Ren leaned closer, reading. The handwriting was precise, every word neat and concise. Warehouse rat clearance – 2 copper fee. Merchant escort to east gate – 7 copper fee. Tavern guard, night duty – 12 copper fee. Miyako Moved to the side of Ren to get a better look. “Look there at the rewards.

It’s about five to ten times the fee.” Below the fee on the rat clearance, the ‘15 copper payment’ was clear. Alice frowned. “It’s more than just the cost. Look at the side.” On the far margin, tiny script listed times: Report by 8pm. Two-day deadline. Failure results in loss of fee and payment. “They expect you to pay,” Miyako muttered, “then risk starving if you don’t finish in time.” Ren winced. “Everyone in this city just accepts this.” “Not much choice,” Hibiki said with a half-smile. “Better than starving outside the walls. You saw how they lived in the village; it wasn’t much better.” Ren looked away from him and back at the board.

At the counter, another group laughed as they tossed a handful of coins down, taking a bounty for an escaped debtor. The old lady at the desk stamped the paper from the board, and they left immediately. Ren, who had not stopped looking at the board, spoke up, “We’ll take one of the cheap ones. Just enough to get used to it. No mistakes.” None of them argued.