Unofficial Entrances

--Gatix--

We emerged from the jump outside the first proper city I'd seen in this world. Smoke rose from a thousand chimneys, all protected by walls at least five meters high. Half a dozen guards guarded each portcullis gate. The city was built around a solitary hill, and architects of old must have relished the opportunity to convert a piece of nature into art. The mountain had been sculpted into a castle most spectacular, complete with six towers and an inner wall as high as those on the outer ring.

“Fancy.”

“Alakafor. One of the oldest cities in Compolot, and home to the second richest king.” Ms. Queen took the opportunity to lean against a nearby tree. “Rumors say you can take a week to walk through the city and not see everything it can offer.”

“How many people live here?”

“At least a couple hundred thousand.” Ms. Queen gave me a strange look when I made a noise. “Is something funny?”

“A couple hundred thousand inhabitants would classify as a medium-sized town in my country.”

“With a population of nine billion, it makes sense. I'm still struggling to wrap my head around that number.”

“Most people do.” I could see at least three city gates from my vantage point, but each worked the same. “How are we getting in?”

“Sorry?”

“This being a bastion of the skin-walkers, I assume they won't take kindly to the infamous queen of flames walking through.”

“You underestimate me.” She raised a hand and blew into it. “ Kamofleer.” Two pinkish orbs flew out from her hand, spinning around her body as she was enveloped by a pink cloud.

I was used to all manner of oddities by now, but seeing what emerged from the cloud took a few seconds to process. What had entered was the horned, scaly, red-skinned demoness I'd become used to. What emerged was a fair-skinned lady wearing a red and golden-lined dress tied with a neck collar. Matching sleeves were pulled above her elbows, and golden ribbons tied her hair into her signature twin tails. If I didn't see her enter the cloud, I would have confused her for a royal. The only thing betraying her identity was the fiercely red eyes and the two horns.

And the cocky grin I've come to appreciate.

“Like what you see?”

“I'm not complaining.” No, I'm not, and it would be wise not to let her know she stole my breath for two seconds. “But you missed something.” I tapped the top of my head. “They're a bit of a giveaway in a town of skin-walkers.”

“You needn't worry.” She briefly inspected her nails before waiving her hand dismissively. “This dress is a means of misdirection as well as camouflage. I'll be confused for one of the nobility, and those are known to make eccentric fashion statements every now and then. The skin-walkers will be blinded by the apparent grandeur and leave it at that. Besides, who ever heard of guards harassing nobles?” She gave a wink.

“Hmm...”

“I've done this before, do not worry.”

“I guess technically you are nobility. But wouldn't a noble always have a bodyguard with her?”

“You think I keep you around for your good looks?”

“Smart.” I tore my eyes off her to glance at the gates. “Since we can't go through there, I'm assuming you will teleport us in?”

“Got it in one.”

“I don't even want to know how big your magic reserves are.”

“Big enough, but not unlimited. Short-range jumps are thankfully a lot easier than the previous ones.” She waved me over. “Come. Last one.”

***

The jump took us inside a building, with the only furniture being dust and darkness, the only illumination being the wisp of light Azala summoned when we entered.

“A safe house?”

“A backdoor in skin-walker settlements. I have one in almost every major city.”

“How'd you make sure nobody will occupy the place under your nose?”

“By buying it. Being a queen, I'm not exactly poor.”

“You're allowed to do that?”

“Money knows no race.” She chuckled, walking towards the door. “Especially when it comes from an eccentric noble.”

“Handy.” Upon stepping out, I was greeted with the classic medieval fantasy town scene I've read so many times. It took only a second to learn the lay of the land. Be it fantasy or reality, these towns followed the same template. The largest building was a guild hall where those inclined to adventure could earn some money, with a blacksmith and food stalls where said adventurers could spend money usually nearby. Let's not forget the tavern and inn where adventurers and travelers could stay overnight, and the chapel or church to house some clergy who gets upset over things running in the sewers.

Huh…

`Penny for your thoughts, Gatix?”

“You're screwed if you're not in the adventuring industry.”

“This coming from a mercenary.”

“A bit more coin involved there.”

“I'll bet.”

I had to give credit: Azala's summary had been spot on. We attracted stares of weariness and reverie in equal measure as we traveled the streets, with half the folks taking one look at my armor before hurrying away with the rest wondering if they could try to curry favor with Azala. She seemed especially popular with children, more than one group of kids saw fit to introduce themselves.

“Say, you said a king lives in the palace?” She nodded her response as she waved another group of scoundrels off. “How's his reception?”

“On the positive side, but I've seen better. The king's policies on the gate fees have met criticism, especially from the farmers wishing to sell their wares and his two sons are seen as overly spoiled, but the people tend to let that slide because of his tax policies, which are unusually low for a kingdom of this size.”

“More money tends to make people happy. But that doesn't mean he could lower the expenses.”

“If rumors are true, his finance minister is the one who made that happen. His appointment has been described as a gift from the goddess. However, I wouldn't be surprised if there are income streams not officially endorsed by his majesty.”

“Sounds like a standard monarchy to me.” I shrugged. “Where are we going? The local hairdresser?”

“Why there?”

“Good source of gossip where I come from.”

Ms Queen chuckled. “You're on the right track, but no, I have some other place in mind.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. People tend to confess just as much at the local church.”