The green-flagged ship had finally settled into the harbor, its weathered hull creaking softly against the docks. Across the deck, countless men moved about, each occupied with a different task, yet all preparing to leave the ship. The wooden planks echoed beneath their boots, every step blending into the distant chatter of sailors and merchants. In the background, ropes strained against the masts while waves crashed gently against the hull, the harbor alive with noise and movement.
Among those men stood Kier, his backpack resting on his shoulders—the one Marwen had prepared for him—and the sword hanging at the right side of his waist. He was ready, all set. Having just stepped out of the captain's chambers, he waited for Bron to come out as well.
As he stood there, the wooden hatch creaked open and a sailor climbed onto the deck.
An old man emerged from below, dressed in a torn-up uniform. When half his body reached the surface, his long black beard followed the direction of the wind.
Naturally, his eyes landed on Kier, who was already smiling at the sight of him. Instantly, the old man's sleepy and tired expression shifted into one full of life and energy.
"Ga haha! I didn't know we had such a guest over," the old man said.
Kier laughed softly. Of course the old man didn't know he was there; he had been sleeping for almost two days.
"Move your ass, old man!" a rough voice shouted from below.
"You're blocking the way!"
The old man looked down furiously and barked back with a booming voice. After some time of arguing, he finally calmed down.
"Tch!" the old man clicked his tongue before at last stepping onto the wooden deck.
His steps were slow, yet not hesitant at all. What felt unfitting for a man with such a character, however, was his height.
The old man was a dwarf, one who played a crucial role within the crew. After him, three others climbed up onto the deck.
Each one of them had something that made them stand out. The first man after the dwarf looked to be in his late twenties. His uniform was well-kept, perhaps because he lacked a beard, though his face still gave off the impression of a man barely in his twenties. He had blonde hair and rich brown eyes.
The two men after him both carried scars beneath their eyes—one beneath the right eye, the other beneath the left.
And finally came the last man, whose bald head reflected the rays of the sun as he stepped out. He was the biggest man in the crew, taller and bulkier than anyone else, yet also the quietest and calmest among them.
It had been quite a while since Kier had seen them all together. The moment they noticed him, the atmosphere instantly grew warmer. Laughter and jokes replaced the distant noise of the harbor.
Soon after, Bron and Clad stepped out of the captain's chambers side by side, carrying Kier's recommendation letter. Once Bron confirmed they could leave the ship, he ordered everyone to disembark. Some men jumped off immediately while others waited in line to use the ladder. Before long, Bron's crew of twenty men had dwindled to only half remaining aboard.
Bron handed the letter to Kier before jumping off the ship himself. Clad tapped Kier on the shoulder and followed after him. One by one, Gissy, Noah, the old man with the long beard, and the four others each patted Kier on the back, as though inviting him into a new world.
Beneath the warmth of the setting sun and the wind brushing gently against his skin, Kier looked back one last time. The noise in the background and the sound of waves crashing against the ship brought back memories of the island where he had grown up. The feeling left a hollow ache in his chest. Yet deep down, he knew he would never truly be ready for this moment.
So he took a step forward.
And another. And another—each one filled with more confidence and excitement than the last.
Then he jumped down to where the rest of the crew was waiting. As he rose from the landing, a new life filled with the unknown unfolded before him.
Bron smiled and gestured for him to follow. So he did. Kier followed quietly behind him.
The atmosphere was festive, and countless people of every kind filled the roads. Some were workers, others guards, and there were even groups of tourists—after all, no one wanted to miss tomorrow's festival. After only a few steps, Kier could already feel the strange aura the cobblestone streets gave off. It was as though those ancient stones wished to spill their darkest secrets, yet were unable to do so.
Many legends had been born in this city, and some of them were among Kier's favorite stories. It did not take long for them to leave the port behind before they suddenly stopped.
"Hey, Cap. I guess it's time to split," Noah said, pointing toward the road to his left.
"Aren't you coming with us?" Kier asked.
"Sorry. I promised my little brother I'd spend some time with him."
The others approached as well.
"It's the same for us, Kier," the bald man told him.
Kier felt a little stupid for not realizing it sooner.
'I mean, they have their own lives outside their jobs. Not to mention they've spent almost two weeks out at sea.'
After thinking it through, Kier looked back at them.
"Alright then. Until next time," he said with a soft smile.
Noah lifted his right hand and dapped Kier before turning around and heading off.
"See you on the big screens, buddy!" Noah shouted back.
Kier laughed. More than half the crew greeted them one last time before going their separate ways.
Now only Kier, Bron, and Clad remained. The others disappeared down different roads—some to the left, some to the right, and some continued alongside them for a while before eventually splitting off as well.
They walked down the main road, which was by far the most crowded. The streets here were wider, and the buildings carried warm-colored stone, much larger than the ones near the harbor. Beneath almost every building rested a shop. The market was incredible. Kier could find almost anything imaginable—swords, armor, elixirs, clothes, food, and countless other things. Merchants and carriages moved endlessly back and forth through the crowded streets.
From every building hung banners with a strikingly unique design. The fabric was a deep wine-red, marked with eight arms reaching inward, their fingers stretching toward a golden star at the center.
Above the streets, enclosed bridges connected buildings from one side to the other, crossing overhead like pathways suspended in the air.
From Kier's point of view, they had already reached the city's center. They stood in the middle of a massive square where every main road connected. No carriages or horses were in sight here—only pedestrians. It was a wide, stone-clad area, and at the very end of it, facing the port from which Kier had come, stood a statue carved from white stone.
A man knelt with his head lowered in shame, heavy chains binding his wrists and ankles alike. The entire statue stood atop a raised curb, while the ground surrounding it was covered in red roses. Tourists gathered around it in large numbers, and so did Kier.
Yet the people staring at the statue did not smile, nor did they look happy. Their expressions carried anger and disgust, as though they despised the figure before them. The atmosphere around the monument felt heavy and harsh.
Curious, Kier asked,
"What happened here?"
Bron hesitated for a moment.
"Twenty-seven years ago… the first candidate for the throne was executed here."
Kier's eyes lit up instantly. It was the very man Marwen used to tell him stories about—the story he loved more than any other.
Then Bron added,
"He was the Cursed Blood, Auren—the man who started the civil war twenty-seven years ago."
"So he really did die here, huh," Kier said. But in his excitement, his voice came out a little louder than intended.
The people around them turned their heads immediately. The moment they saw Kier sounding almost happy about a man considered a traitor, hostile gazes fell upon the group.
Sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, Clad quickly spoke.
"Lower your voice. Not everyone shares your feelings."
Then he turned toward Bron.
"Let's move before we draw unwanted attention."
Bron agreed, and the three of them quickly left the square. Turning down a smaller street to the right, they soon arrived at the inn where they would spend the night.
It was a four-story building. The corridor inside was wide and welcoming. At the front desk sat a woman around her thirties, wearing glasses.
"Welcome to our hotel. Are you looking for a place to stay?" she asked warmly.
"Yes," Bron replied. "We'd like three rooms for the night."
"That will be three silver coins per room."
"That won't be a problem," Bron answered.
After the payment was made, the woman guided them toward their rooms.
The room Kier received had a simple design, though it included a bathroom as well.
He dropped his backpack and sword onto the floor before collapsing onto the bed, exhausted. Thoughts of tomorrow's tournament filled his mind as he stared deeply at the ceiling.
Before long, sleep claimed him.
***
Three hours had passed, and Kier was still asleep when a knock echoed through the room.
He half-opened his eyes and looked toward the window. Night had already fallen. Lights illuminated the streets outside, while distant music drifted through the air.
"Hey, at least answer when I knock," Bron called out loudly enough for Kier to hear through the door.
Kier sighed and rested an arm over his forehead.
"What do you want?"
"Get up and get ready. We're going to have a little dinner party."
"Alright. I'll be there in a minute."
With that, Bron left.
Kier slowly got out of bed and walked straight toward his backpack. He still hadn't opened it properly, but now he was curious about what Marwen had prepared for him.
Inside were clothes, food, and resting neatly on top of everything else was a small pouch.
When he opened it, he found ten gold coins along with a small folded letter.
'She always does something extra.'
The letter simply read:
Spend it well and be careful.
"You don't need to worry about that," Kier muttered softly to himself.
After changing his clothes, he headed downstairs. Sitting on the couches in the lobby were Bron and Clad, both reading newspapers. The moment they noticed Kier, they folded them away and stood up before heading outside together.
The streets were even livelier than they had been during the day. Young boys and girls wandered around laughing and singing while merchants shouted over one another from brightly lit stalls. Mercenaries armed with swords and shields walked through the crowds, and patrol guards moved carefully through the streets to keep order.
'Why are those ladies looking at us like that?' Kier wondered, noticing several women glancing in their direction.
Before he could make sense of it, Bron spoke up and told him where they would be dining.
It was a classic bar-restaurant. The entire structure was built from dark wood, and above the entrance hung a sign that read: Lovely Night.
The place was packed with people drinking, laughing, and shouting over one another. Music and conversation blended together into a warm, lively noise.
The waiter was a woman around her thirties. She had dark hair and a stunning figure that easily drew attention despite her age. She wore the simple uniform typical for the workers there, yet somehow managed to stand out from everyone else in the room.
With a cigarette on her mouth she approached Bron.
"Well, well," the waitress said with a playful smile, removing the cigarette from her lips. "Bron actually came back alive this time."
Bron chuckled and crossed his arms. "You say that every single time I visit."
"And every single time I'm surprised." Her eyes shifted toward Kier and Clad. "New faces?"
"You could say that," Bron answered. "The quiet one is Kier, and the big guy over there is Clad."
Clad gave a short nod while Kier simply stared around the tavern.
The place was loud, but not unpleasant. Wooden mugs slammed against tables, dice rolled across boards, and somewhere in the corner a man played a string instrument while others sang terribly alongside him.
"You picked a busy night," the waitress said. "Tournament visitors flooded the city since the afternoon. Half the people in here are betting their life savings for who they think ."
"Most of them will lose in the first round," Bron replied bluntly.
The waitress laughed before motioning them to follow. "Come on then. I've got a table in the back."
As they walked through the tavern, Kier noticed several mercenaries eyeing Bron. Some recognized him, others simply moved out of the way because of Clad's size.
One man even lowered his voice the moment they passed.
"That's him, right?"
"The Silver Fang?" another whispered.
Kier narrowed his eyes slightly.
'Silver Fang?'
Bron acted as though he hadn't heard a thing.
They eventually reached a quieter section near the back wall. The waitress placed three menus on the table before leaning slightly closer toward Bron.
"You're betting too?" she asked.
"No," Bron answered. "But if I was I would bet on him."
He pointed directly at Kier.
For a moment, the waitress looked surprised. Then her gaze carefully scanned him from head to toe.
"Him?"
Kier frowned immediately. "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," she said quickly with a grin. "You just don't look like the type."
"And what type is that supposed to be?"
"The crazy ones who throw themselves into arenas filled with armed fighters."
Clad let out a deep laugh while Bron smirked.
"You'll change your mind tomorrow," Bron said confidently.
The waitress raised an eyebrow before writing something onto her small notepad.
"We'll see. For now, what are you eating?"
Before anyone could answer, a loud crash echoed from the center of the tavern.
A chair scraped violently across the floor, and suddenly the entire room fell quiet.
Kier turned his head toward the disturbance.
Three men stood near one of the tables, surrounding a younger boy no older than sixteen. One of them had grabbed him by the collar while the others laughed.
"You trying to cheat us?" the tallest man growled.
The frightened boy shook his head desperately. "I-I didn't do anything!"
The tavern owner froze behind the counter. Nobody moved.
Kier noticed something immediately.
Everyone was avoiding eye contact with the three men.
Even the mercenaries stayed seated.
Bron slowly leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"Looks like trouble found us before dinner."