Chapter 32: Koralis.

“I have escorted many to Koralis,” the Inker said. “I have gone out of the city many times. This is perhaps the first time any of these trips has almost gotten me killed.” The Inker said dryly.

The road was wide and the morning was clear. The column moved at a steady pace, and the Inker walked between Ash and me. It had not been long, and yet he looked older now than when we’d left Hamel. I glanced at him and said nothing. “An attack by those Smears, a confrontation with a Rune-bearer of all people, and a theft that ended with a man losing his arm in the back alley of an inn.” He counted each item on his fingers. “I have never had a more eventful trip this close to the city. I do not think I would even if I headed East.”

“The man was fortunate,” I said. “I might have killed him instead.”

The Inker pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I have little doubt you might have. At the very least, you and your companion did not kill him. That would have led to questions or an investigation, both of which would have led to yet more delays. More of these delays, and I suspect something else would happen instead.”

The Inker walked ahead now. Ash walked to my side. Her stride was even. She had been quiet since we’d left the inn. She only answered when I pressed her, which was altogether the opposite of how most of our days went.

“I trust,” the Inker continued, “that you both acknowledge my role in…settling the matter at the inn?”

Ash and I looked at each other. I supposed that the man had, to his credit, handled the aftermath with some efficiency at least. He had paid the innkeeper for damages, had silenced the two remaining men with threats, and had arranged for the injured man to be arrested. That was not nothing, though it wasn’t far either.

“We do,” Ash said, her voice low.

“And you will remember this, when we meet the Archon?”

Ash nodded. “We will.”

The Inker held her gaze for a moment, then mine. He nodded slowly. There was a quiet in the column after that. The soldiers marched and the road stretched ahead. There was less and less farmland and fewer villages the more we walked, which I took as a sign that we were nearing our destination.

I adjusted the satchel at my shoulder. Through the cloth, the egg pressed warm against my hip. I had checked it four times since we’d left. The shell was whole and its pulse was steady. My hand lingered on the strap a moment longer than it needed to, and then I let it fall. I would never allow an event like that to happen again. “Perhaps,” I said loudly, “you might explain Essence Cores today.”

The Inker stared at me. “There is no point,” he said flatly. “As I said yesterday, you cannot even form Essence yet. An Essence Core requires Essence at the bare minimum, and more besides. It is like asking me to teach you to swim when you have not yet found the water.”

“Ash,” I said. “Would you like to demonstrate, or shall I?”

The Inker looked between us, confusion plain on his face. “What are you-“

Ash raised her left hand. She drew mana through her mark, and the air around her hand slowly grew heavier. There was no visible change, but I felt it -the weight of something denser than mana. It carried the taste of separation. Odd, that even something like that has a taste. This new world was a strange place.

The Inker went still. For a few steps, he wasn’t walking at all. He violently shook himself, before hurrying to catch up. “That cannot be,” he whispered. “That cannot be possible. In only a day? How is that-“

“How dare you,” I cut him off, letting my voice carry all of the offense a Queen should feel at such an insult. “It did not take a full day.”

The Inker stared at me. “T-then…?”

“Half an hour.” I folded my arms. “You were right about one thing. It was difficult.” I turned to Ash. “How long did it take you?”

Ash shrugged. “A bit longer, maybe. An hour or two? I was practicing on the road.”

I stared at her. “You were hiding this from me?”

Ash smiled, the first real one I had seen from her since the alley. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

I held her gaze for a moment and felt something ease inside my chest. I should have been upset at the duplicity but…it didn’t truly matter. Whatever shadow had settled over the Hero last night, it seemed she had found her way out from under it. Good. It would be rather inconvenient to have a gloomy retainer.

Behind us, the Inker was making sounds that suggested he had forgotten how to breathe. I gave him a moment to recover before I spoke again. “Now then, do explain these Essence Cores. Perhaps I will have one by the time I enter this ‘great city’ you are leading us to.”

The Inker shook his head. The motion was violent enough that his robes swayed. “No. No. We are hours away from the Archon. You will ask him. I am not- I will not-” He cut himself off, pressed both hands against his face, and exhaled through his fingers. “Ask the Archon.”

I sighed. I did not understand the man’s reluctance. He had told us about Essence easily enough. Perhaps it could wait for a few hours. “I suppose it can’t be helped, then.”

We walked in silence for a time. The road widened further as we drew closer to the city. More travellers appeared on the road, many of them glancing at our column of silver soldiers with varying degrees of interest and wariness.

The Inker spoke again some time later. His voice had settled into something more composed, though his gaze kept drifting to our covered arms. “There is something I must insist upon before we enter the city.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Most people in Koralis, and in most cities and towns, bear their marks openly. It is a point of pride. You will see this the moment we pass through the first gate.” He paused. “Under no circumstances should either of you have your arms bare.”

Ash and I exchanged a look. We had not planned to. The instruction was unnecessary, but the reasoning behind it was plain enough. Perhaps he simply wished to avoid another attack, though how anyone could tell the difference between the orders of marks, was still a mystery to me.

“Fine,” I said. Ash nodded too.

The Inker seemed almost surprised by the ease of our agreement. He nodded once, quickly. “Good. Good. That will make things…simpler.”

We crested the final hill, and there it was. Koralis sat upon a steep hill like a crown upon a head.

The city had three rings of walls, each one higher up on the hill than the last. The lowest of these walls was made of dark stone, so dark it was almost black. The second layer of wall was lighter stone, and even from this distance I could make out strange carvings along its face. The third ring, near the summit, was a near-white. That one was almost uncomfortable to look upon and it glowed in the light.

My hand found the cord at my collar. The clay bead sat against my skin, warm from the heat of my body. I held it for a moment and then let go. I wondered if Sara would ever see this. No, I would ensure that she did.

I had seen fortresses and had built one myself. My fortress had been far taller and far grander, carved out of stone so dark it drank the light. One that could withstand almost any attack and not crumble. This was not my castle, but I supposed that it was adequate all the same.

My eyes traced the walls the way they always had. The first gate was the most obvious choke point, and doubtless the distance between each ring was its own kind of defense. The gradient of the hill itself would slow any force, while giving archers and mages a considerable advantage.

Perhaps this was a good design after all. I had certainly seen worse. One that wouldn’t have mattered in front of my former power, but good enough. I caught myself. I was not here to conquer this city.

I found myself thinking of Morrigan. My General. My confidant, though the word sat strangely in my mind. She was out there, somewhere, and possessing the same corruption as the phoenix and the System itself. It was unlikely, but perhaps a city like this might have some answers.

The Inker had straightened beside me. His chin lifted as he gazed upon Koralis. The man had been shrinking for some time now, becoming less arrogant the closer we drew to this place. It was hard not to notice, given where he had started. Ash caught my eye. Neither of us said a word.

There were far more travellers here, merging onto a main path from smaller roads. There were merchants with laden carts, families walking on foot. A patrol of soldiers in silver armour and brown steeds rode past without acknowledging the Inker or our party at all. I tucked the satchel closer to my side. The egg pulsed once, warm against my hip.

The first gate led into a sea of noise, as loud as any battlefield I had ever been on.

Market stalls pressed against both sides of the road, so close that two carts could barely pass abreast. Merchants shouted at anyone who slowed, hawking their wares. There were more sights and smells in this one place than anywhere I had ever been. I had been to a few Elven and Dwarven cities before, and they hadn’t been like this. My first impression of Hamel had been that it was nothing. This Koralis might have been far too much.

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The Inker had been right, it was impossible not to notice the arms. Every man and woman had theirs bare. Most of those arms bore Sparks. A butcher hefted a carcass with both hands, and as he did, a single green Spark on his wrist pulsed. A woman lit a pipe with a snap of her fingers, her dark Spark flaring blue for an instant.

Then, there were the people who had more than just Sparks. Two women in leather armor strode through the market with their forearms angled outward in a way that could not be comfortable. They both had Lines, one green and one yellow. There was a man in silver robes walking in front of us who held his arms behind his back in a way that just happened to present his red Line to anyone walking behind him.

There were a handful more examples just like this. I knew this posture. I had seen it in every demon who had ever walked the halls of my Fortress with their mana flared a touch too bright. It was the confidence of the strong amongst the weak. Unless one had absolute power like I had once commanded, it was also one of the most absurd things one could do.

Then I saw the others. The few who did not have their arms bare, and who pressed them close to their sides. They moved at the edges of the crowds and nobody jostled them. The crowd simply flowed around them instead. “Heretic bastards….” One of the guards in front of me muttered when he looked in that direction.