Runes of Shadow's Path : The Veil of Dark Intentions64.00%

Chapter 32

I stood in the shadow of the city's sprawling towers, pondering my next move. It wasn't just the choice of location for my workshop that bothered me; it was the question of how deeply I wanted to entangle myself in this city's layers. Should I go unnoticed, perhaps set up shop in one of the poorer quarters where no one would question or even care about what I was doing? Or should I aim higher, hide among the wealthy, where everyone has secrets, and those who ask too many questions have a tendency to disappear?

Aetius, the dealer I planned to sell my goods to, had made quite the success of hiding in plain sight among the rich. It was a clever strategy, one that allowed him to operate under the radar of both the authorities and rival merchants. There was something appealing about that—a quiet, well-funded anonymity.

I had a decent amount of coin stashed in my inventory, but prices in this city? I had no idea how much it would cost to secure a place. The more I thought about it, the more it gnawed at me. I needed to figure out the lay of the land. I needed to explore.

So, I did what I did best—wandered. Aimlessly, or at least that's what it might have looked like to the casual observer. But I was taking note of everything. The layout of the streets, the different districts, the flow of people from place to place. The city was a living thing, and I had to learn how to move with it, where to push, where to pull.

As I strolled down one of the wide avenues, my eyes fell on one of the towers I had seen from the city's outskirts. I had wondered about them—looming, massive structures piercing the sky. No one seemed to talk much about them, but their presence was impossible to ignore. Today, I decided it was time to investigate.

With no particular hurry, I made my way toward the nearest one. The people in the streets, oddly enough, acted like it wasn't even there, as if these giant stone monoliths were just another part of the scenery. But to me, it was impossible not to gawk at the sheer scale of the thing.

The closer I got, the more surreal it became. The tower dominated everything around it. The buildings in its shadow, though large by themselves, seemed to shrink in its presence. And when I finally reached the massive plaza at its base, I had to stop dead in my tracks. I nearly fell over, craning my neck to look up at the colossal structure.

This wasn't just a tower. It was a mountain of stone that had been carved and stacked, soaring up into the heavens. Hundreds of feet, maybe more. I couldn't tell. My mind couldn't quite grasp the scale of it. It had to be at least a hundred stories tall. Solid stone, straight up, no tapering. It was like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.

The plaza around the base of the tower was even more of a shock. I'd expected maybe a small courtyard, a few people milling about, but this? It was a sprawling, four-hundred-meter square, bustling with life. Grand buildings encircled the square, each more imposing than the last. To one side, I spotted a building that looked like a grand town hall, its architecture ostentatious even by this city's standards—five stories of columns, arches, and intricate stone carvings. Every inch of it screamed wealth and power.

Directly across from it, I noticed another structure that could only be a bathhouse, given the constant stream of well-dressed patrons coming and going, their clothes neatly folded in the arms of waiting attendants. And beyond that? Some sort of hospital, or perhaps a hostel, with people moving in and out under the watchful eyes of heavily armed guards.

I almost missed it at first, but tucked into a corner of the plaza was something that piqued my interest—workshops. Real, working blacksmiths hammering away at the ground floor, carpenters and other tradesmen above them. The smoke from the forges drifted lazily into the sky, mixing with the distant sounds of hammers, saws, and the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal.

This was exactly what I needed—a mix of anonymity and opportunity. The workshops seemed close enough to the wealthy areas to provide a steady stream of clientele, yet far enough from the authorities to avoid too much scrutiny. It was the perfect blend of chaos and control.

I moved toward the workshops, weaving my way through the crowd. As I got closer, I could feel the heat from the forges, hear the sizzle of hot iron being plunged into water. It was a comforting sound, one that reminded me of my own early days working with runes and devices. Back then, it had been all about the craft. Now, it was about survival—and power.

The blacksmiths here were talented, no doubt, but their work lacked the finesse I was aiming for. Still, the setup was intriguing. Each level of the building housed a different trade, with the ground floor reserved for heavy work like metal and wood, while the upper levels catered to more delicate crafts—jewelers, glassworkers, and even a few rune carvers.

I couldn't help but imagine setting up shop here. A discreet, well-hidden workshop where I could tinker with my rune designs, free from prying eyes. Somewhere no one would think to look, but close enough to the city's heart that I wouldn't be completely isolated.

But there was something else pulling at me. That tower. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than met the eye. People were streaming in and out of the grand entrance at its base, most of them heavily armed and armored. Adventurers, maybe? Mercenaries? Whatever they were, they all seemed to have a purpose.

I stood there for a while, watching them come and go. There was an energy to this place, a tension that hummed just below the surface. People were on edge, like they were preparing for something. And yet, there was also a sense of excitement, like the kind that comes before a big event.

Whatever was happening here, it was important.

I approached the entrance cautiously, blending in with a small group of people making their way inside. No one gave me a second glance, which was exactly how I liked it. The doors were massive, carved from the same stone as the tower itself, and flanked by guards in gleaming armor. They stood at attention, barely acknowledging the flow of people coming and going.

Once inside, I found myself in a cavernous hall, the ceiling so high it disappeared into shadows. The walls were lined with banners and tapestries, each one depicting some heroic battle or noble family crest. The floor was polished stone, reflecting the soft glow of the torches lining the walls. And in the center of the room, a massive staircase spiraled upward, disappearing into the upper levels of the tower.

I lingered for a moment, taking it all in. This place was a fortress, a monument to the city's power and wealth. And yet, there was something else here, something just beneath the surface. I could feel it in the air, like a current of magic running through the stone itself.

I needed to know more.

But for now, I had a decision to make. Did I stay here, set up shop in the shadow of this tower, or did I retreat to the outskirts, where no one would notice me? There were advantages to both, but something told me this tower—this place—held more than just physical height. It held influence. And influence was exactly what I needed.

As I made my way back outside, the sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the plaza. The crowds were thinning, but the energy remained, buzzing just beneath the surface. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing at the edge of something big—something that could either make or break me.

As I approached the massive building across from the tower, the words etched into its stone façade in Latin caught my eye: Climbers Guild. I couldn't help but smirk at the idea. Climbing the tower? For what reason? Maybe they had an athletic obsession with scaling dangerous things here. The people bustling in and out of the building certainly didn't look like your typical mountain climbers. They were warriors, adventurers, each with weapons strapped to their backs, grim faces set with purpose. A motley crew dressed in every style imaginable, from worn leathers to shining plate armor. I figured this was the right place to start digging.

I stepped inside and was immediately hit by the noise. The entrance hall was grand, with high vaulted ceilings and marble floors that clicked underfoot. Rows of desks lined the room, each one manned by a clerk, and in front of each desk, adventurers—combatants—were exchanging small stones for money or tokens. There were barely any guards in sight, which struck me as strange. For a place handling this kind of transaction, you'd expect some security. But the ease with which everyone conducted their business, the lack of tension, made it clear: robbing this place would be akin to suicide. These people were confident, and confidence, in my experience, always came with a deadly edge.

I joined one of the shorter lines, watching as the people ahead of me handed over what looked like rune stones, receiving payment or sometimes just a curt nod from the clerks. The flow of business was almost mechanical, efficient, as though each person knew exactly what was expected of them. As I waited, my curiosity grew. What in the world was going on with this tower?

When I reached the front of the line, I found myself face to face with a young woman sitting behind the counter, her brown hair tied in a neat braid, her smile slightly shy but practiced. She looked me over, clearly assessing whether I was the real deal or some lost tourist.

"What level are you dropping off?" she asked, her voice polite, businesslike.

"Sorry, what?" I blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"Level," she repeated, her smile widening, though now it seemed tinged with amusement. "What level, please?"

There it was. The sinking realization that I had no clue what she was talking about. I could feel the heat rising to my face. Admitting ignorance is never a good look, especially in a city like this. But there wasn't much choice.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," I said, keeping my voice as smooth as possible. "I'm here to inquire about the tower. I'm new in the city."

Her eyebrows raised, and for a brief moment, her expression slipped into something between surprise and pity. New in the city? That was clearly the least exciting thing she'd heard today. I could almost feel the eyes of the people in line behind me boring into my back, probably wondering why I was wasting everyone's time.

She sighed lightly and lifted a sign from under the desk, directing the people behind me to the other available counters. "I'll be a while," she said, and waved me forward, closer to her desk.

"Okay," she said, settling into what was clearly going to be an explanation. "I'll put this down as a potential recruitment so I can explain properly. You really don't know about the towers?"

I shook my head, trying not to look as clueless as I felt. "I'm assuming they aren't just for decoration."

She let out a soft laugh at that, and I could see her demeanor shift—less formal, more relaxed. "The towers are magical," she began. "They use some kind of magic to draw in monsters from all over the surrounding regions. Honestly, I really do not understand how it works. Each floor of the tower contains monsters, and they get stronger the higher up you go."

Monsters. Well, that explained the hardened, battle-ready crowd. "And these climbers, they go in and—what? Fight these creatures?"

"Exactly," she said, nodding. "It's a bit like an ongoing test of strength. You kill monsters, bring back proof—usually a core or essence stone—and then exchange it for rewards here. The stones are magical, infused with the essence of the monsters, and they have value in crafting or as currency."

"Currency?" I repeated, glancing at the polished stone floor beneath my boots. I hadn't expected that.

"Yes, currency," she said, smiling at my surprise. "We use coins here too, but the monster stones are more valuable, depending on what level they're from. The higher the level, the stronger the monster, and the more valuable the stone."

"And you're saying people go in there willingly, risking their lives?"

"They do more than risk it," she said, her eyes glinting. "The ones who survive—who climb high enough—become legends. It's not just about the money. It's about status. Power. Influence." She paused, then added with a wink, "And a bit of glory doesn't hurt either."

I leaned back, considering her words. The tower wasn't just a structure. It was a system, a way for the city to reward strength and bravery. But more than that, it was an economy all its own, built on bloodshed and monster essence. This city… it really knew how to mix business and danger.

"So," she continued, clearly sensing my interest, "if you're looking to make a name for yourself, the tower's where you do it. But be careful. You're not the only one looking for power in there. It's competitive. And some of the climbers… let's just say they don't play fair."

I smirked at that. "Well, I've never been a fan of fair play myself."

Her shy smile returned. "I had a feeling." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "If you're serious about climbing, we could arrange something. A trial run, just to see how you do. A lot of newcomers go for it. You don't have to decide now."