Late Spring of the Thirteenth Year
Accepting Quests
Quests are not simply laid out by the GM to the players, but introduced to the PCs in ways that let the party decide whether to participate or not, or to what degree they want to help the quest giver.
However, frequent exposure to danger can cause players to shy away from riskier ventures, causing stories to go untold and drawing an early, boring curtain on the party’s tale.
I liked many things about the Trialist Empire, but one of my absolute top picks would have to be the lack of an obnoxious rainy season. With the delightfully dry summer right around the corner, I had completely given up on worrying about my employer.
Lady Agrippina still kept in touch. Her instructions to Elisa about homework never ceased, and she made sure to leave any necessary money on her desk for us to take, so she was verifiably alive and well—er, she was still alive.
I still had no idea what had actually happened to her, but seeing Lady Leizniz going about her business as jubilation personified was proof enough that whatever fate had befallen the madam was unspeakably horrific.
I was running bets in my mind on what sort of mess Lady Agrippina had gotten herself into, complete with winning odds:
i. A powerful authority had captured her and was putting her through the wringer for her disregard for every rule in the book. One-point-one-two odds.
ii. Relatives from her motherland had come to visit with all sorts of family drama (like an arranged marriage). One-point-seven-five odds.
iii. The Empire was employing her as an expert for a secret project and had confined her for the duration of her service. Three-point-six odds.
iv. Some gentleman or another was chasing her around out of love. Twelve-point-four odds.
There wasn’t much to it, but personally, I was gunning for either ii or iv. I would enjoy nothing more than to see that loathsome creature chained by the collar of marriage. Think about it: the sight of that woman scowling in bridal uniform would make for the perfect blackmail, and double as an unforgettable moment to look back upon whenever I needed a hearty laugh.
Of course, that required the unlikely event that there was a man somewhere on this planet that could rein in that utter beast, but still. Putting my tasteless mockery aside, I’d taken some time off from running my street stall to replenish my wares, and I finally had a solid-enough stockpile to warrant opening up again.
“Boy, the weather’s perfect for business today.”
“You’ve got that right, Mika.”
The only difference was that today, I had my old chum sitting beside me.
While I’d been working on my products, he’d complained about having trouble with sculpting fine metal ornaments. Aesthetics were an integral part of architecture: one could get away with boring and pragmatic designs in times of need, but a proper building was meant to please the eye. Symbolic patterns and stone statues to serve as watchmen were indispensable for a complete work.
As an oikodomurge hopeful, he’d been told to practice until he could make something of respectable make; as it turned out, that was easier said than done.
Mika certainly had artistic talent, especially when drawing buildings or blueprints. Having seen some of the sketches he made on used scrap sheets, I was sure he could run a small business as a street artist if he got his hands on some real paper.
However, he discovered that his talents in rendering architecture on paper did not translate to proficiency with three-dimensional bodies. When he tried to sculpt a gargoyle meant to decorate the corner of a roof as a gutter, his attempt had amounted to a mushy facsimile of the original model.
When he showed me, the palm-sized lump of clay had been...well, it wasn’t an idol of an evil god or anything, but it reminded me of a kid’s toy that might come attached to a magazine subscription. I could still see the vision, but the shaping was a bit off at every corner, and he clearly hadn’t been sure where to add definition and where to smooth things out; it had all the detail of a felt doll.
My idea to help my struggling friend was to show him my homemade ehrengarde pieces. I figured it would be easier to take note of his own mistakes if he had the original on hand to compare his work to, and if we bought some used scrap metals, he could wrap the foils around the figures to get a more intuitive understanding of their composition.
This plan worked wonders. It had been a long road, seeing as how Mika had churned out a few dozen more failures—we had to turn them back into malleable clay with magic every time—but by the end, he’d been creating proper eye candy.
As we practiced, I’d thought to myself that all this time, effort, and mana would go to waste if we didn’t earn a bit of profit on the way. And so, Mika plus Erich had birthed a set of metal ehrengarde pieces. They weren’t solid metal, but rather plated versions of my wooden statuettes. They were also all fully painted, so my new lineup was far more stylish than the old woodworks I’d been selling.
I’d thought to peddle these on Mika’s behalf to help my buddy pay their College fees, but they insisted on not letting me do all the work of running the stall, so here they were. As a result, the two of us were both getting ready for a day of selling board game pieces.
Mika was a strong enough player to hold their own against me, so this meant we could hustle twice as many customers as before. According to them, there were oodles of master players in the North on account of everyone being snowed in all winter, every winter. As a child, they’d played with their parents and siblings until the pieces began to wear. I could see why they’d said, “I’m pretty familiar with the game”—big words for someone who was always so humble.
As we lined up our two tables next to each other—selling as a pair also meant we had to rent a pair of permits—Mika began to mumble anxiously.
“I’m kinda worried they won’t sell... We jacked up the prices a lot.”
“Don’t worry about it, old chum. Look how glorious these are.”
I picked up a piece and felt the cool metal on my fingertips. Playing with it to show its silvery gloss, it looked like a real knight had been shrunk down to the size of my palm. Not only was he clad in plate armor, but even his trusty steed was fully equipped; with a piece this heavily clad, no pawn would ever take him down—the rules be damned. They were expensive to produce and we were selling them for five librae a pop, but I was sure we’d clean house.
Lovers of ehrengarde were mostly also lovers of collection. Lining up their favorite troops and telling the stories of where they got them was a frequent diversion during postgame analyses.
“They’ll sell,” I assured them. “Personally, I’d want a whole set of pieces like these.”
I placed my lips on the realization of our craftsmanship and flashed Mika a smile to try and calm their nerves, but for whatever reason, all I got in return was a dubious stare.
Wh-What? Did I do something? Maybe I tried a bit too hard to be cool...
“It’s just...you’re not that convincing when you have something that’ll definitely sell out on the table next to mine...”
With a sulking tone, Mika’s gaze drifted over to the items I’d created on my own time: the Smokeshow Army series.
“No, uh, this isn’t—hey, wait! Don’t act like you weren’t on board with this!”
“Yeah, when I was a boy! But now that I have my wits about me, this is scandalous! Look at how much leg she’s showing!”
Back when I’d fulfilled my promise to the ogre to carve up a purdy ogre warrior, a handful of other customers who’d seen the piece asked me to make them something similar. Men lusted no matter the day or age, it seemed, and my realization that figures of stimulating women were quick to sell had soon gotten the better of me.
I’d made a knight whose garments only covered her chest and hips, leaving the underside of her breasts, her stomach, and her limbs at the mercy of the elements; a dragon knight who playfully coiled her legs around a massive drake’s neck; a messenger who ferried her correspondence in an absolutely monumental bosom.
I had given form to every fleshly idea I could come up with, and before shifting back to agender, Mika had been all for it. In fact, he’d given me suggestions for new boneheaded motifs; talking shop as one of the boys again for the first time in a long while had gotten to my head, and I’d mass-produced a whole series of the things.
I’d made a pawn wearing armor too big for her, exposing her legs; an empress in sensationally thin silk, crossing her legs atop her throne with ostentatious flair; an archer who—oh, what was I even thinking with this one—let her bow dig into her chest to accentuate her body lines. One glance at any of them was enough to uncover the proclivities of their creator, and here lay an entire army of them...
My subsequent attempts to win back my friend’s respect failed spectacularly, and I began the workday with a cloud over my head. Dammit... You’re an accomplice! Why do you get a free pass just because your sex changed?!
Mood aside, however, our business went swimmingly. The metal pieces were selling at a good pace, and we found our demographic with show-offs who were looking to splurge.
Admittedly, Mika had been right: the Smokeshow Army sold out almost instantly, and I had a mountain of requests for new designs to build. All the disgusted stares from the good women of town did hurt a tiny bit—oh, say, just as much as stepping straight on top of a D4.
But other than my mental damage and the litany of failed social conduct saving throws, business was booming. Mika’s tight schedule and budget wouldn’t allow us to do this every day, but by my estimate, we could make around fifty librae a month like this; skill truly was man’s greatest ally in his time of need. I was once again reminded how my father from a lifetime ago had told me to study, his constant refrain that, if nothing else, an education would never be a detriment.
We continued making sales in between grinding challengers to dust, and I could feel my brain tiring out by evening. I stretched, loosening up my tightened muscles as I stalled closing up for the day. The girl more interested in games than pieces had failed to show up. It wasn’t as if we had a spoken friendship, and I’d taken some time off, so it was only natural for her not to be around.
Still, I couldn’t deny that I’d been looking forward to playing that worthy rival of mine; Mika had been curious to see how they’d stack up against her too. For all the profit we made—the Smokeshow Army raked in almost five librae on its own—it was a disappointing end to the day.
No matter how populous the capital was, most of its citizens were day dwellers. As the sun careened toward the horizon, our fellow merchants packed up one after another until we followed suit. All we had left was a plain set of tables and chairs and one set worth of ehrengarde pieces, so the cleanup was easy.
We needed to stop by my house to stash away our earnings and tools, but after that, I thought it might be nice to grab Elisa and go to the public bath with the three of us. Our payday meant we could afford a nicer bathhouse for the night.
My sister was more used to Lady Agrippina’s personal tub complete with scented oils than a public space, but I was sure she’d still have fun. She was still little enough to take into the men’s side with us, so we wouldn’t have to worry about her getting lost.
“A bath sounds nice,” Mika agreed.
“Right? Which one should we go to? I’m thinking that we can afford to splurge.”
“I’d rather keep the bath simple and eat a nice meal, personally.”
The heft of my purse put me in a cheery mood, and we happily gabbed about our plans as we turned into an alleyway that served as a shortcut home. Suddenly, a peculiar sound caught our attention. Foot traffic had abandoned this back alley, so it was coming from somewhere else...from above.
A high-pitched clattering interspersed with the sound of something breaking: somebody was running across the shingles on the rooftop.
It went without saying that it was out of the ordinary for someone to walk on top of the roofs in the capital. Every now and again, a light-footed stuart or someone naturally capable of mystic flight like a siren would do so out of laziness, but the risk of property damage meant that the city guard was quick to shout them down.
I won’t lie: the clusters of tall buildings did make it enticing to jump from rooftop to rooftop like a hooded assassin, but it really did cause trouble, so the good boys and girls at home would do well to not try for themselves. Shingles were surprisingly expensive to manufacture, and repairing something that high up cost an exorbitant fee; anyone who broke them could kiss their wallet goodbye.
What all of this meant was that anyone who rushed across rooftops was sure to be a walking problem magnet to be avoided at all costs. Whether it was a turf war between thugs or a frantic chase between secret agents, the situation was certainly not something I would benefit from sticking my head into.
Thankfully, the sound was a block or so away. All we had to do was shut up and wait for it to pass. As if on cue, Mika and I looked at one another and nodded in unison without a word. After slogging through the ichor maze together, we’d learned an unforgettable lesson that loomed over our collective consciousness: stay as far from danger as humanly possible.
In perfect sync, we hid in the shadows of a stack of wooden crates by the side of the walkway and waited for the footsteps to pass. Just in case, we poked our heads up to keep an eye out...
Huh. The sound is getting closer. This is unlucky, even for me...
I prayed that they wouldn’t come toward us, and my prayer was sort of answered: the footsteps were approaching from the top of the building opposite us. At this rate, they’d most likely jump clear over our alleyway and onto the rooftop behind us.
Yes, keep going! I don’t know what your deal is, but so long as you don’t stop now...
The next instant, the catastrophic sound of a shattering shingle filled my ears. Municipal services paid for the upkeep of the capital’s architecture to keep up appearances, but the finite budget couldn’t cover every forgotten roof that faced a desolate alleyway. Years of neglect had left several unseen spots in Berylin weak and rotting.
Whoever this mystery person was, their luck was even worse than mine. The final, most important step before leaping across the gap had been the one to snap a derelict shingle. As it exploded underfoot, the shards scattered and revealed the silhouette of a person falling with the blazing sunset at their back.
Oh, they’re going to die.
The person was falling upside down—a mensch’s center of gravity was toward the head, so it took technique to fall upright. I wove together my Unseen Hands out of pure reflex. They were some thirty meters away: well within reach. My fleet of appendages grabbed onto shoulders, thighs, and hips, slowly decelerating them to land without injury.
My artificial sense of touch brought back a bewitching softness; I had to fight off my instinctive desire to let my fingers sink in for more.
Give me a break, okay?! I was stuck in the body of a middle schooler!
No, forget it. More importantly, what the hell was I doing? Sure, seeing someone fall to their death would sour the mood after a good day of work, but getting involved with someone this clearly troublesome couldn’t have been the right answer. I knew from the last adventure that everything I touched turned to disaster.
“Huh? How did...”
The shadowy figure grasped at her body in disbelief; I, too, shared her amazement. Her familiar voice, outfit, and shimmering lunar pendant spoke to an unbelievable truth: the Night Goddess priestess had fallen from the sky.
“Wh-What are you doing here?” I stammered.
“Uh, Erich?” Mika tugged at my sleeve, but I’d already stepped out of cover in pure bewilderment.
“You’re...the piecemaker?” she asked. “How have you found yourself here?”
“That’s my line,” I retorted. “Why were you on the roof? You were moments away from falling to your death.”
“Well... Um, more importantly, thank you for...” The priestess looked me over. “You are the one who helped me, are you not?”
From appearances alone, I didn’t have any means of catching someone’s fall. I looked like any other commoner in my linen shirt and pants, and nothing on my person suggested I could use magic.
Had Mika walked out with me, she surely would have looked to them instead. They had on their usual robes and had their wand on hand.
“Oh, man oh man, why is this happening?”
Speaking of which, my old chum was cradling their head and mumbling in the corner, and I was feeling much the same. In what universe was I supposed to expect to reunite with an acquaintance from my side venture in such exasperating circumstances? The chances had to be astronomically small.
But for now, we didn’t have time to be worrying about things like that. Another set of footsteps could be heard growing nearer from above. Whoever was chasing her was closing in on us, and I had three options for how I could handle this.
First, I could pretend I hadn’t seen anything, grab Mika by the hand, and run away as fast as possible. I would probably never see the priestess again, and Mika might lose some respect for me, but this would be the path of least resistance.
Second, I could turn the girl in for some kind of monetary reward. I would definitely never see her again, and Mika would be genuinely upset with me, but this was about as safe as the first option. The only way this could go wrong would be if the pursuants weren’t the type to let witnesses live.
Third... Oh, come on! This was the only real choice! The quixotic dream crap aside, what kind of man doesn’t save a girl in need?!
“Wha—hey!”
I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to a nearby door, summoning a Hand on the other side. Among all the add-ons I’d taken for the spell, Third Hand and the tactile feedback it offered was so universally broken that I thought it ought to be listed in an errata sheet for future editions of this setting: after all, it let me grope around and unlatch a deadbolt I couldn’t even see.
“Get in, quick,” I ordered. “Take care of her, Mika.”
“Wh-What?”
“Jeez,” Mika sighed. “Never a dull moment with you around, Erich. Come with me, miss—and not a peep from here on out, all right?”
The priest was stupefied by how the door had opened, by the strangely cooperative piecemaker whom she’d explained nothing to, by the mage going along with it all with a weary smile, and by the still-unexplained mystery of how she’d landed safely. Yet for all her confusion, she sneaked into the quiet room, and I took my post just outside to keep an eye on the people chasing her.
The approaching footsteps were far lighter than hers, and their minimal sound profile spoke to a great deal of experience. Not to say they were an expert traceur, but rather that they’d trained to run on uneven ground.
“There’s a broken shingle this way!”
“I don’t see her! She might’ve dropped into the alleyways! Comb the gutters!”
“Fan out, dammit! We need to surround her!”
There were multiple people after her: with a little focus I could make out five sets of footsteps. What on earth had she done to get five skilled trackers on her tail? Or perhaps she hadn’t done anything; it was just as possible that she simply had something that they desired.
I could hear one of them break away from the crowd toward us, and she deftly made her way down into the alley. She used nearby eaves, decorations, and uneven segments of the wall to climb down without making any real noise.
The woman was tall and clad in simple yet well-made armor; her sheath had a dagger in it, despite being within city limits. Every aspect of her appearance spoke to her stature: she was a noble’s personal steward, and a high-level one entrusted as both a secretary and bodyguard.
I caught a whiff of a classy perfume carefully tuned to not be overstated as she approached me. I was pretending to loiter about by the door, and I looked up to see a chestnut-haired mensch. Her razor-sharp features were made even more menacing by her stern expression; a child more easily scared than me would have started bawling.
“You there,” she said. “Do you have a moment?”
“Um...yeah?”
I played the part of a passerby utterly dumbfounded by some woman who’d rained down from the sky perfectly. I couldn’t claim that it was the product of my role-playing experience, though, as I literally was exactly that. All I had to do was let my palatial speech slip, and I no longer had a need to act. I was confident that the GM would give me a bonus here even if I elected to roll for Persuasion and not Bluff.
“Did anyone come through here? I’d be grateful for any useful information.”
This was a typical way of striking deals with the lower class, and from how she flashed a silver coin, this was far from her first negotiation. People were the most sincere when incentivized by a reward that suited their wallets: too little and they’d lose interest, but too much and they’d overshare in a panic. A libra was perfect to get the info she needed in as little time as possible.
“I saw someone jump across the buildings just like you, miss. Boy, that spooked me. I was on my way home from selling stuff at the market when a shingle whizzed by me! I thought I was gonna die!”
I kept my lies and truths equally mixed. I still had a folding table, chair, and ehrengarde box on me, so I really looked the part of a random bystander. Of course, I happened to be a random bystander who had a soft spot for scenes where floating girls were caught after they rained down from, say, a castle in the sky, but she didn’t know that.
“Thank you, that helps. Treat yourself to a nice dinner tonight.”
The woman placed the coin on the box of figurines I was cradling, and climbed back up the way she came with the same finesse as her descent.
...Holy moly. I couldn’t pick up any trace of mana, so she’d scaled the wall with physical prowess alone. I wonder if I can learn to do that. I’m sure it’d come in handy during an urban campaign.
Ah, but I couldn’t let my TRPG-addled brain get the better of me. If I ever tried to scramble around up there without the backing of some powerful noble, I was sure to be arrested by the city guard.
I waited to confirm that the pursuers were all out of the vicinity and slipped into the building with the other two. The only source of light was a tiny window, but I could make out enough with my Cat Eyes to tell we were in a storage room. Surrounded by heaps of filled sacks, the priest in hiding stood with a worried expression.
“What happened to my pursuants?” she asked.
“They left. I hinted that you jumped into a different alleyway, so we should be safe for the time being.”
Now it was time to hear her story. No normal priestess would have a noble’s subordinates chasing her down, but for all the trouble she represented, there was a rule older than tabletop games themselves: thou shalt help a maiden on the run.
[Tips] As the Empire’s showpiece to foreign ambassadors, buildings in the capital of vanity are tightly restricted so that all the roofs in any given district will be of equal height. This means that an average mensch confident in their leg muscles can use the rooftops as a convenient walkway. But beware: the crime of disrupting townscape upkeep is punished with a hefty fine of twenty-five librae or a month of unpaid labor.
“We’re in...” Mika summoned a dim orb of light. “...A warehouse?”
Indeed, our makeshift hideout was one of the many storehouses dotted throughout the city. Although the capital’s main purpose was to act as a hub of diplomacy, the large walls showed that it was prepared for a siege in dire times. The palace was a bastion for our executive government: it had a moat the size of a lake and four whole castles guarding it, not to mention the metropolis an invader would have to wade through to reach it.
Naturally, the crown needed to maintain supplies if they wanted to withstand a siege; there were imperial storage units all over the town. I suspected that either this alleyway entrance was only meant for when goods needed to be hauled out, or the dual deadbolts were spell-locked, only accessible by a mage.
I’d complained about my luck, but it seemed fortune hadn’t totally abandoned us. A deserted spot that no one would ordinarily be able to enter was perfect for laying low. Had we barged into someone’s home, the resident’s scream would have done us in.
“So, Erich,” Mika said with a furrowed brow and their hands on their hips. “Want to explain yourself?”
Noticing our tension, the priestess worriedly shifted her gaze between the two of us.
Yet I didn’t exactly have a good explanation. There was a girl, and a bunch of people were chasing said girl. The classics were classics for a reason, and the royal road dictates that she who is chased is innocent. Sure, sometimes the runaway damsel ends up being a thief or someone whose purpose is to drag the party into all kinds of tribulations, but that was a fun twist too, so I was all for it.
Jokes aside, I knew her. How could I cast her away without finding out what had happened? I explained to Mika and they put a hand to their face.
“Ah, so she’s the ehrengarde player... Fair game. Leaving her out to dry here would be too cruel.”
“Right? Besides, tons of sagas start with the protagonists sheltering a girl on the run.”
“I always knew you had it in you to be a hero, but this is grander than I expected.”
Mika’s exasperated but affable laugh let me know they were on board; we could start moving the discussion forward.
“Um,” the priestess interjected. “I’m very thankful for your help, but...why?”
“Like I explained to my old chum here,” I said, “I think it’s only natural to lend a hand to someone I know so well.”
Surprise was written all over her face, visible even through her concealing hood. She’d been clutching her medallion tight to fight her growing unease; now she was white-knuckling it.
“You saved me for that alone? Me, a stranger whose name you do not know?”
She couldn’t bring herself to believe me without reservation. True, common sense dictated that my reason for saving her was absurd: who would risk their own life for someone being chased by five people on a rooftop, especially when the pursuers were clearly being led by someone of considerable standing?
I wouldn’t—that is, if she truly were a stranger.
“We’ve enjoyed many a deep conversation,” I said. “I believe your decisions over the board speak volumes to your character.”
As hackneyed as it was, I considered this the truth. The realm of play was far more expressive than most gave it credit for, and I couldn’t count the number of times I’d thought to myself that a move was very like the person making it. Drawing from my experience, I’d decided this priestess was worthy of my trust—at least, enough for me to save her once and ask why she was being chased.
She froze in astonishment for a moment, but soon covered her lips to giggle in a very genteel way. “Then I suppose you are quite the untrustworthy gentleman.”
“Ha ha! She’s got you there, Erich.”
“...That’s fair. Looks like I’ll have to tally another loss for me.”
Ouch, I didn’t think she’d go there. I employed a lot of diversions, decoys, and baits to take major pieces; I couldn’t refute her. She preferred honest offensives using her emperor; I was the antithesis of her fair playstyle.
“But as devious as you are,” she added, “I know well that a friend is more valuable than small change.”
We laughed for a spell, and then I showed her the silver piece the woman had given me outside. The priestess bit her tongue as if there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t bring herself to.
Hm? If I remembered correctly, this coin had been minted to celebrate someone named Archbishop Lampel. Lampel the Hairless had been some big shot theologian who earned a place on our currency with a particularly noteworthy dissertation, and these usually went for twenty percent more than a libra on account of their good make.
Why had the priestess’s expression clouded up upon seeing the silver piece? While I would have loved to roll for perception, the answer didn’t seem too hard to find: whoever was after her was almost guaranteed to be someone she knew well, like a member of her immediate family. Coupling the noble bodyguard I’d spoken with earlier with her refined mannerisms let me see the big picture on my own. The priestess was probably heartbroken that they’d stoop to such low tactics in order to hunt her down.
Had she been the type of mademoiselle to throw a tantrum saying, “How dare she buy my whereabouts with this cheap coinage!” then I could have ignored her without a slight on my conscience, but alas.
“So,” I asked, “why are you being chased?”
“Huh? Oh, um...”
Not having expected me to get right into the real issue at hand, the girl reeled and her eyes darted between me and the floor.
Whoops, I shouldn’t have been that hasty. We’re barely acquainted, so nothing good will come from rushing her. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t wish to. I only asked in the hopes of helping a good friend and rival.”
Choosing whether to press or withdraw based on another person’s reaction to a question was difficult, and one wrong move could immediately end the conversation. She seemed hesitant to divulge—and not in the way where she might ostensibly be inviting me to pry—so I figured it was best not to overstep my bounds.
“Still,” I said, “may I ask for a name, at least? I am Erich of Konigstuhl, a piddling servant to a magus.”
“And I am Mika, but one humble student sullying the seats of the College, studying with the Hannawald cadre within the School of First Light.”
As the two of us bowed together, the priestess pondered for a moment, still holding her holy icon close. At last, she made up her mind: her hand reached up and she removed her hood.
“I am Cecilia. I am a lowly priestess who offers prayer to the Night Goddess with the Circle Immaculate from a church on Fullbright Hill.”
Her unveiled visage was that of the moon on a foggy night, freshly revealed by a crisp breeze: her image was vivid as it was enchanting. Her skin was profoundly fair, but retained a vibrant vivacity all the same; the unblemished palette of white was accented by lips pinker than the most brilliant cherry blossom. My assumptions of her stature were reinforced by the dignified garnets gleaming deep brown in her long-slit eyes, accentuated by the lighter chestnut of her long, straight hair coming down sharply to decorate the bridge of her nose.
Childlike roundness lingered in her beautiful features, but the glimmering will that shone through her windows to the soul did away with such immaturity in favor of raw captivation. It was almost difficult to believe that a person could be born so empyreal in appearance.
At once, my doubts disappeared: she was noble. Her unfathomable elegance, poise, and command of upper-tier palatial speech betrayed the tale of a young lady running away from home. I could see why she might want to conceal her backstory. I had no doubt she’d found herself here after making a daring escape in order to elude some terrible injustice.
Once again, Mika and I didn’t need any outward cue to exchange glances. And again, we nodded in unison with the same thought in mind: let’s help her.
“In that case,” I said, “we won’t delve any deeper into your personal affairs, Miss Cecilia.”
“Agreed,” they echoed. “We should try and leave the area quickly, so if you don’t wish to answer, I will not ask. Any friend of my old pal is a friend of mine, after all.”
Mika’s closing statement left me beaming. I raised a fist their way and they knocked their own against it without missing a beat.
“But wherever to?” Miss Cecilia asked. “There are already lookouts on the rooftops, and they’ll occupy the streets soon enough...”
She was clearly unable to keep up with the rapid developments, and surely would have had steam wafting off her thick robes had this been a manga. Although she was quick to move in ehrengarde, the unpredictable events had overheated her brain.
And, I mean, I couldn’t blame her. I was some kid she barely knew who ran a board game piece shop; not only had I pulled out some wily tricks to save her, but I was now offering to see this through for nothing in return.
Who wouldn’t hesitate in a situation like this? If I’d been in her shoes, I would’ve been convinced this “Erich” character was going to betray me at the most critical point of the story. It was unthinkable for a chance meeting to be this perfectly arranged...but that was true from my perspective too.
“The blossoming capital’s artistry isn’t exclusive to the surface.” With a mischievous grin, I pointed toward a trapdoor hidden in the darkness of the room.
Let the urban adventure begin.
[Tips] Cityscapes are one of many different settings a TRPG can take place in. They are a far cry from dungeons, abandoned castles, and open plains, often requiring the party to interact with all sorts of characters to solve a mystery in the heart of a metropolis.
The pursuers had not been unleashed on a whim. The girl had escaped the estate with the help of sympathetic maids a little over two hours prior, so they had certainly been caught off guard; still, they made their moves with proper foresight.
Not only had the woman commanding the pursuit rounded up her most elite to give chase, but she’d sent messengers bearing the news of the girl’s escape to every corner of the city. Knowing that the target of her mission was important like no other—the girl drew from one of the most sublime bloodlines in the country and had even been raised in hiding until now—she’d already planned ahead for the slim possibility that her team would lose sight of their mark.
The captain of the search party had never expected to resolve the issue on her lonesome; the world was too imperfect for that. Impeccable planning and the best security money could buy still allowed some to slip through the cracks, and she was willing to endanger her reputation if it meant patching up even one more point of failure.
Accolades were only worth so much. The city guard scoffed at her, jeering about how overblown this was for a single girl on the run; the imperial guardsmen dug at her, asking if this was really worth their time. Even so, she did not waver: all the distinction in the world meant no more than a roadside pebble when weighed against the lord she venerated.
However, in other respects, one could even say that she was overly optimistic. Sincere diligence was of paramount importance in imperial high society, but that was not necessarily a universally held opinion. Some preferred to use the mistakes of others to line their own pockets.
Among the many officers tasked with deploying men in search of this missing person of interest, one had come up with a dastardly idea: if he were to find the child before anyone else and turn her in directly to her family without reporting to his superiors, the prize for his efforts was sure to be exorbitant.
These sorts of lowlives could be found wherever one went. So obsessed with their own well-being were they that a jingling sack of change was enough to buy any loyalty they had to goodness; this held true no matter how strict the moral code or how severe the penalty.
Just as the captain of the search went about life with an unwavering faith in the infallible nature of someone above, there existed scum who could imagine nothing more sacrosanct than their own greed. Such was the duality of the world.
As a matter of course, a conniving cur could only employ conniving tricks. He took one look at his available pieces, and after sending his subordinates off on the job, he turned to his source of alternative income.
The shadows of the sprawling city were home to unscrupulous folk willing to toe the line of legality, if not boldly step into the realm of the illicit. These criminals called the sewers of Berylin their home. While certain circumstances prevented them from setting up a permanent headquarters, they were much in their element when moving around beneath the earth—a fact that coincided to a predestined degree with the capital’s subterranean infrastructure.
Their position primed them for unlawful activity, and the shameless officer thought they would make the perfect pawns. Crooks were ever at the ready so long as one had the cash to buy them, and soon they would gather their men, tap into their streams of intelligence, and get feet on the ground to find the girl.
Most of the gangsters fanned out through the city’s underground passageways, expecting to surface at different points around town to continue their investigation there. The unseen network of tunnels was only ever home to them and the occasional state official there to maintain the system; no normal person would ever be found there, let alone the young lady they were hunting.
Indeed, one could consider it no less than a bizarre twist of fate that destiny had prepared for them a violent surprise.
[Tips] The imperial underground waterways—or the sewers for short—are a hybrid aqueduct and sewage-treatment system that span the underground levels of the capital. Countless pipes sprawl in every which direction, and many walkable passageways have been constructed alongside them for upkeep purposes.
Only maintenance personnel and College affiliates are allowed to enter, but the expansive network of tunnels is impossible to police effectively, even for the crown jewel of the Rhinian state.
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