Dawn cracked the horizon. Rodrigo crouched by the smoldering remains of their campfire, kicking dirt over the ashes to snuff out the last wisps of smoke. His machete rested against his pack, its etchings catching the early light with a faint pulse.
He glanced at Avange, who stood nearby, folding the ragged blanket they'd shared. The man moved stiffly, each motion soft, like someone shaking off a long sickness. Yet a hint of color warmed his gaunt face, like a step up from the ghostly pallor of the night before.
Rodrigo slung his pack over his shoulder, boots scuffing the dry earth. "You good to move?"
Avange nodded, tucking the blanket under his arm. "Good enough. Let's see this fancy city of yours." His voice carried a rough edge, but a spark flickered in his eyes, a trace of the soldier Rodrigo remembered.
They set off, the plains rolling gently beneath their feet. The wind carried a faint tang of metal and smoke, growing stronger with each step. Rodrigo felt the token in his pocket, its weight a quiet promise beside Franca's locket.
Ahead, there was the destination he'd chosen on instinct, driven by the heat in his chest and the recruiter's cryptic words.
The terrain rose into a low hill, and as they crested it, Blissford came into view. White stone walls curved in a perfect circle, and their surfaces were smooth and gleaming, laced with veins of steel that shimmered in the morning sun.
Towers spiked upward. Their roofs reflected light like polished mirrors, and a cool whir of energy pulsed faintly in the air. Essence, perhaps, or maybe it was something else.
A massive steel sign arched over the road, its bold letters glinting:
Welcome to Blissford – The City of Pleasurable Dreams!
Rodrigo stopped, taking it in. The sight was striking, a blend of elegance and power that dwarfed Havenport's gritty charm. He adjusted the machete at his side, and its warmth stirred in response to the city's presence.
But Avange? Well…
Avange burst into a hoarse laugh beside him. He slung an arm around Rodrigo's shoulders, leaning in close. "Pleasurable dreams, huh? Sounds like a brothel with extra steps." His grin turned sly, and he winked. "Bet they've got beds softer than your last girlfriend."
Rodrigo snorted, shoving him off playfully. "Keep dreaming, bitch. I'm here for training, not… that."
Avange chuckled, steadying himself. "Sure you are, Rodrigo. Sure you are."
They descended the hill, the city growing larger with each stride. The walls loomed taller, their steel accents catching the sun in sharp flashes. Rodrigo's boots crunched on the packed dirt road, Avange's steps quieter but uneven beside him.
The air thickened with a mix of scents such as fresh wheat, molten metal, and something floral he couldn't place. Roses? Lilies? Whatever. Blissford felt alive, pulsing with promise and secrets.
At the gates, two guards stood watch, their light armor glinting with a metallic sheen. Essence glowed faintly along the edges of their weapons, a spear for one, a short sword for the other, similar to Havenport's. It was a tradition for cities to have two guards standing in the entrance, with each holding a different weapon, so it'd explain both Havenport and Blissford to have some similarities.
Their eyes tracked Rodrigo and Avange as they approached, sharp and assessing. The spearman's gaze lingered on Avange, narrowing at his tattered clothes and unsteady gait.
"State your case, wanderers," the swordsman said, voice crisp, hand resting on his hilt.
Rodrigo stepped forward, keeping his posture relaxed but firm. "I'm heading in. I have something for you." He reached into his pocket, pulling out the Blissford recruiter token. The silver crest caught the light, its intricate design unmistakable.
The guards' demeanor shifted instantly.
The spearman straightened, snapping a quick salute, while the swordsman's hand dropped from his weapon. "Oh. OH! Apologies for the delay, sir!" the swordsman said, his tone respectful, almost deferential. "I didn't realize you were one of theirs. Welcome to Blissford, sir!"
Rodrigo nodded, tucking the token back into his pocket. The change was stark, from suspicion to reverence in a heartbeat. He glanced at Avange, who stood a step behind, watching the exchange with a faint smirk.
The spearman gestured toward the gate, his eyes flicking to Avange again. "Your friend's with you?"
"Yeah," Rodrigo said, voice steady. "He's mine."
The guards exchanged a look, then the swordsman waved them through. "Right this way, then. We'll escort you in." He paused, lowering his voice slightly. "Keep your friend out of trouble. The city's not kind to wanderers."
Rodrigo's jaw tightened, catching the veiled edge in the words. A warning, subtle but clear. He gave a curt nod, resting a hand on Avange's shoulder as they followed the guards. "Stick close," he murmured.
Avange's smirk faded, his gaze hardening. "Always do."
The gates swung open, revealing Blissford's interior, and Rodrigo's breath caught. Sky-tram tracks arced overhead, sleek carts gliding silently on cables of glowing crystal. Towers of glass and steel rose high, and their surfaces were shimmering.
Signs flickered with Essence-lit words. Shops, taverns, training halls, and they all cast some radiance over cobblestone streets. The air buzzed with activity, a blend of luxury and ambition that felt both inviting and overwhelming.
Rodrigo adjusted his pack, the machete's warmth a steady anchor against his thigh. This was no Havenport, with its dusty markets. Blissford gleamed, a city built on dreams and power, but something about its polish set his nerves on edge. He glanced at Avange, who shuffled beside him, eyes scanning the surroundings with a wary glint.
"Still smells like corruption," Avange muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Rodrigo to hear.
Rodrigo's brow furrowed, but he kept his focus forward. "What's that mean?"
Avange shrugged, a weak lift of his shoulders. "Just a feeling. You'll see."
The guards led them deeper, their boots clicking in unison on the stone. Citizens moved around them, and some soldiers were clad in fine cloaks or sleek armor, their weapons glowing with Essence. A woman passed with a staff that trailed sparks of violet light, her eyes sharp and distant. A man in a gilded vest adjusted a pair of glasses like the ones Eclipse had given Rodrigo, peering at a hovering orb of runes.
Blissford thrummed with purpose, every corner hinting at systems beyond Rodrigo's grasp.
The spearman glanced back. "You're headed to the orientation center. Guildhall's this way. They'll sort you out."
Rodrigo nodded, his hand brushing the token through his pocket. "What's it like? The training?"
The swordsman smirked, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Tough. Best in the realm. You'll see soon enough."
They turned a corner, and the Blissford Guildhall came into view. Its facade towered over the street, white stone carved with intricate patterns, steel spires piercing the sky. Essence lanterns flanked the entrance, their light steady and bright.
A crowd of recruits milled outside, some clutching tokens like his, others wielding weapons that shimmered with power. The air crackled with anticipation, a tension Rodrigo felt in his bones.
The guards stopped, saluting again. "Here you are, sir. Good luck."
Rodrigo returned a curt nod, then looked to Avange. "I'll be going. Guards, could you please give him a room and a bath, and maybe treat this man to the finest spa in the meantime?"
The guards didn't hesitate. "As you please." They flicked their gaze to Avange. "Come, we'll bring you to the best of our inns."
As the guards led him in the opposite direction, Avange glanced back at Rodrigo for a moment. His lips twitched into a faint grin, and he mouthed his words before turning away. "I'll be fine. Rooting for you, brother."
Rodrigo grinned back, warmth spreading through his chest. He stepped forward, the guards falling back as the gates neared. His pulse quickened, the heat in his chest stirring with each stride. The token had opened doors, flipped his standing from outsider to prospect in an instant. Blissford saw power, or at least its potential, and bent to it.
He wondered what trials waited inside, what tests would push his Strength Essence to its limits.
The gates parted, and they crossed the threshold, the city's hum enveloping them. Rodrigo gripped his machete, its pulse syncing with his heartbeat. Whatever lay ahead, luxury, ambition, or danger, he'd meet it head-on with his man Avange, whether he was by his side or not.