A sickly sky bleeding its color down the acres of dead land stretching endlessly around them, riddled with mountainous rocks, steep cliffs, and jutting parts of plants corroded by time. Sticky air through all of it, as if there in the winds was something eager to seep in underneath the skin.

Nothing seemed whole here. The sun was a broken thing gracing half the land, leaving the other half deserted. The ground gave in when he least expected it, breaking as though his feet pounded on brittle glass. His sound vision scarcely helped since the frequencies were rather alien for him to take in.

That was Valens’s first impression of the Broken Lands, and he had to admit there was some thought behind the name.

They marched in a single file through the boulders, down across worn paths, the crimson lights of the day roasting mercilessly their unprotected skin. Further in the distance was the promise of long walls and faint outlines of pointy towers which suggested there truly had been an effort at taming the land here in the Broken Lands.

It is a good change. A much-needed change. I don’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. This scarcity comes with its own unique sense of peace, I suppose.

There wasn’t much else to do anyway. You get dealt a new hand, you play it just fine. Nothing complicated. That was what Nomad had told him once, and by the look of him, he was rather diligent with his own suggestions.

“Do we just go in?” Selin muttered, one hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes squinted toward the distant city, the tails of her dress sweeping the dusty ground of this half-deserted area. “What if they ask questions?”

“Never been to Broken Lands before, eh?” Nomad shook his head. “People don’t ask questions here. There ain’t much sense in that.”

“Adventurers abide by different codes,” Celme said, looking somewhere between mildly bothered and slightly offended. “Money and stones are the most important ones of them. You pay your dues, you get a pass. They don’t care whether you’re out searching for a beast or a quest.”

“The duality of it, I suppose, is what makes the distinction of these worlds so interesting,” Valens commented. He’d heard many a wild thing about Broken Lands, the guild-owned city-states being one of them, and the notion that he would be visiting one soon brought the curious academic within him. “But surely they’re not barbaric people tearing through skin with their teeth? Self-interest isn’t a sin, is it?”

“You’re going to be one hot commodity in these lands, Val,” Nomad said, giving him a false smile through his recently fitted lips. “We just have to watch out that you don’t burn yourself in the middle of it.”

“Healers are always in high demand.” Celme nodded. “The mere mention of them will turn heads, especially in the Broken Lands.”

“That’s because the Divine Orders don’t let their Priests take active roles in this part of the sphere, right?” Valens said.

“It’s forbidden for them to meddle with Adventurer Guilds outside the city walls. You can get your cure by paying a handsome sum in certain sanctuaries, but that comes with its own risks. I don’t think we’ll see one in Ashen City. The Ashen Banner Guild is infamous for its quarrel against the Divine Orders.”

“What do they do, then, if they don’t have access to your Priests?” Valens asked.

“They have their Healers and hire outside help on certain occasions, but usually they get away by relying on old methods. People here are not weak.”

Oh? That sounds logical. Clumsy work or not, patching a wound would be enough in cases where the stats could do the rest of the job. It’ll still take some time, but it’s better than inviting a Divine Order into your city and risking them gaining influence, or paying someone an egregious amount just to save a week’s rest in a bed.

“If I keep it affordable and simple, then I daresay I can build myself a mansion out here in these troubled lands,” Valens said, earning a chuckle from Selin which eased the invisible tension gnawing at his neck.

He’d been trying not to think too much about what he had left behind, and that proved marginally harder than he expected. The primal side of his brain had been the most helpful, but it was the intelligent part that refused to be tricked by the thousand excuses he’d come up with since they used that Gate.

In these times, when things got heated in the depths of his mind, Valens often found it useful to make himself busy. Find something to latch on and pour his efforts into it. Healing people could work. Earning some money in the process would be just an extra part of it.

“I didn’t expect it to be this silent,” Valens said just then, having decided working his mouth was just as good to keep himself busy. “There are no monsters here.”

“Diligence of the Ashen Guild,” Celme said. “They must be doing regular cleaning around the city. Stray dwellers are not a big threat when they’re alone, but given enough time, they can build up something of a horde which becomes hard to deal with. The big ones would have their own territories.”

The animal-like behavior should be studied, but it looks like they’re different than mindless Hollows and Shriekers.

Those creatures Valens had come across in Haven’s Reach were lingering echoes of their true selves, mindless beasts out searching for anything alive, but taken under the rule of that Evercrest woman, they showed the insidious potential of their kind.

Give them a mind and a sense of purpose, though? Valens didn’t want to think about the result of such a devilish match in these lands.

…….

When Valens stepped under the shadow of the looming walls of the Ashen City, he saw men lined up high behind the parapets, gazing downward with bows strapped to their backs. Under their watchful gazes, the gate of the city had been tightly shut, bound with chains and a complicated mechanism that housed multiple manastones fashioned for the purpose.

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Like a circuit. So it is powered by mana?

It growled into motion as they stepped near to it, the faces of the guardians over the walls straining slightly. That showed Valens that while guests were uncommon to this city, they weren’t seen as threats to be eliminated so much as scrutinized for good measure.

And indeed, when the gate rambled widely open, it revealed a pair of guards dressed in adequately colored armors. Thick leather bound by strips, tight enough to not leave any openings, but still allowing free movement inside.

“Remove the rings,” said one of them, a broad-shouldered man no older than thirty years of age. In his hand was a mean-looking axe, which fit his rather medieval appearance.

Valens searched Celme and Nomad’s eyes when he heard the man, and got a nod from the both of them. He removed the ring on his right index finger, which concealed his class and levels from curious eyes. The others did the same.

“It’s been some time since we entertained a group loosely fit such as yours,” the other guard, whose face was half-hidden with a black scarf, commented as he squinted his eyes toward them. “What’s a Nursemaid have to do with a Berserker and a Warrior? And you, Proven, what’s an Arcane Magister supposed to be? Some sort of Mage, you are?”

“I know you’re busy men with a long day ahead of you. Let us get done with our real business.” Nomad moved in with his sword resting calmly on his shoulder, giving the pair of guards a wink. “How much?”

“Depends on the number of days and hours, friend. How long are we talking about here?” the second guard, whose voice had a raspy quality to it, said. “A week here will cost you five Caligian crowns or a D-tier manastone. Each. Double that for a month.”

“We’ll take a month,” Valens said, fishing for his Caligian notes he brought from Belgrave. He had around sixty crowns, the most he could find during that short time, and he would be parting with forty of them without even taking a step into the city. “Here, it’s your payment.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, friends,” the scarfed guard said while his companion took the notes out of Valens’s fingers. “We’ll jot your names down for your permits. In the meantime, Dale here will accompany you to the city to make sure you’re housed well and taken care of.”

Which is to say, he’s going to register the place of our residence for safety reasons. It is surprisingly easy.

But then, unlike the giant Belgrave that had a population of over a million people, the Ashen City had at most a couple of dozen thousand residents. Still not a number to be ignored, but ultimately it represented a far more manageable challenge for those in authority.

After signing their names off in a clumsily kept register that the scarred guard fetched from his tower by the side of the gate, they set off into the city with an innocent-looking Dale at the helm.

A second ring of walls. Clever.

The whole place was built like a fortified circle with three sets of walls dividing the interior. The former guard and now the guide, Dale, kindly explained how things worked here, which both served as an introduction and a warning.

First and foremost of all was that the First Ring, which consisted of the inner circle of the City, belonged to the Ashen Guild and the members of the allied guilds. Certain adventurers with enough credentials were allowed in, but for people like Valens’s group, who weren’t even a part of a Guild, it was a forbidden site.

The Second Ring was the land of opportunities. Business of all kinds was carried out there, but residency was strictly granted through a special permit, which could be obtained by investing in a shop or opening a new business. There were other ways as well, but Dale didn’t go further into details. Temporary visits were allowed, of course, since there was a giant marketplace.

Finally, the Third Ring was where the guests were entertained. Passersby, people who were waiting to use the Riftgates of the Ashen Guild, opportunity-chasers, or unaffiliated adventurers stayed here.

And there was so much noise.

People were out in the streets. Dozens and hundreds of them. Bells rang wildly across. People banged at the strings and danced and chugged one drink after another. There was a merry celebration of sorts with a ring of people holding hands, circling around two guys with lutes. By the side, the waiters of the two pubs were busy handling the mountainous task of keeping this crowd satiated with enough booze.

“I suggest the Crowd House,” Dale said when they stepped through and out from the festival atmosphere into the quieter stretches of the Third Ring. “You’d be close to keep with the rest of the adventurers, but far from the music and screaming that your sleep would not be interrupted. It’s pretty cheap for an inn, too. A man can’t ask for more in this city.”

Valens examined the inn — a three-story inn built solely from wood. It had a simple exterior with mana lamps illuminating the small porch.

“Looks as good a place as any,” Nomad said, shifting backward to peer up at the building. “It’ll do for now.”

……

It took some time for them to settle into the place. Valens would miss his little house by the poor ring of Belgrave as all he got here was a room that he would have to share with Nomad while Celme and Selin would share the one close to it.

Valens poured himself onto his new bed, solid wood barely creaking under his weight. A bath was in the corner of his mind, trying to allure him into motion, but it would have to wait.

“I have finally completed my Trial,” he muttered, turning slowly toward Nomad. “I’m thinking of balancing a couple of my stats. It’s either that or I need to come up with other measures against what we might come across in the future. You think we’re safe here?”

“For now,” Nomad said. “There will be noise. Rumors and news across Haven’s Reach about Belgrave. The Church will try to keep it under control, but thousands have seen you in that square, floating over a Dread and blessing them with a new life. That sort of thing would be hard to forget.”

“There goes the plan for my second clinic,” Valens said, shrugging when Nomad gave him an odd look. “You were the one who told me I’d be a hot commodity here.”

“Val, you’re a Surgemaster,” Nomad said, voice deepening. “The first one to be seen after hundreds of years. People might have forgotten their past, or they were kept from the truth for a long time, but that doesn’t mean that name has lost its weight. It just changed meaning for certain groups, and you’re too weak to face them now.”

“This goes both ways for humans and the minions of the Tainted Father, I suppose?” Valens asked. While he didn’t expect to be lauded by all of Haven’s Reach after that effort, what he truly had been focused on was the response he would get from the dark side of this equation. He never gave much thought to the Church or the other groups in the world.

I have the Midnight Assembly two days from now. Maybe I can ask them a few questions.

“The point is, you should be prepared. We all should,” Nomad said, and there was a certain heaviness in the way he talked as he closed his eyes. “The Trials of the Ancients were never simple, but I don’t think even the long-deceased Surgemasters have faced a piece of the apocalypse as their First Trials. Something is different. The world is changing.”

“So we must change with it,” Valens nodded. “I understand the reasoning, and I’d appreciate some time to go over a few things. After all, I got new slots in my skill repertoire and some new stats as well, but—”

“We need more,” Nomad said. “We’ll rest for a few days. Get to know the city and make ourselves comfortable. The Berserker needs to complete her Trial. Fast. Or she’d be a liability. We can’t have her slow us down in the Dead Lands. We aren’t in Haven’s Reach anymore. A single missed step here would get you turned into one of those beasts.”

What about you? I know you’re keeping some things from me.

Valens shook his head. After all the things they’d gone through, he didn’t have it in him to question Nomad about certain things. He needed some time.

Yes, some time and a good bath to adjust to these new changes.

……