Under the first morning sunlight in a new land, Aerax and Minoros set off from the eastern shore.
The road to Neosis was neither smooth nor pleasant as they had imagined. Narrow forest trails, sand dunes that swallowed their steps, and rocky slopes tested the resolve of the newcomers with every mile.
For three days and three nights, they moved without rest, stopping only in groves by the stream or on dry, elevated patches of ground. At night, Minoros chopped dry branches to build a fire, while Aerax hunted small game for food. They shared pieces of barely-cooked meat, slept in turns, and remained ever watchful. Nothing threatened them more than humans — and yet nothing felt more alien than a land neither had set foot in before.
On the third day, through the light morning mist, the first walls of Neosis appeared. Tall and forged from silvery blue stone, they stood imposing — a testament to the ancient city-state's long-standing presence. Atop the walls, flags fluttered in the wind, bearing the symbol of a chalice etched with radiant beams — an emblem of old myth.
Aerax and Minoros approached the main gate. A line had already formed: merchants, traders, immigrants, and even wanderers. All had to pass through the scrutiny of guards clad in shining iron armor, shields marked with the royal insignia.
When their turn came, they were immediately stopped. A towering guard blocked Aerax's path, eyeing their ragged appearance with suspicion.
"Name? Entry papers?"
Aerax remained silent, his gaze cold. He had no documents. Neither did Minoros. The guard looked them up and down, his eyes pausing at the horn-handled knife on Aerax's belt and the massive axe strapped to Minoros' back.
"Armed strangers. No identity. No entry. Leave now or we'll be forced to remove you."
There was no argument to be made. They retreated from the gate and returned to a patch of open land near the city entrance. That night, they slept beneath a tree, covered themselves with dry straw, and watched the flow of people coming and going.
The next morning, the crowd returned. Among them was a group of southern merchants — their carts packed with straw, coarse cloth, and sacks of dry goods. Aerax watched them for a long while, then turned to Minoros.
"They don't check the goods too thoroughly. If we hide inside a cart…"
Minoros nodded. "We'll need to pick the right moment — when they're busy checking papers."
At dawn, while the light was still dim, they made their move. They chose the last cart in the convoy. Minoros pulled away some straw to create space; Aerax crawled in first, and Minoros followed. They covered themselves again and held their breath.
Hoofbeats clattered, wheels crunched over cobblestone. They heard guards' voices, the merchants' polite responses, and the heavy creak of the gate swinging open. A few footsteps thudded on the cart's surface — but there was no thorough inspection.
Then the sounds changed. The cold wind faded. The air thickened with the scent of people, smoke, and ripe fruit. Neosis.
When the carts finally stopped and the merchants began unloading, Aerax and Minoros waited until no one was nearby, then quickly slipped out and ducked into an alley beside the marketplace.
They were in. Smuggled in like rats — but in. Now, they had to adapt to this place — and prepare for the next step in their path toward godhood.
Neosis was an ancient yet vibrant city-state, where myth and reality intertwined in every cobblestone. Curved streets paved with smooth pebbles wound between towering stone houses with red-tiled roofs. Smoke billowed from narrow windows, and the air buzzed with street vendors' shouts, the sounds of rustic instruments, and the distant ringing of temple bells.
Aerax and Minoros slipped through the busy market. Curious eyes followed them — one, fierce-looking; the other, a massive figure carrying a great axe the likes of which city folk had likely never seen. But the two paid no attention. They needed shelter, cleaner clothes, information — and they needed to understand this world before shaking it.
In a quiet corner of the market, they stopped at a stall selling second-hand goods. Aerax picked out a few simple cloaks, paying with a small gold shard he had hidden in his belt since the crypt. The seller eyed him warily but asked no questions. Minoros threw on a coarse fabric to cover his large frame.
After leaving the market, they headed to an outer district where the poor gathered — a place where questions weren't asked and strange faces didn't draw too much attention. There, they managed to rent a dingy room above a small tavern. The moldy smell, the sound of rats scurrying above the beams, and the arguments below didn't bother them. After three sleepless nights, any roof was a blessing.
Aerax laid his cloak over the uneven wooden floor, lay back with hands behind his head, and stared at the jagged ceiling. Minoros sat by the wall, set his axe aside, and began picking grass from between his toes. They didn't speak for a long while — there was no need. The room was silent. Beyond the window, the moon peeked through the rooftops, its light reflecting off the narrow oil-lit streets below.
Aerax closed his eyes, but his mind spun. He didn't yet know what the next step was — but already, paths were forming in his mind. City-states like Neosis had what he needed: knowledge, power, alliances — and challenges. He wasn't here to hide. He was here to rise. And if the gods were watching from above, perhaps now was when they should start to worry.
Minoros quietly watched Aerax. In the dim light, his companion looked like a calm shadow waiting to ignite. They had no idea what tomorrow would bring. But tonight, they were in. And the first stone of a journey with no return had been laid.