It only took a few minutes for the group to gain entry into the city of Albalon, and with gaining their entry they lost their breaths. The Heartland natives were always told about the majestic cities that were scattered across the fallen dimensions, from ornate castles to megapolises that scattered across massive plains to massive pantheons carved into mountain faces. Yet, none of them were prepared for what they saw behind the immense white walls of Albalon.
The perfectly white stone flowed around the inner walls like a whirlpool, drawing their attention to the vibrant colored towers that rose from the eye of the storm of white. Every building was composed of the pale white stone; slabs of the stone formed roofs, walls, sidewalks, roads, bridges, chapels, and plazas. Pitch black mortar seeped into the seams of masonry, like an infestation. Everything else from shutters to fences were made from ebony stained wood that contrasted the glistening stone. Houses were all shaped uniquely, largely dependent on the natural formation of the slabs that composed the larger load bearing walls, whilst the cut stone would help the buildings fit into their surroundings in an orderly manner.
Side streets shot out from the main roads like veins, eventually dispersing into cul de sacs like capillaries. Small shops lined the side streets, whereas larger businesses and warehouses composed the storefront of the main roads.
Even though the white stone didn't show any sign of natural weathering, the white cobbled streets were covered in dirt tracks that stuck out like a sore thumb. Store owners would often emerge from their front doors to sweep away the dirt and grime that plagued their sidewalks, not wanting to make a bad impression to the people of Albalon.
The group could also see the seven colored towers that rose above the city like a rainbow emerging over the clouds. The seven towers were actually seven spires, one for each of the major risen gods, laid out in a hexagonal pattern with a single white spire rising above the others in the center. The spires were all connected by majestical carved bridges that gave them the appearance of a gem-studded crown resting on the city.
The citizens roamed about, some rushing with carts full of goods, others marched decisively around their predetermined routes, and the rest walked peacefully with their families as they went about their business casually. Most of the lower citizens wore simple leather and cloth clothing that had simple patterns and a lack of vibrant colors, where many of the wealthier families and individuals wore vibrant satin and silk garments in the colors of their patron belief.
The middle working class however often wore their occupational wardrobe, adorned with sashes, scarves, or ribbons in the color of their patron belief, with the type of accessory dependent on their typical line of work. Guards tended to wear the colors of white or gold, Sailors and fishermen often wore the color blue, Clerks were often seen wearing orange, Military officials were clad in various shades of red, Doctors and Healers dressed in gowns or ribbons of yellow, Smiths and Artisans covered in silver pieces of their own design, and the few wealthy farm owners or tenured farm hands in green.
"Um, Valen. Is your group okay? Are they sick or something?" Atlan asked in a hushed tone as he scanned the shocked expressions of the refugee group. Valen was the only individual who still had his straight face expression despite the overwhelming presence of the city he felt. He was puzzled by Atlan's question until he turned around to see various degrees of awe amongst his group, with Cairo basically waving in the wind while his mind escaped his body, whereas Fleur's expression was a cause for concern. Her face was twisted in pain as her ruby red eyes were growing dimmer by the second, making her irises look more like rust than gems.
"Uh, Fleur, are you feeling okay?" Valen's question broke the rest of the group's trance, drawing their eyes to Fleur's concerning state.
"Not exactly. This place makes my skin feel like it's burning, sapping all my strength…"
Akkod and Cairo were about to ask for more clarification when Larion suddenly interjected. "Is it unbearable? Or is it manageable?"
"Manageable. I just won't be of much use in any confrontations." Fleur spoke slowly, every word spoke with significant effort.
"Then we will have to keep moving forward. Once we have found a place to start investigating from, then we can discuss this matter in depth." Larion decided aloud, putting an end to the conversation and trapping the questions in the other's mouths.
'Interesting. Is the City rejecting her? It doesn't feel the same as the presence in the forest. I doubt the City itself is alive…'
"It seems we are all fine." Valen responded to Atlan, receiving a cautious nod in reply. "Say, what is this white stone called? I've never seen anything like it."
"It's a type of petrified marble that can only be mined from the Blanc Mountains. We call it Blancite, it is a gift from the god of man given to the people of Marrinon after the fall of the primordials to help us fight against the rogue supernatural powers." Atlan placed his closed fist over his heart in a salute. "They say that during the Fall, The God of White's anger turned the Blanc Mountains into a volcano and he mixed his own blood into it in order to make his Blancite Blade, The Werabrecan."
"Do you believe this…story?" Valen was getting rather annoyed with all the myths and tales. He would have much preferred well documented history with multiple eye witnesses, only having access to hearsay or propaganda would only be detrimental to his plan.
'I really hope that someone in this world decided to actually document the events of the fall, instead of just listening to whatever the new gods fed them…'
"Of course I do! If it isn't true, then how could this city come to be?" Atlan looked back and forth between Valen and the blancite buildings they were now walking past. "I do not know what corner of Marrinon you are from, but surely you have read about the Night of Terrors. As far as I know, without the Werabrecan, humanity would have gone extinct and the God of White would have lost his strength."
"True. I still have trouble believing all the stories left by our ancestors nonetheless." Valen lied with a straight face. "My people did not worship the Risen Gods, so this is my first time hearing about the Werabrecan. I thought that we survived the Night of Terrors because our people isolated ourselves from the other lands."
"They say that few civilizations managed to escape a gruesome fate due to the First Witch who taught her privileged people witchery to hide with various means." Atlan spoke while stroking his facial stubble. "I must say it is my first time meeting any of the lost peoples."
"Actually, I recommend not mentioning this to many people." Atlan's expression soured as he began speaking in a hushed voice. "Many of the Followers or White do not like the lost peoples. They have been taught to be very prejudiced to the Followers of Violet. Most will not even speak to you if you openly represent the Goddess, that is why you do not see any of her followers walking about."
Valen scanned the colors he saw amongst the colorful garments and accessories, noticing a significant lack of Violet. "I see, but we aren't Followers of Violet, right?"
"You aren't?" Atlan looked back at Valen over his shoulder with furrowed brows.
"I thought that your people called us 'Lost Peoples', not Followers of Violet." Valen responded, doing a poor job at hiding his own bout of confusion.
"Most of the lost peoples declare themselves as apprentices of the First Witch, and seeing as the First Witch became the Goddess of Violet, most of the migrating lost people claim to be Followers of Violet upon their migration." Atlan explained after realizing the disconnect, "It is only after meeting the harsh prejudice from the Followers of White that they either convert to other worships or hide their beliefs all together."
"I see. Is religious turmoil common in Albalon?"
"It is more than common." Errin sighed, interrupting the other two's conversation. "It is so common that most communities are highly regulated to prevent clashing ideologies from breaking out into massive brawls."
Atlan nodded even whilst giving Errin a harsh side-eye for cutting him off. "Thankfully for you folk, I was never raised in a strict religious household, so my belief in the God of White is rather surface-level. Errin also being a Follower of Silver is good for your group. The Silver-folk have never been a very discriminatory bunch, they value skill and creativity above all else. They would be eager to get their hands on skilled individuals regardless of your belief."
"Good to know."
The rest of the group followed the three during their long conversation, their eyes darting around in either awe or paranoia. None of them could understand the conversation being held, but none of them decided to speak up about their desire for translation. While Cairo's eyes were wide in admiration for the City of White, Illua mumbled words that Valen spoke in the otherworld tongue, hoping to gain a recognition of key vocabulary words. Akkod walked nonchalantly, and his eyes fluttered about as if he was already bored with the bustling city. Fleur was marching forward as stiff as a board, while Larion's unsettled gaze constantly checked to see if Fleur was still in pain.
It was roughly fifteen minutes later when the group finally arrived at their destination, a multi-floored building that was crammed between a bunch of identical looking buildings that lined the sidewalks of one of the more busy main streets. A sign hung from the window adjacent to the front door that read: "Albalon City Registry & Citizenship Services".
Once the group shuffled through the ebony stained wood door, they were met by an empty lobby with a single clerk sitting at a reception desk. Unlike all the exterior stained wood, the waiting room's floor was covered in a soft red oak, with walnut furniture contrasting the light wood flooring. Maroon dyed Velvet upholstery lined the blancite block walls, an intricate hand woven rug separated the furniture like an ocean separating the continents. Silver lamp wells lined the walls, the soft lighting contrasting the beams of sun light that barely crept through the front windows.
Atlan and Errin greeted the receptionist and began to fill out the paperwork with Valen's assistance. Once the clerk scurried off through the door leading to the back of the offices with Atlan in tow, leaving Errin waiting by the desk, Valen rejoined the rest of the pathfinders and recounted the information he learned from his earlier conversations.
"Hmm. These Risen-Gods seem suspicious to me." Akkod stated while lounging on the velvet sofa, with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. "Original Gods just randomly fall, and then they are magically replaced by a group with the help of an extremely powerful witch? Yeah right. I bet my right hand that it's all one big conspiracy."
"It's easy to assume such things in hindsight! We know that this is a fallen world, but the people don't." Cairo snarled, "To these people, they are saviours. How are they supposed to know any different?"
"They aren't." Akkod looked at Cairo with a raised brow, confused as to the reason for the sudden anger. "My point was that there is likely to be a conflict that we must resolve that stems from this conspiracy, that's all."
After a minute of awkward silence, Illua spoke up. "I think it's safe to assume Akkod is right. However, it would make more sense for this conflict to have multiple layers. As Valen mentioned earlier, religious conflicts are a dime a dozen here, but there must be a reason for it."
"Especially if this 'First Witch' or 'Goddess of Violet' is so controversial" Fleur added, "It doesn't make sense for their ostracization, especially if they are responsible for saving several remote civilizations."
"Could they have had an alternative motive?" Larion grumbled, "I highly doubt that some witch saved people just to do good."
"Yeah, but who doesn't have alternative motives? Especially Deities." Valen posed the question while replaying the conversations he had earlier that day in his head. "The people of Albalon worship the God of White because of his gift of Blancite, which gave them the means to fight back against the dangerous supernaturals. But according to their stories, the God of White's reason was to create a weapon, one capable of eradicating supernatural foes."
"It would seem we don't know enough." Illua shook her head, "We are dealing with a heavily indoctrinated population who know myths better than their history. We have to take everything with a grain of salt, even if the points are correct, there is no saying that the order wasn't manipulated."
Illua's warning garnered a solemn nod from the two 'ex-path takers' and Valen, while Cairo and Akkod confusion was painted across their faces.
"She means that even if certain things they know of are true, they could be recounted in the wrong order to misrepresent the truth." Larion scoffed, "It's a common method of deception in politics."
"Then how are we supposed to figure out what is relevant to our path if we can't even tell the truth from the myths?" Cairo pondered aloud.
"We don't." Valen answered, "We collect preliminary information, then we investigate current events and rumors to find a lead. Only then can we extrapolate a motive based on our knowledge. That is assuming that any of this is even related, after all we already dealt with a monster attack. Who is to say that any of our paths have anything to do with a deity-level conspiracy? We have just started our paths, jumping to conclusions will only cloud our judgement."
The room nodded solemnly, hoping that Valen's words weren't just hopeful optimism. The room full of awkward glances and hesitation was only dispelled when Atlan returned to the lobby, holding several folders and a cloth bag.
"Congratulations, Valen. You and your group are officially 'Probationary Citizens' due to the Supernatural Disaster Refugee act." Atlan fished a small bronze badge out of the cloth bag, the bronze badge had seven colored stripes as a sign of the Risen-Gods but was rather simple otherwise. "There are some temporary apartments available, but I took the liberty of getting your group a special spot thanks to Captain Rallo. Pass these around and we will head there so you guys can settle in."