As the wagon took them through the streets of the inner city, Keane asked a question that popped into his mind, after all, he hadn't had to move to a different country before, so he was unsure how it worked.
"You said I needed papers," Keane said.
Elara nodded. "Here, everything is documented."
"What does it entail? What exactly do I get?" Keane asked.
"You'll be listed as an independent resident, with merchant-class privileges. It will give you access to most of the city, except places like the Palace, the garrisons and the wizard's quarters. Well, if you are invited, that is a different case."
"I see…"
The wagon soon rolled to a stop before a three-story building, more fortress than office, with guards at the front and a sigil above the door. The city's bureaucracy, he assumed, or whatever passed for it in this world. The governing system was surprisingly modernized.
As they disembarked, Keane caught the stares of several passersby. His appearance which was tall, lean, clothes clean but unfashionable—marked him as foreign even in a city that prided itself on trade. Once again, Sylvi remained in the wagon while they left.
Inside the building, the air was cooler, the halls lined with murals of the city's history, from its founding to what looked like recent wars. A row of desks, each manned by a scribe or minor functionary, stretched down the corridor, with a few armed guards standing at key junctions.
Elara led the way to a counter staffed by a clerk in a gold-trimmed vest. He looked up, saw her, and straightened with the speed of a man who'd just spotted his auditor.
"Lady Vane," he said, bowing his head. "How may I serve?"
"I require a residency permit for my companion," Elara said. "Expedited."
The clerk's eyes darted to Keane, noting his oddity and uniqueness, then back to Elara. "Of course, my lady."
He scribbled a note, then gestured for Keane to approach.
"Name?" the clerk asked, quill poised.
"Keane," he said, "no surname."
The quill hovered. "Place of birth?"
"Far west," Keane said, then glanced at Elara, who nodded minutely. "A village that no longer exists."
The clerk didn't blink, just wrote it down and moved on. "Age?"
"Twenty."
The man squinted, then wrote it, glancing up to compare Keane's face to the number. "Occupation?"
Keane considered. "Independent contractor."
Elara cut in. "He is a security consultant. I have vouched for his character and abilities."
The clerk hesitated, then wrote it down anyway.
"Affinity?"
"Yet to be determined by the Eastern Mage Tower." Keane said. He would normally wish to keep it a secret, but then again, there was no particular need.
The clerk seemed unsure at first, but he went ahead to fill something in that explained that. "We will confirm that." He said.
That seemed to settle it.
The clerk filled the rest of the page, then turned it around for Keane to sign. He was made to dip his finger into a red vicious liquid and press on the paper. He wasn't sure how that worked exactly, but with magic, he didn't need to think much of it.
The clerk handed the page to a passing runner, who vanished through a door shortly after. Then he turned back, all professional courtesy.
"The process is usually longer, my lady, but I will see to it personally," he said. "Please, wait in the lobby. If you require refreshments, ask any attendant."
Elara nodded, and then they moved to a row of benches along the wall.
They waited for nearly half an hour.
Finally, the runner returned and beckoned Elara forward. "The Director will see you now."
Elara stood, smoothing her skirt, then motioned for Keane to follow.
The office of the Director was like a study in disguise; with dark wood shelves, a desk the size of a full bed, and windows that looked out on the city's inner ring. Behind the desk sat a man who radiated authority, hair silver at the temples with eyes like polished granite. Clearly, he was not a mage.
"Lady Vane," he said, rising with a forced smile. "And this is the guest?"
"Keane," Elara said. "He requires documentation, per the city's laws."
The Director glanced at Keane, then motioned for him to sit. "Most who come here lack the proper introduction," he said. "You are fortunate to have such a patron."
Keane gave a noncommittal shrug. "I try to make friends wherever I go."
The Director's smile vanished. "You have no family, no history, and yet your mana signature is… unique." He said. Somehow, they had gotten that piece of information in such short notice.
He tapped a file on his desk, then looked up. "In other cities, this would be cause for concern."
"In this city?" Keane asked.