CHAPTER 63 – THE TRANSIT CITY
When the effects of the teleportation circle faded, the first thing that arrived was sound.
Metal, stone, and human voices blended together. Shouting merchants, guards barking orders, the irritable grunts of animals… After the Academy's disciplined quiet, the chaos felt foreign. Uncomfortable—but familiar. The world was like this.
Seryn took a step forward.
The ground was different from the Academy's smooth stone. Worn, cracked in places, repaired over and over. Everything here had been used. The city was built for passing through, not for staying.
The caravan was guided out of the circle area in a controlled manner. Everyone knew their direction. Goods to warehouses, travelers to inns, guards to reports. No one lingered.
Seryn didn't linger either.
He headed toward the city's covered main avenue. It was wide, but not spacious. Buildings rose high, gaps were narrow. There were many shadows. Light filtered down from above and shattered below. People moved quickly. No one wanted to bump into anyone—but no one yielded the way either.
He walked for a while. He didn't look at shop windows. The goods for sale didn't interest him. Weapons, talismans, maps… all average. Real value was never displayed openly.
The looks, however, didn't leave him.
He stopped at a corner and leaned his back against the wall, watching the flow of the crowd.
The grey flow was silent.
This city wasn't warning him. But that didn't mean it was safe. Some places liked silence.
He saw a unit of guards pass by. Four of them. Their armor was plain but well maintained. Their weapons weren't decorative. Their gazes were sharp. They were heading toward the circle district.
Security's tight, he noted.
He continued on. Turned into the inn district. Most caravan travelers were here. Buildings made for short stays—clean, but soulless. Signs hung on their doors: how many days you could stay, which circle line was nearby, which guard unit protected the area.
He entered an inn. It wasn't crowded. Most tables were empty. The man behind the counter looked up.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"How many days?"
"One."
The man nodded. Didn't ask questions. Took the money. Handed over a key.
"Room's upstairs. If it gets noisy… get used to it."
Seryn took the key and went up the stairs. The room was small. A bed, a table, a window. That was it.
He opened the window. It faced the back of the city. Narrow alleys, laundry lines, back doors. A more honest view.
He stood there for a while.
He locked the door. Didn't take off his jacket. Leaned his sword against the wall. Didn't sit. Just waited.
After some time, sounds rose from below. The inn door opened. Someone entered. Conversations were brief. Footsteps were heavy. Not guards. Not merchants either.
The grey flow remained silent.
Toward evening, he went back out. The city was darkening, but movement hadn't slowed. Lights were lit. The area around the circle grew even more crowded.
Seryn headed that way.
The teleportation circle stood at the center of a wide courtyard, surrounded by barriers. Entry required authorization. Routes were clearly defined. City to city. Long distances were taken in segments. Every transfer demanded a price.
A clerk was speaking loudly:
"Eastern route full! Northern route tomorrow morning! Western route limited!"
Seryn stood behind the barrier and looked at the circle.
The light was stable. Controlled. Still… a transfer was always a risk. Especially more than one.
Daskal lands, he thought. Not yet.
He sensed movement behind him.
He didn't turn.
Someone's steps approached and stopped beside him, keeping distance.
"From the Academy?" a voice asked.
Seryn didn't take his eyes off the circle. "Yes."
"Hard period," the man said. "There are rumors."
"There always are."
The man chuckled softly. "True. But some rumors… are expensive."
Seryn turned. The man looked ordinary. Middle-aged. Neither thin nor large. His eyes were attentive.
"What do you want?" Seryn asked.
"Nothing," the man said. "Just talking."
"You chose the wrong person."
The man shrugged. "Maybe. But the name Daskal draws curiosity."
Seryn's gaze didn't harden. It didn't rise either.
"In this city," he said, "curiosity doesn't last long."
The man hesitated for a moment. Then stepped back. His smile faded.
"Be careful," he said. "Transit cities wear people down."
Seryn didn't answer.
The man melted into the crowd.
Seryn moved away from the circle and slipped into the streets. He deliberately wandered. Didn't take shortcuts. If there was a tail, he wanted it to surface.
After a while, he was sure.
There was no one.
He returned to the inn and closed the door. This time, he sat. At the table.
The envelope was still in his bag. He didn't take it out. Not yet.
He lay back on the bed. Didn't close his eyes. Watched the ceiling.
Something in this city had weighed him. It hadn't touched him yet. But it had noticed him.
The road is stretching, he thought. And that's good.
In the morning, the teleportation routes would change.
The next transfer was waiting.
And the Daskal lands… were still a few steps away.