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Chapter 107 - Dreadborne Harbinger
🕑 Added 2025-03-31 03:43:54 +0000 UTCKlarion stood in line with Hatsune at his side, his eyes scanning the towering gate that separated the Imperial Academy from the city of Bastion. The sheer fortifications were a statement in themselves—thick walls reinforced with some sort of black stone, which he assumed to be further supported layered enchantments to enhance their strength still further. From beyond the gate, he could already hear the hum of city life just barely out of sight.
A pair of Sentinels stood before the gate, their stance conveying alertness even as their masks didn’t. It quickly became clear to Klarion that their purpose wasn’t to prevent anyone from leaving through the gate, but simply to issue the same warning to each scion as they passed. Some of the scions passing through the gate stiffened at what was being said to them, but they went through all the same. When it was his turn, Klarion finally heard what that warning was.
“Sentinel jurisdiction does not extend beyond the Academy campus. In Bastion, you are subject to the city’s laws as imposed by their Iron Enforcers, and you should behave accordingly. Your status as a scion of the Empire will shield you from much, but not everything. Enjoy your time away from campus, scion.”
Klarion nodded in acknowledgment of the warning and the well-wishes from the Sentinel. As he moved towards the gate as the other scions and their escorts had done, Hatsune stepped closer beside him, her silver-tipped ears still oriented towards the Sentinel that had given Klarion the warning.
“I think I already know the answer, but will you be sharing your title and House with those we interact with in Bastion on our way to the Savage Wilds?”
“No,” Klarion shook his head, drawing the cloak tighter around him as he did so. Solivair had done an excellent job picking them out for both of them. As fine a quality as it was, the look of it was understated enough that it would allow Klarion to hide his status as a scion somewhat. Even with the bulk of his armor underneath it readily visible, he hoped that wouldn’t be that uncommon with those making their way through Bastion to the Savage Wilds. “If at all possible, I would like to keep my status as a scion concealed until we return. Beyond the possibility there might be enemies of House Blacksword out there, I also want to see the Empire as it really is, not simply through the lens of my position.”
Hatsunedidn’t bother covering for the long sigh of relief she made. “That is wonderful. Hopefully, we will be able to avoid any more attempts at assassination or duels then.”
“You make it sound like those kinds of things happen all the time to me.”
“Klarion,” Hatsune patiently said, coming next to him, “most people I know haven’t had as many attempts on their life in years as you have had in these past few weeks.”
Klarion shook his head, still slowly making his way to the open gate, though he was not able to deny what the Leporine had said, nor did not cover the amused look that came to his face. “Fair enough. I promise I’ll try to keep a low profile.”
Hatsune gave him another sidelong glance, the corner of her lips tugging up slightly. “You? Low profile? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Before he could respond, the pair of scions in front of him moved forward through the gate and it was their turn to go next through the imposing stone archway.
Contrary to what he had been expecting, a view of the city was not the first thing he saw.
Six figures loomed before them as they crossed over into a long enclosed stone passage that stretched to another gate into Bastion from the Imperial Academy. Unlike the Sentinels, who generally exuded a silent, detached presence, what Klarion guessed to be the Iron Enforcers were something else entirely. They were massive—each one standing at least a head taller than Klarion, their forms encased in thick steel armor that looked heavy enough to snap a lesser man’s spine under its weight. Their weapons weren’t elegant blades or enchanted staves. Instead, each guard carried a massive wooden club—thick, solid, and reinforced with bands of iron. The sight of them alone sent a clear message: the Iron Enforcers weren’t in Bastion for their precision. They were there to break anything that disturbed the peace.
Each guard also bore a tower shield, emblazoned with what Klarion could guess was the symbol of Bastion—a massive, stylized fortress, its battlements raised like a challenge to all who would seek to breach its walls.
Hatsune’s keen eyes flickered across the six, her body subtly shifting into a stance that would allow her to pull her sword with less than a moment’s notice. “They don’t look like the type to exchange pleasantries.”
Klarion gave a short nod, and though he didn’t expect trouble, he also reached out to gently take his greatsword from Hatsune. “My guess is you are right about that. They are not someone I want to piss off.” He glanced at the thick clubs again, his lips pressing into a firm line. “Looking at those clubs, I think if someone were to cause trouble here, they wouldn’t ask questions. They’ll just beat you into the ground and throw you into a cell.”
One of the guards stepped forward, his gaze drifting over Hatsune and the way her hand had come to rest on the hilt of her sword before he turned his attention to Klarion. The gray skin of his face, visible through the open-faced helm he wore, alongside the sheer bulk of a half-ogre physique similar to what Rolfun had made the Iron Enforcer an even more intimidating presence than the rest. He grunted, motioning toward the main road ahead.
“Don’t cause trouble,” the half-ogre rumbled simply. “Break Bastion’s laws, and you won’t get a second warning.”
Klarion met the Iron Enforcer’s eyes briefly, giving a curt nod, even though he had only the vaguest ideas of what laws the Iron Enforcer was referring to. They almost certainly centered on those he was already familiar with back in Volkstrum on Earth, however. “Understood.”
The Iron Enforcer then stepped out of the way, motioning for Klarion and Hatsune to step past the rest of the guards and through the second gate. Dismissed, they both did just that, Klarion leading the way.
The moment they stepped beyond the Academy’s gates, Bastion’s true nature unveiled itself before Klarion. Unlike the Imperial Academy, where grand towers and sweeping archways—not to mention all the gaudy ornamentation in so many places—spoke of prestige and scholarly ambition, Bastion was a fortress city built for one purpose alone.
War.
The streets that stretched before them were wide, paved with thick slabs of reinforced stone that looked to have been placed to accommodate marching soldiers, supply convoys, and the occasional mounted patrol. There were no winding alleys or twisting roads so close to the Imperial Academy, like one might find in a different civilian city—everything was laid out in a rigid, militarized grid, designed for efficiency and control. Buildings loomed on either side of them, and not the elegant, gilded apartments and manors of noble houses whose scions attended the Academy. No, these were buildings of reinforced stone, their walls lacking ornamentation and instead lined with iron bands for added durability. Every structure resembled a stronghold, built to withstand siege, sabotage, and time itself.
And looming above it all were the watchtowers.
Though still shorter than the walls surrounding the Imperial Academy, which explained why he hadn’t seen them before entering into Bastion itself, they were strategically placed at regular intervals, ensuring no corner of this part of the city was left unwatched. Even from the gate, Klarion could see the armored forms of other Iron Enforcers within them, their helmets gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
His first impressions were that Bastion was a city of function over form, where every brick and beam served a purpose beyond mere aesthetics. Honestly, that hadn’t been what he had been hoping to find in the city encircling the Imperial Academy. Rather, he had been hoping for something closer to what a city would be like elsewhere in the Empire. Though perhaps the ways things seemed to be here so close to the gate was not the case everywhere. Maybe it was different in other parts of Bastion.
Not wanting to linger, and even less wanting to attract attention, Klarion led Hatsune down the street, deeper into the city. At first, the stark, disciplined nature of Bastion seemed all-encompassing. The roads were too straight, the buildings too uniform, and the ever-present patrols of Iron Enforcers only reinforced the sense that this place was more fortress than city.
Yet, thankfully—and as he had hoped— as he and Hatsune moved deeper into the city, the rigid military atmosphere gradually began to fade. It began to shift when they came to an area that was thick with heat and industry. A number of armories and forges replaced the regimented stone buildings, the scent of smelting iron mixed with the ever-present tang of oil and sweat. The clang of hammers striking metal reverberated through the street, punctuated by the hiss of quenched steel and the low murmur of trades being brokered.
Mentally making a note that this might be an area to look into later when he and Hatsune moved forward with forging new weapons, he nonetheless kept moving forward, not willing to get distracted. They still had a bit to do in terms of purchasing supplies, and a ways to go to get outside the city, before they could be done for the rest of the day.
Gradually the streets became less rigidly structured, winding ever so slightly in ways that suggested organic development rather than the strict design closer to the Academy. The buildings, once stark and uniform near the gate, began to take on more character. Some were older, their facades bearing signs of age and history. Others had balconies or painted shutters, small personal touches that spoke of actual residents rather than just the constant presence of soldiers focused on defense.
Even the air itself began to feel different, at least once they were past the armories and forges nearer the city center. The scent of metal and oil that had lingered near the outer defenses was gradually replaced by the more familiar smells of a true city—baking bread, roasting meat, the faint spice of incense wafting from a small corner shop of some sort. The clanging of hammers faded next, giving way to the more chaotic but lively sounds of daily life—street vendors hawking their wares, children laughing as they darted between pedestrians, the strumming of an honest-to-god lute from a small open-air tavern.
As the latest song faded away to quiet applause, Klarion took a moment to remind himself that this wasn’t some incredibly realistic game he was playing around in but instead an incredibly real—and incredibly deadly—life that was now his own. Despite that reminder, he could still feel himself relax somewhat.
This had been exactly what he had been hoping to find after leaving the campus. Unknowingly, Klarion slowed his pace down the street as it became more crowded, so much so that Hatsune looked worried for a moment, until he indicated he was alright, just taking in everything. She nodded, slowing her stride as well, but stepped in closer. There if he needed her, which he appreciated.
Ignoring the people around him, he took in the small shops lined the streets, some selling practical wares—tools and clothing mostly—while others were more indulgent. A confectioner’s stand displayed candied nuts and sugar-dusted pastries, and an elderly woman sold colorful silk ribbons from a makeshift stall. He even spotted a bookshop, its sign swinging gently in the breeze, promising histories, fables, and arcane tomes. God what he wouldn’t give to spend some time in a bookstore again. He almost stepped in that direction before again getting a grip on himself.
No, he couldn’t browse right now.
He could look later once he attained the Essences he needed, unlocked his class, and slaughtered that bastard Chadwick.
Setting visions of books aside, Klarion turned his attention back to the crowd around him, picking up his pace slightly as he did so. The crowd around Klarion and Hatsune seemed to pulse with life, a mixture of individuals from all walks of life, and none so more than the children. After seeing none for weeks in the Imperial Academy, the kids darting in and out of the spaces between adults were some of the first people he noticed. Some of the younger ones —an elven cast to their features— still had a hesitant look about them, clutching the hands of older family members as they navigated the busy streets, eyes wide at the colorful market stalls and the smells of fresh bread and sizzling meats. He also saw a small group that looked to have orcish blood go scurrying past, their hands full of sweet pastries, laughing as they competed to see who could run the fastest. The air was filled with their joy, a contrast to the more serious expressions of the adults around them.
Not far from that group of children, Klarion noticed a human woman haggling with a vendor over the price of a bundle of herbs. Her face was weathered, the lines around her eyes and mouth speaking of years of hard work and hard living. She was older than most of the crowd, her back slightly bent with age, but she still held herself with quiet dignity.
As they continued down the street, the diverse array of people continued to expand. A good majority of them were of races that he expected, given the scions he had seen in the Academy, but by no means did he recognize every race of people around him. A group of people that looked like a cross between velociraptors and bears was one such, but before he could get a closer look at them, they had already swept past in another direction.
Klarion’s gaze then landed on what could only be a group of legionnaires. They wore armor that would not have looked out of place in ancient Rome, but rather than tense, their postures were relaxed as they stood outside a different tavern from where the music had come from before. Their laughter rang out loud, filled with camaraderie and good-natured ribbing.
Klarion continued to move forward, his senses alive to every shift and movement in the crowd. Hatsune remained close, her body language alert as she surveyed the people around them. Her posture remained loose but coiled, ready for action at a moment’s notice. He almost made a comment about her needing to relax, but he held his tongue, thinking over how many people in the city might not have the best opinions of House Blacksword, or scions generally. And, as if to reinforce the thought, he began to notice there were other scions in this part of the city.
Even among the crowded street, scions commanded attention. Wherever they walked, space formed around them, a subtle but unmistakable widening of the streets as everyone moved aside, avoiding unwanted entanglements. Some of the scions that he saw seemed to revel in it, moving with their bodyguards in formation, making no effort to conceal their aristocratic presence. In fact, a few in his line of sight seemed to outright flaunt it.
“This is why I wanted to blend in,” Klarion said, motioning to a group of scions farther down the street. “Unlike those like them.”
Hatsune followed his gaze toward a cluster of scions further up the street. Unlike Klarion, they had made no effort to hide their status—fine armor with the marks of their Houses prominently displayed, flowing capes that seemed to drift everywhere they walked, and all the while armed bodyguards trailed behind them like not-so-inconspicuous shadows. They moved with the easy confidence of those who expected the world to move aside for them. And for the most part, it did.
Yet Klarion also caught something else, and based on Hatsune’s expression, she had caught it too. The subtle resentment in the glances cast at the walking scions, the way grizzled veterans tightened their grips on their weapons, the way shopkeepers adjusted their pricing boards the moment the nobles passed. All that said the scions—and those like them— were given respect, yes, but it was the kind that came from fear rather than admiration.
Hatsune snorted softly as one of them pulled out several gold coins and began to juggle them for the amusement of his friends. “They might as well be shouting to the world, ‘Rob me.’”
Klarion chuckled, nodding in agreement before catching sight of a different group on the other side of the street from them.
“Apparently,” Klarion began, nudging Hatsune to look in the direction he indicated with his eyes, “not all of them are like that.”
At an open-air bar opposite the preening scions, seated among laborers and legionnaires, was another scion dressed in simple leathers adorned with the mark of his House, laughing over a drink. His hair was unruly, his posture relaxed, and he spoke easily with those around him. Unlike the others, he wasn’t being avoided—he was being welcomed.
Hatsune raised an eyebrow. “Guess some of them have the sense to adapt.”
Klarion nodded slightly. “Or maybe he was raised differently.”
Leaving the other scions behind, Klarion and Hatsune ventured deeper into the city. Unfortunately, it was that much longer until Klarion was reminded of one of the other things cities —no matter where they were in the Multiverse it seemed — were known for.
At first, the stares were innocuous. The kind of casual curiosity anyone might expect when walking down the streets of such as massive city like Bastion.
But Klarion had spent too many years living in Volkstrum, reading the way people moved, how they watched, and more importantly—why. Most gazes that landed on them only looked on with passing interest, scanning their faces before moving on, nothing more than bystanders registering an unfamiliar presence. And, to be fair, Klarion knew that in his armor and carrying his greatsword, he represented a potential threat to many. But those weren’t the looks that had him subtly glancing around.
It was the looks that lingered a little too long. No, not in admiration, though he occasionally got those to Hatsune’s frustration. No, it was the looks of calculated assessment.
After the first few years working in Volksturm back on Earth, he had learned the difference between a glance and a predator’s gaze, between a person curious as to where someone was going and a criminal sizing up their mark
And right now, he and Hatsune were being sized up.
Klarion let his steps remain measured and even, showing no outward reaction, but he made sure to let Hatsune know that someone—or several someones—was watching them.
He worked to track the figures in the periphery of his vision. There were those whose movements spoke of training—mercenaries or former legionnaires, their postures too disciplined to be common thieves. The ones that had seen battle carried themselves with a subtle weight, a presence honed through conflict and survival. He discarded those few outright, knowing they were not likely those watching them.
He focused harder, seeking the ones whose steps made no sound even on the heavy stone streets. Seeking the ones whose hands never strayed too far from their belts or sleeves, where hidden daggers and poisons might rest.
There.
Hatsune had noticed them too. Though to anyone else, she appeared completely at ease, Klarion could see the minute shifts in her posture. Where before at the gate she had been obviously on guard, her movements now had become subtly more fluid, yet her weight remained balanced for immediate action, her long, silver-tipped ears directed slightly in the direction of the same figures Klarion had noticed.
“They’re watching us,” she murmured, her voice barely above a breath as she pointed at a nearby food stall to cover for it.
Klarion nodded in acknowledgment, playing it off like he had been agreeing with her about whatever she might have otherwise said about the stall.
The first one, a wiry man with a scar bisecting his left brow, leaned against a building as if merely resting, but his fingers tapped against his leg in an unconscious rhythm—signaling.
The second was a broad-shouldered woman with short-cropped hair, wearing the kind of patched leather armor that suggested she was either a poor mercenary or otherwise worked outside the law. She had a blade strapped to her thigh, positioned for quick access, and the way she kept her distance yet never left their line of sight was telling. When she shifted in response to the tapping of the first man, Klarion knew she was no down-on-her-luck mercenary.
And the third…
It took him a few moments longer to find them. A youthful figure, wrapped in a hooded cloak, who walked through the crowd with a fluid, effortless grace—as if he belonged to it but never truly touched it. His gaze was not the brash, obvious stare of a thug looking for a fight.
It was the gaze of someone who watched people for a living.
Klarion let out a slow, measured breath.
This wasn’t just casual curiosity. These people were watching them specifically.
Why?
No. It didn’t matter why.
Klarion set aside his first instinct to puzzle their attention out—to weigh possibilities, to wonder if this was an unrelated coincidence, if he had been noticed for who he was, or if they were merely targeting them as a new facea in Bastion. But in the end, none of that truly mattered. What mattered was that they were watching them. What mattered was that they had been following him and Hatsune through the streets, their movements too practiced, too purposeful to be anything but intentional.
They were threats.
And threats needed to be dealt with.
He didn’t share his thoughts with Hatsune aloud. He didn’t need to. A brief glance in her direction was enough. Her green eyes flicked to him for half a heartbeat before returning to scanning the street. She understood.
Now they needed to lose them.
Klarion shifted his pace slightly, just enough to look natural, but also enough to give the illusion that they weren’t yet aware of their pursuers. He let his gaze wander toward a busy row of market stalls, noting the shifting tide of foot traffic. Vendors called out their wares, coins clinked as buyers haggled, and the scent of roasted meat filled the air.
He caught sight of a narrow alley between two shops, the shadowed space offering a potential route out of sight. He memorized its location even as he kept walking. A few more steps, a little more distance… Then they would vanish before their pursuers even realized they were gone.
A patrolling group of Iron Enforcers passed in the street behind them, briefly cutting them off from the view of the three following them.
“Now.”
When the figure in the hooded cloak stood where the Iron Enforcers had been walking moments later, neither Klarion nor Hatsune was anywhere within sight.
