Prologue

Jacob was sitting on the edge of the bridge, looking down at the jungle under it, and at the other side of the bridge, barely visible in the distance over the clouds. In a clear day, he would have been able to also see the mountains behind it.

For a young kid his age, the bridge was still a very impressive thing, most of the adults were used to it and paid very little attention to the incredible construction, only kids and travellers were left to marvel at it.

Those mountains were hard to travel through, their roads treacherous and harsh, made worse by the high altitude and frequent snow, not to mention the bandits and monsters that hid in every crevasse.

And yet, many tried it anyway: on one side of the mountains was to a vast, populated and rich continent, and on the other side the open ocean.

The passages through the mountains were by far the fastest way for any merchant, and of those passages, the Ring Road was the best. Long, wide and relatively safe, the road was filled with forts, hostels and small villages, until it reached its final stretch: right before the ocean, the road went through a large valley covered in thick woods. In this valley was an enormous bridge, connecting the mountains surrounding it and allowing travellers to pass over the jungle safely and rapidly.

The bridge was old, older than anyone could remember and nobody knew for sure who or how it had been built. Nobody could have built anything like it in modern times, and many legends surrounded its origins.

The only thing everybody knew was that the bridge was extremely convenient, leading directly to a large harbour, and thousands of merchants, caravans, travellers and pilgrims went through the Bridge, making it one of the most densely populated and rich cities in the continent.

But the most peculiar thing about the bridge was its shape: instead of being simply straight, from end to end as bridges usually do, it split in the middle forming a very large and wide ring, wide enough to accommodate an entire city, large enough for all the travellers and merchants.

The road behind Jacob was filled with carts and stands, dozens of people shouting, noises and smells. In a regular city, that would have looked like a market day, but every day was market day on the Bridge. Merchants made up the majority of its population and trading was the way of life there. Jacob didn’t really like the confusion and preferred to spend his time looking over the bridge edge, dreaming.

The kid got up and started walking, balancing on the edge of the bridge. It was a big stone wall, large enough for two people to walk on top of it side by side. From behind him, one of the adults in the market yelled at him, telling him to stop, but Jacob didn’t listen. Kids often played around the bridge edges, but for some reason accidents were rare. People living on the bridge seemed to have a natural gift for rarely falling down.

Falling down the bridge had always seemed like a strange idea, to Jacob. He looked over the edge, but couldn’t see anything because of the clouds.

Often, clouds would form under or around the bridge, covering the view and hiding the rest of the world to it as if it was fog. The bridge was many hundred meters tall. Hundreds of meters from the jungle below. Jacob was trying to imagine what a fall like that would feel like when Roger arrived.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. The marketplace wasn’t very pleasant, with the smell of animals and foods mixing with the thick crowd bodily odours, but Roger worked at his father tannery and his stench was a notch above the rest.

Roger sat down and handed Jacob a bowl of stew. The broth was thick and steamy. Impossible to say what or how many animals the meat floating in it was from.

“Isn’t this Old Jeva stew? You went all the way there?”

“No, she’s giving it away nearby, today. Sometimes she moves her kitchen.”

“Nice.”

The two kids remained in silence for a while, slowly eating Old Jeva stew. Roger was the first to broke the silence.

“You wanna go down there, Jac?”

“Mmh?”

“The jungle. You were looking at it. Could be neat to explore. You know, the ruins and all”

“There are no ruins, everybody knows that.”

“No, no, that’s what the adults say but ain’t true.” Roger pointed his spoon at Jacob “Is a secret, ’cause people are scared.”

“Bullshit, ain’t anything interesting in there. Where do you hear that?”

“Eh, around. But if not that, what’s you want to do?”

Jacob looked up, towards the clear sky.

“I wanna go up there.”

Roger paused for a few seconds.

“A bird?”

“No dumbass, the city that’s in the sky.”

“Oh yeah, I know that.”

“You don’t, dumbass, don’t lie to me. You just know the crap my sister talks about.” Roger punched him in the shoulder.

“There is like, a whole city up there, but you can see it only sometimes, it’s reflected in the sky, upside down, with magic.”

“Oh, that. I’ve heard it’s not really in the sky, it’s just a… a mirage, it’s called. The city is actually a dream.”

“Is it? That’s weird. Maybe” Jacob maybe had heard something similar, but he wasn’t gonna admit he was wrong.

Roger looked up, barely able to keep his eyes open, then looked back down at the jungle.

“That’s a hell of a fall. Don’t like it. The jungle is more safe.”

“But it’s like a city in the clouds, man. Don’t you wanna see it?”

Roger shrugged. “You’ll just be a guard like your pa’”

“Fuck that.”

Before he could add anything, something snatched the bowl from his hand, then dumped it on his head.

Jacob felt the hot, greasy soup on his head, flowing down his neck and in his clothes, accompanied by shrill laughter.

A few meters above the two kids, flying in circles, were two birdmen.

They resembled birds with a humanoid shape, their bodies were covered in feathers, their heads had beaks and their legs three clawed fingers, just like a bird.

Jacob and Roger knew the two birdmen in question: Kili and Savi, young brothers from a family of crooks, they often bullied other kids their age, throwing rocks, stealing things, sometimes they would even grab smaller creatures and drag them in the sky. It was a miracle they hadn’t killed anybody yet, always thought Jacob.

“Fuck off, chickens” yelled Roger.

“Oh, the kid is angry? Go back to your stinkhole of a nest.” Replied Kili.

The two were still young and hard to tell apart, they both had white-yellowish feathers that would change colour with time, Kili was just slightly larger with a longer beak.

“Why don’t you get down here, or are you too chicken for a real fight?”

“You got a problem, stinker? You trying to kill the whole Bridge? Maybe we should tell the priests you’ve got the plague.” Replied Savi, the younger of the two. They were still juveniles, their voices shrill and their bodies weak, but the ability to fly more than made up for it.

“Was the plague that reduced your face that way, Savi?”

Savi fluffed his feathers and spread his wings, angered, while Kili started cawing. That was their way of laughing.

Savi punched his brother in the shoulder and shouted: “Shut up dumbass.” The brother slapped him across the beak “Don’t you hit me, I’m older than you.”

Roger kept taunting him “Hey Savi, how are you flying upside down? Wait, you aren’t, I just confused your face and your ass, my bad.”

It was clearly a sore topic for the bird, for a human it was hard to tell what a “good looking” birdperson was supposed to be, but apparently, Savi wasn’t one.

Kili laughed again, Siri seemed about to hit him again but restrained himself. His fists were clenched, and his eyes were darting between his brother and Roger.

“Hey turkey face, why-”

Before Roger could finish the phrase, the bird swept down and punched him in the mouth. The boy flew backwards and fell down the wall, slamming on the stones below, bleeding from his mouth. Savi screamed and jumped on top of him.

Without thinking, Jacob followed and launched himself at the two. He felt Roger growing in pain, crushed under two people, but he also felt the bones in the wings of the Aarakocra crack and snap against his torso. Siri cried in pain and started tearing up.

Their wing bones were hollow and light,fragile at such a young age. They were still developing, so the damage would have fixed itself in a few days, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

The bird started bawling, and Jacob tried to get down from the pile, but Kili was faster, he flew down and kicked him in the ribs. Jacob rolled to the ground with a grunt, that kick had been really strong and painful and he heard his own ribs creaking. He covered his face, ready for more, but it never came.

He looked up, and Kili had helped Savi, still crying, getting back up, and the two were walking away. Kili seemed to be limping, the kick had been strong enough to hurt his own feet. The two birdmen got away, throwing hateful glances at the two kids as they left.

Roger was already up, despite his bleeding nose and helped Jacob getting back on his feet.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Shame for the soup tho. What’s their problem anyway?”

“Haven’t dealt with them much, Jacob? They arrived in the Bridge a few months ago, large group of birdmen, they used to live on a mountain nearby, but had to leave, some landslide I think. They’ve been causing problems since, their parents, I hear they’re mostly criminals.”

“How do you even know that?”

“Oh, you know, rumours. I hard it somewhere.”

“Have you been talking to my sister again? This seems the kind of thing she’d care about.”

“Mmmmh, maybe? I don’t remember.”

“She’s gonna turn you stupid, she always cares ‘bout the stupidest things, out of the bridge, stuff nobody cares for.”

“I think that’s just you.”

“Whatever, let’s go home, I think I’ve cracked a bone.”

The guard

Ten years later

The store was, as always, a mess. Jacob didn’t really like going there, but it was the best place around. They had everything you could need and more. He wasn’t sure everything was obtained legally, but he wasn’t on duty so not his problem.

A deep woman voice called to him from somewhere

“Welcome to our humble store, we’re always glad to service our beloved Bridge Watch.”

“Not on duty.”

“Oh, good, then give me a hand moving this stuff.”

Behind the shelves, a short, stubby dwarf woman, black hair cut to her shoulders, in a simple blue dress was

pulling some metallic boxes full of small holes down from a shelf and replacing them with other, similar boxes.

“Hi, Jelena. What’s this stuff?” He said as he started helping.

“Hi, Jacob. Lanterns. Decorative, mostly. Getting popular recently, but the old ones I have are all rust inside.”

“Strange things. Anyway, I was just passing by. Starting my new shift today.”

“Oh yeah, I think you told me, night shift pay well?”

“Eh, isn’t bad. But they’re a lot calmer than working at the marketplace. Still, not that I care much.”

“Really don’t like your job, eh? A shame, one should try to enjoy what they have, I believe.”

“I don’t hate it, but you know that’s not what I want to do. Say, I’ve heard your husband was a delver?”

A shadow passed over the dwarf expression, but just for a moment. Jacob wasn’t sure if he had really seen it.

“He was.”

“You… You never told me.”

“No? Must have forgotten.”

”Cause I was thinking, maybe you know something in there, You could present me someone or…”

“Sorry, never really got involved with his job. Besides, it’s been many years.”

It was obvious she didn’t like talking about it, but it was his first chance in years to get close to the job of his dreams.

“Really can’t tell me anything?”

The dwarf sighed “Look, I know you want to go explore the other bridge and all but believe me it’s really nothing special. He was as excited as you when he started but in a year it had become routine like any other job. Just more dangerous.”

“Oh, alright”

The two kept moving boxes around in awkward silence for a few minutes until the dwarf spoke “Listen, honestly, I don’t know anyone that still works there, sorry. But I can tell you this. It’s dangerous. You know how he died?”

“No.”

“Nobody does. One day he was just gone.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“They don’t like talking about it, but that place is really dangerous, things don’t work like normal. You can turn a corner and get lost forever, streets don’t stay put, and the whole place twists your mind.”

“Oh… I didn’t… I had no idea… Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, kid. I get it, it sounds cool, they want people to go in there, exploring dreams and all. But think about it some more, it’s really dangerous.”

“Uh, I will. thanks.”

Once they were done moving the lanterns around, Jacob left. The sun was already going down, but he still had time.

Half an hour later, he was at he barrack, inside it was dark and musty. There was only one person, sitting in front of a window with a mug in his hand.

“Already here, Roger?”

“Mh, I can’t be late every time.”

“Oh yeah, you could be late for your drinking on the job. What would we do then.”

“Want some?”

“Sure.”

“Have you heard about Kili?”

“Yeah, shame.”

“True, are you going to the funeral?”

“I think so, yeah. He was a real bastard but still, I would feel bad not going. You?”

“Can’t, I have work that day.”

The two spent some time drinking in silence, in the dark. The air was getting cold.

After a few minutes, the last guy arrived. His name was Kovan, a man with long moustaches about their age, but they didn’t know him really well. He nodded, they nodded back, in that sort of awkward way where both sides can’t avoid but wondering if they are not being polite enough and looking like a jerk or being too polite and looking weird.

Thankfully, the captain walked in right after and he didn’t have any such qualm: his body was large, but he was generally too busy being angry to care about it and carried his belly around with the grace of a charging hippo.

He slammed the door open, and screamed “Get off your asses rookies and be on location ten minutes ago.” Then he walked right back out, with the three trying to keep up through the dark roads of the Bridge.

After a few minutes, they reached a grim alleyway. There wasn’t anything particular in it besides a wall-mounted torch that illuminated a store name painted in yellow letters on a wall, it read “Balver’s” followed by other unreadable words; most of the stores around here were empty, bought or bullied away by Popali to expand his villa.

At the end of the street was a small metallic door, and behind it the garden of the house of one of the richest merchants in town, Popali was famous for his onions, he was the first to introduce them to the Bridge, but he dealt in much more. His villa had suffered various robberies recently, and they were pretty sure this was the thieves way in.

Because of its nature, the Bridge didn’t really have rich quarters, the largest houses were close to more modest ones and burglars always had a dozen different ways to get inside.

Large houses were made by demolishing other, smaller houses, space was a scarce resource on the Bridge and everybody had to fight for it, land had to be carved out of nearby houses, and rich people built their homes by demolishing others.

As a result, everything was surrounded by everything, the rich and middle class lived closed enough to elbow each other in the sides, and the poor spread in the nooks and crannies created by their fights.

Bridge guards were constantly keeping an eye out for these entrances and patrolling the ones they thought were being used, often being moved around and relocated. There weren’t enough guards to keep an eye on everything, so it was a complicated game of prevention, informants, spies and guesswork.

“Very well rookies. First time night shift for all of you, so try to not fuck up. See you in ten hours.”

The captain left before they could even reply, and the three just stood around awkwardly for a bit.

Roger sat down on the stone road, Jacob grabbed a bucket that had been left there, meanwhile Kovan walked around the area a few times checking everything was in order.

“Man, this job is useless. Nobody goes through here, let’s bail.” Moaned Roger.

“C’ mon, not on the first day. Besides what if rats really come?”

“Nobody ever goes through here, you really want to spend all night here? We can be back in an hour with something to drink.”

“Eh… You sure it’s safe?”

“I’ve talked with some of the other guards. All that stuff about thieves is bull. They just wanted to appease some rich douche. Nobody’s coming. “

“Really? Well then, let’s go.”

“You coming, Kovan?”

“Don’t even try. If you two want to dick around do it but I’m not involved.”

“Ah C’ mon man, don’t be an ass.”

“Just doing my job, you should try sometimes.”

“I work great, when it’s a real job, this is just… It’s a waste. Come with us.”

“Go away, Roger.”

“Dude, please, you’re making me sad.”

“What do you even care? Just go, get drunk, I don’t care. I’m not gonna report you.”

“But- whatever, let’s go, Jacob.”

The two put on long cloaks, to cover their uniforms, and took to the streets making sure to not draw too much attention.

It was late at night, but many places were still open, catering to both night workers and the many nocturnal creatures that lived on the Bridge, plus the constant stream of travellers and merchants that crowded the Bridge main street, the Ring Road, at all times of day and night.

The Bridge had a lot of nighttime activity, but that particular area wasn’t very popular: It was a generally rich neighbourhood and the locals had better places to be in at that hour. They only people they crossed an elf trying to sell them drugs, some beggars and two drunk goblins sleeping in the middle of the street.

Jacob had always felt bad for goblins: small and stupid, they lived at the bottom of society everywhere they went, getting kicked around by most other races. Few of them ever achieved anything, most turned to crime.

The two didn’t have to walk long before finding a tavern; The Dreary Blobfish was a wooden pub overwhelmed by much more imponent stone building that had climbed all around and over it.

Where they had large columns, balconies and chimnies, the Blobfish had plain walls, faded, with many unnailed boards, and its windows were yellow and greasy, letting little light through.

Inside the place wasn’t very large, but the atmosphere was surprisingly good: of the three tables, two burly dwarfs were occupying one, playing cards with various empty glasses around them, another was taken by a blonde elf, staring into a half-empty bottle of ale with dazed eyes, and the last had half a dozen gnomes that were busy discussing something around a map of the Bridge. The place was softly illuminated by pleasant paper lamps.

The bartender was an elf, dressed in a simple sleeveless tunic, revealing a surprisingly muscular body. Tattoos were visible on his shoulders.

“Hey, is this place ok? Seems a bit sketchy” Whispered Jacob.

“Well, I’ve heard stories of these elves, but it’s all rumours, otherwise the Watch would have done something, no? This place isn’t really hidden.” replied Roger.

Nobody paid any attention to the two guards, so they sat down at the counter and ordered to drink.

The bartender was a lively guy, very talkative, so a lot of time passed without the two noticing.

When their captain entered the tavern, they were much too drunk to hear him. Jacob was about to drink another glass of beer when his head was slammed against the wooden counter.

He recoiled in pain, screaming, blood started pouring from his nose and all over his lap. He turned and his own glass of beer was dumped on his head.

It took a few seconds for him to collect his thought, then he realized his captain was in front of him.

Jacob went pale and stuttered, too drunk, scared and in pain to say anything.

“First day! Your damn first day working for someone important, and I find you drunk out of your asses on the clock. You fucking morons.”

“Captain I didn’t… It’s not… We…”

The captain grabbed him and pulled him up, keeping him just a few inches away from his face.”And guess what genius? Someone broke in. Hope you had a lot of fun because you’re not seeing this place again for a long time.”

“Wh- What?” He whimpered in confusion.

“You two idiots are gonna have fun guarding the pillars.”

“Oh, shit, no, captain please I’m not-”

“Try to complain and I swear I’ll kick you down there personally. And this goes for you two Roger. You have one hour to get cleaned up, then be at the elevators.”

“Y- yes sir. We will sir.”

The captain threw Jacob back down, looked around with a disgusted expression, then left, murmuring “Damn drunks, ruining this damn place.” As he slammed the door shut.

All the glasses in the tavern trembled, then it was silent again. The only patron left was the elf, now sleeping at his table.

After collecting their thoughts in silence, the two guards got up and dragged themselves out.

As he was about to leave, Roger stopped, and murmured “Oh… I have to pay.”

Jacob nodded in silence and kept walking, without waiting for him.

Roger went back in, threw some coins on the counter, then turned towards the elf, that now was well awake and looking at him with a smile.

The elf gave him a thumb up, Roger smiled, then he left in a hurry to catch up with his friend. It wasn’t long before the two were in front of the entrance building.

Some of the Bridge pillars were empty, with multiple large elevators built inside them. Some for goods and wares, others for people. They were all accessed through large buildings built right on top of the pillars at the intersections with the largest road in town, the Ring Road, that run around the entire length of the ring.

There wasn’t much movement in there, very few people had a reason to go down in the jungle. Even fewer were allowed to come from it. Mostly just guards that spent their time lazing around and making sure everything was in working order.

The building was very simple: a small office for the soldiers, the elevators controls and a large and solid wooden platform built around the lifts shaft. This was a square, fifty or so meters long, and a thousand deep.

A dozen platforms of different sizes went straight down the pit. Nobody knew exactly how they worked or what was powering them, they were as old as the Bridge, and has simply worked for thousands of years requiring very minor maintenance every now and then. People didn’t care too much to investigate, after all, the Bridge provides.

Jacob and Roger entered the room and were brought to one of the smaller elevators right away, the captain was already there, chatting with one of the local guards. As soon as he saw them, he stopped and greeted them with a smile.

“Well Well, here is our two morons, I hope you enjoy your new workplace, unless you would prefer taking a break? I know a nice inn not far.”

The two walked on the elevator without a word, looking at their feet, and the captain slapped them on the head as they walked by.

As soon as they were all up, there was a series of clanking noises, the platform trembled, then it started moving down. At first slowly, but it rapidly took up speed.

The trip down the elevator took only a couple of minutes, and the captain spent all of it giving the two guards a speech on responsibility and work ethics, with the only interruption being a tiny fairy that started buzzing around Jacob’s head; the creature, no longer than his pinky, was wearing a minuscule piece of blue cloth that identified it as a member of the watch.

Fairies were relatively common in the Bridge, needing little space to live and being able to travel freely between it and the forest below; some fairies were employed as messengers, spies or scouts, even by the Bridge Watch, even if their erratic personalities and lack of any real society made it hard to deal with them.

The creature, flying around the elevator on iridescent wings similar to those of a dragonfly, started bombarding Jacob and Roger with questions. “What happened? Why did you leave? Did you go meet your mistress? Are you a criminal? Are you gonna go to jail? Where did you go? How long?”

Jacob swatted away at the creature, uselessly. Fairies were very curious creatures and, above all, loved stories. They would write plays, spread gossip and create tales about everything they knew about, any story they heard would be enthusiastically shared a hundred times, each time changing a bit. Fairies didn’t care too much for details or truth, most of them thought telling a good story was more important than telling an accurate one and would add or remove details to make everything more exciting, or more dramatic or more fun, depending on their mood. They were a scourge for anyone on the Bridge that had something to hide or an embarrassing secret to keep hidden.

At the very least, thought Jacob, if he was gonna be stuck down there for a year he would have missed the worst of the rumours, and maybe people would have forgotten about it by the time the punishment was over.

There were many small windows on the elevator path, initially, they could only see the pitch black of the night and a few clouds, but as they got closer to the ground, they became able to make out the outline of the jungle below them, growing closer and closer.

Once the fairy left, realizing the two weren’t in the mood for an interview, the only noise left was the grinding of the elevator chains. In the deep silence, Jacob was left alone with his thoughts and felt himself dying inside. Guarding the pillar was a slow, boring and dangerous job, a punishment for the worst guards. He had never heard of anyone sent down there achieving anything or doing anything with their lives, once they got back up.

The platform suddenly slowed down, then it slammed against the ground, shaking intensely and lifting a cloud of dust. The captain bowed to them and pointed towards the pillar exit

“If the two gentlemen wish, we have reached their new home for the next year. We wish you a miserable stay.”

Jacob had no intention of spending any more time with him, so he walked out the pillar as fast as possible.

Outside the pillar, a rough wooden shack had been built around the entrance. The guards that worked there were supposed to spend their days there and were allowed to come back up only once a week. There were beds, storage and a kitchen, with some food being sent down regularly.

More surprisingly were all the others: around the pillar base there were a few dozen other buildings, most were made of wood and very simple, but the outer ones seemed more fortified, with stone walls and steel doors.

There seemed to be some sort of community down there. Roger approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, sorry man. I don’t feel good about it.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t mean anything bad, and we both got screwed. It’s fine. It’s fine.”

“That’s not…” Roger hesitated “Yeah, you’re right. It’s gonna be fine.”

One of the guards slapped him on the back of the head, it was starting to hurt and Jacob’s nose started bleeding again a bit. He really wished people could stop hitting his head.

“Are you two the new suckers, crybabies? Have fun down here, while you can. It’s really not as bad as they tell you.”

“Isn’t this- I thought it was a crime to live in the jungle.” Replied Jacob.

The guard took a few seconds to answer.

“It is, sort of, but we still need these stations so they get a pass. A few

merchants arrive from down here, and explorers bring treasures from the ruins, but mostly it’s logging, mining and hunting. A lot of the Bridge money comes from down here, it’s one of the few things the council keeps a monopoly on, legally at least.

The people down here are a base camp of a sort.”

“I had never heard of this.”

“They don’t like to talk about us. Prefer to pretend the jungle is just savages and beasts, their little secret treasure trove But don’t get me wrong, this place isn’t a vacation, the woods are also crawling with things that will do horrible things to you, besides beasts and monsters, there are all the poor saps that died in there, bodies left to rot become zombies. And the natives aren’t always friendly either, some dangerous people in there. As long as you stay put, you’ll probably be fine.”

Roger approached him “Hey, it’s not so bad, maybe we’ll meet your sister, I’ve heard she’s working near here.”

“That makes it even worse, I have no idea why you would want to meet her.” replied Jacob annoyed. He never had a good relationship with his sister, she’s always cared more about the jungle and the world around than the city in the sky, and as soon as she had been able she had started exploring down there.

They met rarely, and they always fought when they did. Not to mention, he disliked that she was involved in such dangerous things, last time she had seen her she had a horrible scar over her face, being anxious about her was the last thing he needed.

Jacob sat down and looked at the Bridge above him. The sky was really brewing up a storm, but they were right under the Bridge. During the day they would be covered by its shadow for most of the day; at least it would have kept the rain away.

He concluded his priority was getting a new pair of breeches, possibly one without blood; after that, he would consider what to do with the rest of his life.

The Thief

The day was coming to an end, and Jelena was locking her store shutters before closing the store for the night when she heard the door opening.

“Sorry, we’re closing.”

“I know” replied a male, gravely voice.

Jelena sighed. She knew that voice.

“What do you want, Rot?”

“Oh, C’mon, is that how you talk to an old friend?”

Jelena moved behind the counter and started sifting through her books, avoiding to look at his guest. Rot was leaning against a shelf, staring at her. He was hiding something behind his back.

Average height, large shoulders, still muscular despite his age. Large chin, thick grey beard. Rot was getting old, for a human, but still had plenty of strength in him. Some said he had orc blood in him. Jelena could believe it.

“We don’t know each other, Rot.”

“Oh, right. Well then, Good morning miss. I would like to hire you for a job.”

Jelena looked at him. “Are you serious?”

“It’s an important job, and very urgent, It pays very well.”

“What are you doing here, rot?” She was starting to get angry.

“Asking an old friend for a favour.”

“There is no friend. There is no job. I left, Rot. You know how it works, why the hell do you think you can come in here after years and just drag me in your crap? “

He moved closer to her, pulled the package he was keeping hidden and placed in on the counter.

“I know, look, I’m sorry but I really need you. There is nobody else I can go to, right now.” The package was a small, rectangular piece of cloth, tied together with some rope.

“No.”

“Listen, Jelena, I know you don’t want to but I really need you.”

“Goddamnit Rot, I retired. Once we retire, we’ve never existed. You can’t get me to come back. I’ve left that life behind me. I’m not a criminal anymore.”

“Two thousand.”

“Ten.”

“Five.

“Seven.”

“I can’t do more than five.”

“Cone on Rot, I got taxes to pay, you know? And the cost of living keeps on growing, I’m not running a charity here, you have to-”

“You pay taxes? Since when?”

“I don’t see how that matters now. My price is my price, pay or leave.”

“You’re bleeding me out here, Jelena. C’mon.”

“Seven.”

“Fucking…. Alright. I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. Not a criminal my ass, this is pure theft”

“So what’s the job?” Jelena said as she picked up the item, inspecting it.

“Just a delivery.”

“Mmh. It doesn’t make sound, but it weighs a lot. Metallic. Lead protection?

“Platinum.”

“Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Told you it’s a big job.”

“And you can’t find anyone else but an old retired criminal like me?”

“None that won’t just run away with it.”

Jelena spent a few minutes staring at the package, before talking again.

“Where did you get it?”

“Please, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fuck you, Rot.”

She threw the package on the counter.

“You for real? Yeah, it’s from the other bridge. Alright? We just found it yesterday. Immediately recognized it was something big. “

“You know I don’t touch stuff from up there, Roger. And this time I’m serious.”

He sighed. “I know. Was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“… That’s it? Not gonna try to convince me? No lies?”

“Look, I’m really in trouble this time, I need this delivered tonight.”

The two remained silent for a while, staring at each other.

“Ok”

“Thank you, really. I-”

“Don’t. Just tell me what’s the job.”

“It’s simple, really: You gotta take it to a man in the garden of Popali’s Villa.”

“The onion merchant?”

“Yes, It’s one of his servants. An elf, male, short blonde hair. He’ll be waiting for you in front of the ogre fountain in the back garden.”

“Seems like a dangerous time to go poke the rich, two council elections are close, and after the riots in Longbranch street, well they’re all a bit jittery. Heightened security.”

“Popali doesn’t really do politics, not that much, so that shouldn’t be a problem..”

“If you say so, is the job that simple?”

“No, or I would do it myself. The Bridge Watch has guards placed all around the building. But we’ve got a way: there is a small entrance to the garden on one side.”

“Yeah, I think I know the place. In front of the old Balver house.”

“We’ve got a friend there. He’s gonna make the guards there move and leave the door open. Should be no problem. There will be a few… colleagues at the villa, doing another job, if anything happens they should draw away most of the attention. Just ignore them.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, but as long as they stay away from the garden, should be fine. We’ll see. Well, you can leave. I gotta prepare.”

“Thank you. Really, thanks.”

“Oh shut up and go.”

Once alone, Jelena finished closing up the store, then went in the back and opened a heavy chest. Inside, was a bronze key. She picked up the bronze key and inserted it in a small slit in the wooden floor, made to look like a regular hole.

The key slid in and turned without a sound. She pushed a wardrobe out of the way. Below it, a hole had opened. Inside the hole was a bag.

She pulled out the bag, all of her old gear inside it. She hadn’t touched any of it in years, but it was mostly in good condition. She had kept most of her items, except a few that had been sold or destroyed just to be safe.

There was a pair of black boots that didn’t make any sound when walking, and a belt of ropes that could be unrolled to become many meters long, an obsidian amulet, black gloves and a scarf. There were multiple layers of clothes, making it hard to tell what body size or even race was hiding under them.

She covered herself in a long, black hooded cloak that reached to her calves and hid the package in one of its hidden pockets.

She walked to a corner of her store. Above a pile of crates was a small birdcage. Covered with a towel.

She pulled it down and revealed it, Inside was a bird similar to a hummingbird with a smooth, metallic look to it, its feathers as polished as a mirror reflecting the room around it.

She opened the cage, and the bird flew out, chirping happily as it hovered around her.

“Alright boy, we’re back in business, tonight. Excited?”

The bird made a little twirl and landed on her shoulder.

“Very well. Let’s hope I’m not too rusty.”

Jelena made another round of the store, making sure everything was closed, and left from the back door. The street was dark, nobody around.

It was a moonless night, with a light, humid breeze. Soon it would rain.

She took to the streets, trying to stay out of sight in the alleyways.

“Urban planning” wasn’t a thing, on the Bridge, things were built and removed according to whoever could impose its will on its neighbours, her own store had an old tailor shop built above it and a potter on one side, the month before it was a doctor office, and the year prior a woodworker.

The citizens came from all over the universe, so there wasn’t any sort of coherent style: stone and wall, brick and marble coexisted next, around and on top of each other, with many hanging precariously over the edge of the Bridge, trying to create space where there was none. Some had even been built below the Bridge, attached to its underbelly.

It wasn’t a very desirable location: those houses had a tendency of falling, and guards rarely bothered to go down there. But space was space, and people weren’t gonna waste any, if they could. Death is a possibility, the cold of the night is guaranteed.

Rot had talked about a door, but she didn’t trust him and didn’t like to rely on corrupted guards. Better take a safer road, relatively speaking.

Jelena reached the outer border of the Bridge, in a narrow passage between two old houses was a metallic ladder that went down the Bridge side. It was a rather dangerous passage, hanging precariously over a thousand meters drop, especially at night when the metal was cold and slippery.

She never liked it, but she had used it many times in her youth.

Below the Bridge was a web of precarious wooden houses, roughly attached to the stone above them, connected by a web of large wooden platforms that formed a roadway of some kind, standing at different heights and angles, everything dangling over the void by some unknown miracle.

The poor and criminals lived in the hanging houses, the poorer lived in tents spread around the scaffolding, falling down was a common event, at least when compared to the people living above.

The place wasn’t as dangerous as it looked. Perhaps it was something in the Bridge, but houses down there were more stable than they had any right to be.

There weren’t that many people around, some young gnomes were sitting on the road, their feet dangling in the void, talking loudly. She recognized them as gnomes from Cavabigia, because they were wearing a red sash, as it was the fashion in that town.

That city had recently been swept by civil unrest following some mining accident or other, and its people had moved in large numbers to the Bridge. Many of them were wealthy people, forced to leave by rioters; unable to adapt to their sudden poverty they tended to be often drunk, violent and reckless, so she kept a good distance from them Instead she passed next to a hooded, hunched creature was pushing a wheelbarrow upon a steep, creaky platform; she saw seven shimmering eyes glancing down at her. The creature went its way without a word.

She kept walking, many of the platforms here were large enough for two carts to pass at once and easy to navigate. Nobody seemed to pay her any attention. Down there, getting too nosy was a bad idea, people knew to keep to themselves. Those that didn’t, it was very easy to make a body disappear.

The underbridge wasn’t covered in houses, instead, it had a few patches of buildings here and there, usually built around some major store or church. In this case, it was the church of Vertumnus, god nature, orchards and growth. His temple was two rectangular two-floors wooden buildings, one the temple proper, the other a public refectory that served food at low or no price for the needy. with a luxurious hanging garden in the middle. All sorts of plants grew there, despite the complete lack of sunlight; vegetables, some fruit trees and a few edible flowers, all of them served in the refectory. The menu was very varied if you were ok with never eating any meat.

When Jelena entered the temple there were only a few priests, caretakers they were called, wearing their traditional uniform: a long brown cloak, often ragged and muddied by working in orchards or tending to the green around the Bridge, a rope belt with a few tools hanging and a green, red or brown cloak. All of their clothes were hand-made and maintained by themselves from the plants they grew, Vertumnus was all about that kind of self-made nonsense. Jelena never understood it. In general, not buying things was weird, in the Bridge.

“Excuse me, caretaker?”

The human was short, chubby, red cheeks, few hairs and fingers covered in something red. Tomatoes, from the smell.

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for someone, I’ve heard he started working here recently. He’s called Vox”

“That’s nice. He doesn’t get many visitors. Only the Bridge Watch a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, nothing serious I hope.”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s in the back, near the bell. Small door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

Jelena entered in a smaller room, with a large stone bell covered in vines sitting in the middle. Kneeling over the bell, a two meters tall creature with large wings and grey, stone skin.

“Hey, Vox. How’s my favourite gargoyle doing?”

The creature turned, surprised. His joints creaked, spreading dust around.

“Jelena, you old dirtbag. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve heard you had some troubles at work, came to check out on you, everything fine?”

“No, really, what do you need?”

“Wow, hey, I’m not that heartless. I was gonna come even if I didn’t need anything.”

“I know, I know. Come, sit.” He pulled a dust-covered stall from a corner.

“Thanks. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Bit of everything, sweeping, fixing holes in the floor, cleaning this bell for the autumn fest. flying is pretty convenient down here if you gotta move things around. Don’t expect to be here long, hopefully.”

“So, how’d you get fired, again?”

“Didn’t get fired. It’s weirder, kinda long story.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Uh, why? You planning to rob Popali’s villa?”

“No, but some people are, apparently. I’m collecting information.”

“Fair. So, I was working at the copper company down at the harbour, right? That was, uh, a year ago? Their mines on some islands up north got invaded by some giants, company almost went under, had to fire people.”

“I know that, why does it matter now?”

“It does, shut it and listen. So, they fire lost, security included, I was kinda happy, that place is too dump for me, too many seagulls. Anyway, a few days later there is a theft, probably ex-workers wanted their severance, I wasn’t involved but had no alibi, so I got signed up by the Bridge Watch. It’s like, they take your name, you’re considered suspicious, lose all security clearanse. Kinda bad, in my work.”

“I believe that, but how you got a job guarding Popali’s villa?”

“That’s the thing, I dunno. I had no clearance, but they got me any way. I think it was her daughter, said it didn’t matter. Hired me and a bunch of other guys from the copper company. So things are fine for a while, cosy job, until them thefts start. Once the Bridge Watch gets involved, they do a background check on all the security, and we’re all fucked. We’re all still suspicious, can’t be there. So here I am. They threw us out, but technically I still work there. I’m just not allowed in the premise.”

“That’s odd.”s

“Right? No idea what they were thinking, hiring us. They didn’t think at the first issue, we’d be all removed by the Watch? Anyway, that means now security’s full of holes. Almost nobody’s guarding the roof.”

“Clearly that was intentional, no? I mean they wanted to-”

“Oh no, don’t drag me in that. I know nothing, heard nothing. I just do my job, catch thieves. I don’t deal with them stupid conspiricies and tricks and other nonsense. If they want me back, I am. If not, I’m out, but nothing more.”

“Ok, ok, relax. Let me deal with that kind of thing. Just stay put, whatever is going on.”

“That’s the plan, as always. Staying put is what a gargoyle does best.” He concluded with a smile.

Jelena was hoping to get some information but left only with more questions.

Normally she would have taken more time, it’s dangerous to go into a job blind. Stupidly dangerous when someone as rich as Popali is involved. But she was getting old, who had that kind of time? Besides, the job was apparently urgent.

After a good hour of walking, she reached her new destination. Above her were some of the richest houses on the Bridge, it was a relatively wealthy area, and where the onion king lived.

They didn’t appreciate an army of hoboes hanging below their villas, and as a result, that section of the Bridge had almost nothing built below it.

A few scattered catwalks with no railings were still there, maybe for maintenance. It was very bad. Suicidal, almost, even for the people of the Bridge.

But they were still the most convenient way around, so Jelena forced herself to get on them. It took a long time to traverse them, creeks and vibrations at every step, swinging over the void.

The air was cold, the wood slippery, but she had done it for decades, many years had passed since the last excursion but it was all coming back to her. Muscle memory. Slow steps, careful but constant. Stay low. Breath. Walk. Never look down.

Meanwhile, the bird was flying around her without a care in the world. Bells tolled three times in the night, and she had reached her destination.

She was on a catwalk that stopped mid-air, a few meters from the edge of the Bridge. There, invisible in the dark a few meters above her, were a series of small notches one could use to climb over its side. The notches were almost invisible for anyone that didn’t know what to look for but good enough for an experienced climber.

She had the little hummingbird land on her finger, then whispered to it

“Hey little guy, Remember this place? I’m gonna need a hook. “

The bird chirped happily, then it shivered and rippled, as if made of water, and after a few seconds it melted into a shapeless blob of shiny metal. Then, it reformed into a small hook.

Jelena undid the rope on her belt and tied one end to the hook, then threw it in the dark. It flew forward, down, then tiny metallic wings appeared on it and it started flowing up, towards the top of the Bridge.

It clanged against the rock, then stuck to it with little bird feet, she could hear it scuttle over the stone until it found a good position to secure itself.

Jelena took a deep breath, then she jumped from the catwalk.

It wasn’t a big jump, but she was still hanging by a rope hundreds of meters from the ground, at night, her feet dangling in the void. It wasn’t as easy as when she was two decades younger.

“Stupid Rot. Can’t find anyone better than… whatever.” She murmured to herself.

She made her way over the rope, trying to not sway too much in the void until she managed to grab the stone with her hands. Now the hard part.

Rich people had alarms and security, in their houses, and there always was something on the edge of the Bridge. Traps, spells, guards, the most open entrance was also the most guarded.

Jelena tied the rope around her arm and used the other hand to feel the rocks. It was cold, humid, lifeless.

Her gloves were easily the most expensive part of her equipment: magical gloves, able to feel magical energy, small vibration and electrical currents; a great tool to find anything hidden.

She couldn’t feel anything yet, so she climbed up an arm length, then started feeling the stone again. Still nothing. She kept climbing this way for roughly twenty minutes until she had reached around half-way through. Her shoulders had started to hurt, and she was sweating. The slow climb was tiring, and not finding anything made her nervous. The stone was cold and silent, residual magic from the Bridge flowing slow and sluggish under her fingers. Ancient magic, permeating everything, background noise.

Another step towards the top, then she felt it: a warm, radiating pulse, right under her fingers. She tapped lightly a brick and felt it vibrating. Waves of energy rushed through her arm, crawling through her skin, warm, violent.

They had probably ramped up security after the recent break-ins. She was right below a dangerous trap, no way to tell exactly what, she was no wizard,

but she knew danger.

She tasted around, carefully, just scraping the rock. Only a few bricks seemed magical, placed at regular intervals. Half of them were bursting with that intense magic, the others were cold, tense like a violin string. Trap and trigger, or maybe trigger and alarm.

Slowly, she crawled through the trapped area, trying to not touch any of the traps, feeling their position as she climbed. It required a bit of contorting, the bricks seemed to be placed in random order and passing over them without touching any took some flexibility she wasn’t sure she had.

She grabbed a small crack in the stone, pulled herself up, and it gave away. She started falling backwards, she pushed against the wall with her feet and jumped, pushing herself away, and started falling.

“Oh gods this wi-”

She reached the end of the rope. It tightened violently around her stomach and forced all the air out, leaving her coughing violently, dangling in the air. She stood there for a few seconds, catching her breath and concentration.

Everybody makes mistakes, the difference between an expert and a novice was not making more trying to fix the first: if she had just fallen, or tried to grab the wall to stop the fall, she would have touched one of the traps. Jumping down like that, keeping her distance from the wall, was painful, but also safe.

She climbed up again, now she knew where the traps were so it took a lot less effort and time.

She pulled herself over the edge, rolled over and lied down on the stone for a few minutes, sweating and breathing heavily. It had taken more than an hour to get up there from the catwalks. Her arms hurt, her shoulders were on fire, and her back was still sore from the fall.

Really, really not as easy as when she was young.

The hook pulled itself over and turned back into a bird, chirping joyfully around her.

She was on top of a smooth marble wall decorated with onion mosaics, near-impossible to climb without some aid, in front of her a large garden full of hedges, trees and flowers. It had many plants from all over the world, and probably many guards patrolling it. Behind the garden was the villa, towering over most of the Bridge. White as an onion. A few lights were still on.

“Thank the gods I don’t have to get in there. The garden is more than enough.” She whispered to the little hummingbird.

The fountain she had to reach wasn’t far, but she had no idea where guards would be, the night was too dark to see them and, hopefully, for them to see her, but there was no guarantee: plenty of things could see in the dark, or didn’t need to see at all.



Jelena jumped down and landed on the lush grass. Her magical boots were barely leaving any footprint or noise, all she could hear the crowd in the large street in front of the Villa, a few insects around the garden and the ticking of water on the marble of the fountains.

She made her way around the maze, slowly. Not knowing what security was In place made her uneasy but at that point, it was too late to go back.

She found no problems saved for a couple of guards passed nearby forcing her to stand still for a few minutes, hidden behind a patch of blooming moonflowers, and shortly after she had reached the ogre fountain. Tucked in a corner of the garden, this large and ancient fountain depicted a hammer-wielding warrior fighting two ogres, the water was made to flow from the wounds of the ogres as if it was their blood. The statue was damaged with the warrior’s head and half its body missing, only the ogres were left, hence the name. Sitting on the edge of the fountain was an elf, blonde, skinny, shivering in a thick cape, twisting his gloved hands. No visible weapons. Jelena waited behind a bush for a few minutes, unwilling to take any risk. A few windows in the upper floor of the manor light up and then went dark again, she could see some movement around the roof. Maybe those were the “other colleagues” that Rot had mentioned.

The glare from a patrol passed behind a hedge, accompanied by the croaking of some beast in the street outside the villa. The noise startled her, it was really loud, it sounded like the call of some large animal she didn’t know. It wasn’t rare for foreign merchants to bring unusual beasts through the Bridge.

The dwarf left her hiding place and approached the fountain.

“Hey”

The elf was startled “Oh, hey, are you the, you have the thing?” He looked at her anxiously.

He had no idea what he was doing, clearly. They had sent a rookie for the job, Jelena found it strange, but she had no reason to investigate further. She just asked “What’s the code?”

The elf turned pale “Code? I don’t…. Nobody told me about a code, I-”

“Ah, I’m just fucking with you, here is the package” She replied, and placed the object at the opposite end of the fountain, then she took a few steps back, keeping her distance. There probably was no reason to be cautious, but there also was no reason to take risks.

The elf approached and picked it up, hesitantly.

“Uh, what is this anyway?”

Jelena shrugged and left. The elf called out to her again, she ignored him. Time to go back home. Leaving from where she entered wasn’t an option, rappelling down was a lot harder, without proper gear. Maybe if she was twenty years younger.

She made her way across the hedge maze. The croaking from the road had become louder, and she could hear the shuffling of feet on the grass and clanging of weapons in that direction, leaving very few guards around.

Someone had created a distraction to make the guards move, probably Rot’s colleagues.

To dodge a guard rushing towards the entrance, she made her way over a patch of freshly planted dahlias and reached the edge of the garden; a tall stone wall separated the villa from the houses outside, and just as Rot had said, there was a metallic door. She approached it, slowly. The door was open. She grabbed the handle, then stopped. Someone was outside. She could hear their breathing.



Jelena tapped her hummingbird on the beak and pointed towards the door. It flew over the wall and on whoever was there.

“Shoo, stupid bird, shoo”

Only one voice, male, probably human. Clanging metal. Likely a guard, armed.

What to do? Kill him was out of the question, too risky, and not worth it after the job was already done. Could she sneak past him, while the hummingbird distracted him? Maybe. Send him away, somehow?

She put her forehead against the cold metal of the door and stood there, thinking, for a while. It had been a long time since she had been in a real job like this, working in the field; nostalgic memories were coming back to her.

Stalking nobles to know where their houses were vulnerable, breaking in with her colleagues, running out, through the streets chased by guards. Chased by rivals through the underbridge. Hiding from monsters, shopkeepers, angry mobs. Waiting for hours hidden in a crate for a patrol to leave.

Once she got turned into a frog by a trap, took four months to get back to normal. She hadn’t thought about it in years and laughed under her breath. Before she could make a decision, more noise came from the alleyway: voices, heavy steps, followed by screaming and swearing. The Bridge Watch captain had come back and wasn’t happy to find only one guard there. Rot really had tried to clear the way, apparently, but one of them stayed back, for some reason.

Whatever the case, there were four of five people outside that door now. Then she noticed something: the croaking noise from the street had stopped, and the rest of the guards was coming back. She could see the lights of their lamps over the hedges and hear them chatting with each other. They were close. She looked towards the roof, and could still make up some movement, they were still there.

The unnerving thought that maybe she was the real distraction popped in her mind. It was absurd, unless Rot wanted her to get in troubles, and that was entirely possible.

Jelena took a deep breath, grabbed her amulet, and its magic poured out. Thick, black fog crawled over her, twisting and coiling, it poured all around, black tentacles covering the grass and climbing over the wall, creating a shifting mantle of shadows expanding for many meters. She couldn’t see anything, but she didn’t need to, the door was right in front of her and the street behind it was straight and short. She kicked the door, it slammed against the stone wall. She walked out, the mass of darkness creeping around her.

She couldn’t see the guards, only hear them scream, flailing their weapons in panic as the darkness engulfed them, taking the shape of tentacles wrapping around them, ink-black insects crawling inside their armour and. faceless abominations swamping them. Despite being just as blind as them, she could tell where they were from the noise, so she just walked between them, while they kept wailing in terror.

As she left, the shadows followed her, leaving only a group of traumatized guard shivering on the ground behind. Surprisingly, one of them was still standing: he looked like to be the captain, his face a strange mixture of fear and rage, still as red as a tomato for all the screaming.

But it didn’t matter. She grabbed the necklace again and the darkness dissolved, leaving to trace. She walked away, a group of worried guards rushed past her towards the alleyway, and she could hear more voices from the opposite direction. Yelena went home, reminiscing about the days of her youth. Maybe Rot did try to screw her over, but she didn’t mind too much, she had almost killed him twice in the past, so she concluded that made them more or less even. Despite the pain in her stomach, she was feeling generous, a good day of honest work always put her in a good mood.

The merchant

It had stopped raining, and the first rays of dawn were reflecting in the puddles between the road stones when Popali opened his eyes. An annoying blade of light was cutting through the red, heavy velvet curtains.

He was a rich person, he had worked hard to become one, and he expected something in return for his effort. One of those things was good sleep, and yet, that night, his wish had been defied. The merchant slowly got out of bed.

One after the other, all night long, the annoyances seemed to never end: first he had been informed his latest shipment was late, a hundred crates of exotic seeds he had paid a fortune for, had disappeared somewhere on the road. Then, in the middle of the night, some weird beasts started making a hellish commotion right in front of his house, a loud croaking that ruined his sleep. Then people had started screaming around his garden and some guards had burst in his room talking about some smoke monster intruding in the villa, so he sent for his butler, and he had disappeared.

All of that combined with the multiple thieves that had broken into the home in the last few weeks and the upcoming council elections, the stress was really starting to get to him.

Popali had tried to go back to bed, but despite his best efforts he couldn’t fall asleep again, he just spent hours listening to the rain against his window, and now it was morning. Was the sun conspiring to keep him awake as well? Would his well-deserved rest never come? He rung a small brass bell on his nightstand, nothing happened. Right, the butler was gone. Ridiculous. Who had ever heard of a butler disappearing in the dead of night? Such things had never happened with the previous one, but he was old and had to retire just the year before; the new butler, well it was already time to find a newer one, Popali concluded.

He went to the bathroom to prepare himself for the day. Popali was an aasimar, a mortal with celestial blood in his veins, carrying a trace of heaven in his flesh, blessed, superior and beautiful, destined to greatness. Such a body needed great care, to keep its lustre. Then again, even if he hated admitting it, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. His once toned body was starting to put on some fat, he especially disliked how his face was becoming less and less sharp, round and flaccid. His hair, while still long and flowing, wasn’t as white as the pure snow anymore, now more of a light grey, perhaps like the moon, or a swift owl in the night.

Popali kept readying himself while thinking of other wonderful things his hair looked like, and in no more than an hour he was ready for his work. His nightgown replaced with a long, white silk robe tied by a belt of unicorn hair. Or perhaps it was kirin mane? Or… Popali couldn’t quite remember, but he was very proud of it nonetheless. Under his robes, he wore a red shirt woven in wool and magical protections, and under that a necklace holding three metallic keys.

He moved down to the main hall of his villa, and was displeased to find it full of confusion: various members of his personal guards and the Bridge Watch were there, arguing, dragging their muddy boots over his floor mosaics, his servants were running back and forth in a tizzy, and some unknown man in a black cloak was sitting in a chair in the opposite corner, observing the chaos. Even worse, because of the recent rain, everybody was dragging mud all over his precious ivory-white mosaics. Popali clapped his hands to get everybody’s attention.

“Gentlemen, please, let’s act live civilized people. What is this mess?”

The first to reply was the Bridge Watch captain, a large man, red in the face and always very loud. Popali was pretty sure he was the culprit of most of the yelling, last night.

“Mister Popali, I hope you have already heard what happened? We need to put an end to this nonsense right now.”

“All I’ve heard was a zoo under by window, then your men shouting in the middle of the night, do you have a justification for that? I pay taxes because I expect people like you to do your job, captain, and I must say, I have been very disappointed in that regard.” The captain became even redder, but kept his composure.

“I am just as disappointed, mister Popali, but we aren’t facing lowly thieves. Firstly, a number of bullfrogs, dreadful beasts, they should be banned from the Bridge I believe, they got in a rampage right in front of the house, and my men were forced to intervene, or there could have been victims. But it was no accident, I’m convinced someone provoked the beasts, angered them intentionally.” The captain had a bad habit of gesticulating a lot, getting closer to Popali than what he was comfortable with. “Am I wrong in assuming your men should be able to handle a few oversized frogs, captain?” asked Popali.

“Of course not, Of course not. The situation was under control but-”

“I truly doubt that.”

“It was under control, eventually, all guards were sent back to their places, but as I was patrolling, some fiend left the house.”

“A fiend?”

“I assure you, a most horrible thing. It opened a door on the side of the garden, we had men guarding it but the creature was an abomination, black as the night, engulfing the entire alleyway, incorporeal. We could do nothing to stop it.”

“Any victim?”

“None.”

“Except my butler, apparently. The fool disappeared during the night, perhaps nabbed your spooky fog, what do you think?”

“I really wouldn’t know, mister Popali.” Before the aasimar could reply, someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned, surprised, and right behind him was the man in the black cloak, staring at him with a blank expression.

“How did you… weren’t you sitting all the way over there?”

“What can you tell us about your butler, Tivalt? Do you suspect he’s involved with the crime?” said the man in the black cloak, ignoring his question.

Popali took a good look at him: he was a human, pale and tall, very thin. From up close, he noticed his ankle-long cloak was tattered and full of holes, and on his head a black tricorne, just as battered. All in all, the man gave out a terrible impression, but he had a smell unlike a vagrant, it was faint, but it was there. Blood and magic. Popali was about to call his guards when the captain spoke.

“This gentleman is mister Flint, an investigator, he will be working with us for a while, I think it’s the first time you meet him.”

The cloaked man lazily bowed to Popali, almost mocking him.

“Well, this seems very unorthodox, very inappropriate, but, mh, I suppose It will have to do. You asked about my butler, yes? He’s worked for me for a short time, a year or so. Replaced my previous butler, a much better one I have to say.”

“Did he ever do anything criminal?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did he ever steal from you? Embezzling? Joined a cult?”

“What? No, none of that. He was a tranquil person, very precise, seemed to care about doing things the right way, at the very least.”

“I see, let’s assume he was kidnapped then, anyone could have reasons to? Enemies? Rival cultists? Is he from a rich family? ”

“The opposite. His father was a criminal but died before he could pay his debt to society, so it passed to the son.”

“A slave, I see, then-”

“Please, don’t use that term, slavery is very much a crime, this is all perfectly legal, he’s simply paying for the crimes his family did, if you have problems you can blame them, you can hardly blame me for putting a wrong right.”

Popali was getting heated, it was clear he wasn’t used to being questioned so disrespectfully, and the slavery topic always annoyed him.

Slavery was wrong, he was a good person, well above such crimes. He was just working in the system, and maybe sometimes taking advantage of it, but nothing as unseemly as slavery. He simply had servants, some of them with less freedom than others, as the law intended.

He continued “His father was a barbarian, from the jungle, arrested years ago when trying to steal from a caravan. He was brought to the Bridge to pay for his crimes through hard labour, but got sick and died shortly after. He had a small kid with him, and as the law states, once alone the kid was raised on Council money, taxpayers money, and now has to work, to repay all that we spent for him. He should be thankful they didn’t just throw him back down to join the rabble he came from.”

Flint stoic expression didn’t change, he didn’t seem bothered by the topic.

“Could have run away, looking for freedom.”

“I doubt it, he seemed smart enough to recognize how awful the mud down there is, he had that much good taste, at the very least. Wouldn’t have hired him without some sort of redeeming quality.”

“Why did you hire him anyway? What qualifications did he have?”

“Obviously I… uhm… well I can’t have time to remember every detail of my servants’ life, now can I? He was vetted and judged apt for the job, surely.”

Popali just realized he couldn’t quite remember when or how the butler had been hired, this confused it for a moment, but he rapidly concluded he had been picked by some other servant.

“Very well, let me just ask you one more question and I’ll be on my way: is your daughter, Pari, in town?”

Popali took a few seconds to understand the question. Why was he asking about his daughter? Was she in town? Was she involved? What a bizarre question. “I suppose she is, yes, I think so. I couldn’t tell you where she’s staying but somewhere she is, I think so at least. I hardly keep track of her.”

The investigator nodded, thanked him and walked away. Apparently, for him, that was the end of it.

Popali had no idea what to make of that, nothing in that conversation had made any sense and, as far as he could tell, nobody had any idea what was happening.

He ordered the captain to leave, saying he needed some rest, sent some servant to clean the mess done by the guards and went back to his room. His bedroom was a very nice wood-panelled room, all the furniture was richly decorated, covered in detailed bas-reliefs and golden ornaments. The only thing out of place was a metallic door in a corner, rather plain compared to everything else in the house.

The door had three locks that he opened with the three keys he carried on his necklace. It had been years since the last time he did so, and the door creaked open very loudly. The air in the room hummed and waved, for the many magical protections surrounding it.

Behind the door was a room unlike any other in the villa, that almost nobody but him had ever seen: it was cubical, with no windows, and made of heavy stone, entirely plain from floor to ceiling. In the middle a

dozen crystal cases filled with items. Weapons, armours, helmets, amulets, some richly decorated, others covered in runes, others again cracked and battered. Some of the items he had collected during his youth, magical items, artefacts of great power, each one worth a small fortune.

Popali grabbed a small wooden stool from a corner and sat down in front of an armour displayed right in the middle of the room. Every dent, every scratch, it still had a few specks of blood. He knew every inch of it, for that was once his armour.

Tailor-made for him by a blind giant blacksmith in a forgotten hold in a far-away swamp, this armour had saved his life many times, and witnessed many great deeds when he still was an adventurer. But a long time had passed, and those days were behind him. One day, he recognized an opportunity to make easy money in the Bridge market, thanks to some connections he had made in his journeys that allowed him to get a lot of materials for good prices and sell them here.

Fruits and vegetables that weren’t known on the Bridge were what had made him famous, he was the first to bring onions to the Bridge and had exploded in popularity, but he had many other sources of income. Not all of them famous, not all of them legal,

His travelling life had become a burden, so he had settled down. Wealth came, then power, lard, influence, a family. Before he knew it, decades had passed. Business and kids devour your free time like few things.

And the years kept going by, his wife died, his kids grew up and moved away, searching their own fortune, and he was left alone, managing his wealth. Alone with his memories.

Many were surprised that his kids had just left, taking only a small part of his wealth, and thinking about it, it was strange. Shouldn’t they have stayed to inherit the business? What was gonna happen to it when he died?

He rarely thought about those things, perhaps some of his adventurer mentality was still with him. Sending his kids to find their own path just seemed obvious, at the time.

And now he was there, alone in a dusty room, looking at old memorabilia, daydreaming about his past because he had no idea what else to do. His old self would have kicked him in the ass if he had seen him like this. And yet, he felt like something had started moving in his brain. Old gears, unused for years, spinning awkwardly once more. A strange line of thought, something birthed from the questions of that investigator.

Why did he ask about Pari? She’s in town, but we don’t really see each other. But why? Is our relation bad? No, it would be better to say we don’t have one. I have no connection with my daughter, just like I never had one with my parents. Adventurers from youth, both of us. Or is she? What if Pari isn’t? What if she wanted to be part of my business? Doesn’t everybody like money?

Wouldn’t it be reasonable on her part? But she has never mentioned it. Not once.

wasn’r that strange? Not even an attempt? Popali was blessed, angelic. He had always considered his life as a given, part of his destiny. He was born and bred into it. Was Pari the same? If she wasn’t, what was the alternative?

A deeply unpleasant thought was creeping in his brain. Maybe he had avoided it for all these years because it was too unpleasant, or maybe he was just really stupid. Does my daughter want to replace me?

Is she was, how would she do it? Could this whole mess be part of it? If the intruders had come not to steal, but to look for his vault… Almost nobody knew about it, Pari knew it existed, he had told her the stories when she was a baby, but not where it was.

He had it seen happen many times to his colleagues, family broken by greed, brothers fighting each other for an inheritance, death and treachery. He had never been too involved with those things, he was a man of action, not some back-alley backstabber. His trades were solid, and even when they were illegal, they were safe, based around trusted friends and old companions.

He always thought of himself as above all the cutthroat scheming and the town politics, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had been in the middle of it all along, and he was just pretending to not see it.

He realized there were too many things he didn’t know. He got up and left the small room, closing the heavy door behind him. The metal slammed, and the crackling of the protective magic disappeared. He opened the window, and took a look at the Bridge under him, breathing in deeply. Dirt, sweat and chimney smoke meshed in the cold morning air. He had lived there for many years but had never taken too much interest in it. He gazed at the sea of roofs, red, brown, black, some made of woods, stone or shingles, others covered in green plants or colourful flowers, all stacked against each other in a patchwork of shapes and sizes. And beyond it, a sheet of cloud hiding the great jungle.

Maybe it was time to take an interest in all of that, and really become part of the bridge. He went back in the entrance, where now only a couple of domestics were left, tidying it up. He sent to call for all his available servants, some of them he had barely ever seen before, and interrogated them on the butler.

He realized he didn’t even know his name. After a year, he had always called him “butler”. Apparently, he was called Tivalt. He interrogated them about the break-ins, the Bridge Watch and the investigator. He asked many questions, and in the end, reached the realization that they barely knew more than him.

There had been some break-ins, but they had stolen very little. A few paintings and candelabra. The investigator had been asking questions around, but nothing specific and didn’t seem to have much of a lead. The guards had been snooping around, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Nobody had seen Pari in months, but they confirmed one thing: she was the one that made them hire Tivalt, vouching for him around a year before. Nobody was quite sure why.

He sent a few servants to find out where his daughter was staying, with the order of inviting her to a meeting with him, then he sent others to look for Tivalt origins, to find out what they could about his early life, and two more he ordered to prepare a mantle and a carriage for him. He was gonna visit that investigator personally.

He had every appointment for the week cancelled, the servants argued that tomorrow Sister Alexandra, the new bishop from the sun church, was to come for a tea, and Popali made it very clear that any guest that complained was to be told to jump from the bridge and die. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but he knew he had money, time and energy to spend, and for the first time in years, he was gonna get to the bottom of things, whatever they were.

The slave

Tivalt took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The orchid plant that had just arrived was destroyed.

The intruders that had broken in the villa the night before had made a mess in the garden, broken a window, vandalized a table, stolen two paintings and, between all else, run over the orchid.

It was a beautiful orchid, or so Tivalt thought, with snow-white flowers shaped like a bird in flight. It had taken a lot of money and care to bring it to the villa, and it would have been really hard to find a replacement, rare plants like it had to be imported from distant lands and could take months to get a hold of another one if everything went right.

His day was ruined, and it would have been even worse once Popali had known about it. Most reverend Sister Alexandra was expected in but a few days and the flower would have made a good topic of conversation over a cup of aromatic tea. With the upcoming elections, it was imperative to make a good impression on her.

He turned towards the gardeners, nervously awaiting behind him.

“If the flower can be salvaged, move it to a corner of the garden, if not remove it. I don’t want to see this mess any longer. We’ll replace it with a…. a bed of dahlias. Orange ones. Have it done before midnight. The lady ought to appreciate them, I believe. And –try- to do a good job.”

Hoping the crisis was averted, Tivalt went back inside the villa, after the recent break-ins he had asked the servitude to check for weaknesses in the security and they had found an unhinged door in the roof, it was imperative to have it fixed and he intended to check on it as soon as possible.

He was still wiping the dirt from his slippers when he saw a kitchen boy rushing towards him.

“Mister Tivalt, sir. A moment.”

The boy was a young gnome wearing a greasy apron over dirty rags; Tivalt never liked gnomes, lazy and often criminals, and never liked the kitchen staff, always dirty and smelly, but luckily for him he rarely had to interact with them, he had subordinates to deal with such trivialities.

But a butler could never afford to show such unsightly emotions, and he kept his composure.

“What is it, boy?”

“There is a woman, down at the back entrance, said to call you real fast.”

“What does this mean? Was there some problem?”

“Problems? No, I mean I don’t think so, wasn’t told none, just to go call Mister Tivalt, and so I did. I’m to be back in the kitchen, excuse me sir. ”

Before Tivalt could say a thing the gnome was gone. Gnomes, so disrespectful. The young ones were the worse. In any case, something was going on at the “back entrance”, an underground passage that connected with the bridge internal structure and gave access directly to the villa cellar, kitchen and storage rooms.

The bridge was quite thick, and inside it housed a web of passages, channels and roads intersecting at different heights and angles. Some were sewers, but many others were just “underground” tunnels connecting different buildings, some of them as old as the bridge itself and many others built by its inhabitants over the centuries.

A crafty person that knew their way around the bridge interior could get pretty much anywhere without ever seeing the sky, and plenty of criminals made use of it. It also was a repair for homeless people, bums and vampires, thousands of houses had been built there; some were little more than tents or shacks but others had been carved in the bridge structure and formed entire districts.

It was less dangerous than living below the bridge, in the hanging houses, but a lot smellier and cramped, and it still had its fair share of dangers: strange creatures roamed the sewers, gangs controlled much of the best parts and other, unseen horrors crawled through the shadows.

Still, the villa back entrance was nothing so unsightly: there were a few major passages in the bridge underbelly that were so large they had been turned into official streets used regularly by people, with guards patrolling them and stores on the sides. It was called the Snake Road because it went through the entire circumference of the bridge like a large ring, but instead of being straight like the way above it, it was full of twists, bends and narrowings and bridges going over the foul sewer canals. That road went very close to the villa storage.

The road above, the Ring Road, was more efficient and clean, but caravans that used it had to pay higher taxes and tariffs, the Snake Road was a cheaper and less pleasant choice for those short on cash or that had something to hide. Security was notoriously lax down there.

He hoped whatever had happened didn’t involve anything so nasty.

When he arrived in the basement, surprisingly, nothing seemed wrong.

The heavy wooden doors that connected with Snake Road were open, allowing inside a cart full of wares that were being unloaded by the servitude. Two well-dressed men, probably the sellers, were observing the process and discussing with the chef for their payment. Everything appeared in order.

As he made his way towards them, he noticed one other person: behind the cart was a woman, dressed in a simple, worn-down white cloak with a wide-brimmed hat covering most of her face.

There was nothing peculiar about her, in fact, it was almost hard to notice, she seemed to blend into the background as if your eyes just didn’t want to focus on her. But Tivalt had recognized her, he had caught just a glimpse of her eyes, those pearl-white eyes, that regal bearing, so different from the common rabble. There was no doubt, it was the woman that had saved him, that had given him such a prestigious and respected position, Pari, mister Popali’s daughter.

In many ways, she was similar to her father at a young age, the same sharp features, white hairs, secure posture, but she always had a different air to her, never quite as secure or confident.

She was the one that called him? But why the secrecy, why dress as a commoner? He walked towards her trying to appear calm, but he knew it would be impossible to hide his confusion.

“Anything wrong, sir?” asked the chef as he passed by him.

“It’s fine, ignore us, just some details to discuss.”

He walked behind the cart, where Pari was standing, just out of view. He tried to talk with her keeping his tone low, to not be heard.

“My lady, what does this mean? How-” She interrupted him. “There is no time now, I have a job for you. A mission, very important.”

“I… of course, anything.”

“Tonight someone will be in the garden, you have to meet them at the ogre fountain, receive a package and bring it to someone else on the Bridge.”

“I don’t know what to say, I have so many questions.”

“And they will have to wait, I’m sorry but you must trust me. All of this was organized in a hurry, it’s a bit messy.”

“I trust you, I do, whatever you ask.” He replied nervously.

“The package, you will bring it to an old woman in Trollgrove street, Old Jeva, she’ll tell you what to do next. Just follow her. Don’t mention this to anyone, not even dad, he knows already.”

“Trollgrove? But that’s… I could never, that kind of place, me?”

“Very well, It’s decided then. It was a pleasure dealing with you mister. May the Travelling Gods protect you.” She replied, loudly.

Clearly, she had decided the deal was done and wanted the others to know as well. The two merchants, understanding that it was time to leave, started to pack up their few things.

Unable to say anything more without drawing attention, Tivalt left, confused.

Trollgrove Street was a web of narrow alleyways around one circular court, lower than the roads around it, connected to the bridge interior. A tall tree grew there, older than anyone could count, and legends say a long time ago a family of trolls lived under it, sleeping in its shade, until they were murdered by an angry mob, for some reason Tivalt couldn’t quite recall, leaving the place haunted by their ghosts.

Regardless of its history, now the area was a rundown dump, its houses crumbling and dirty, with dozens of homeless people living in the streets, almost forming a permanent camp. Some said they also helped criminals and smugglers that often passed through there.

Tivalt had very little knowledge of the place, and he would have been more than happy to live the rest of his life without ever knowing more. The idea of going there was simply preposterous. Ridiculous. And besides, he had so much work to do, not to mention the dangers, and what if someone had recognized him? The rumours would have brought neverending shame to his master

There was no way. None. But Lady Pari had asked, so he would go.

Tivalt gave a few orders to the servants so they would have something to do for the day, then retired to his room.

It was a small room, little furniture and a mediocre bed, but compared to his youth at the orphanage, it was a mansion. He would always be grateful to lady Pari for allowing him this opportunity, but that didn’t make the job any more pleasant.

He spent the day lying on his bed, looking at the ceiling, lost in thoughts. It was rare for him to waste so much time, so nobody came looking for him: all the servants assumed he was somewhere else, working.

Night came, and he wasn’t ready. He walked out in the garden, walking through the hedges and flowerbeds. He noticed a bed of camellias was looking a bit dried, he made a mental note to have it checked in the morning.

He arrived at the ogre statue, the only sounds were the water droplets ticking on the marble stone and the wind blowing through the leaves.

He sat on the fountain edge, but after a few minutes he started to get cold, a few water drops were hitting him. Tivalt went back inside and covered himself in a thick mantle. The weather was getting bad, he hoped he could be back home before it started raining.

A few hours passed, uneventfully. The bells tolled once. A few guards passed by but paid him no mind. The bells tolled twice. Tivalt was getting restless. Did he do something wrong? The bells tolled three times. Wrong place? Wrong time? Maybe he had messed up, he never messed up, he-

A loud croaking came from the street, a terrible noise, he heard a commotion, people screamings, and some guards rushing towards it. All of a sudden, the guard was almost empty.

“Hey” A female voice called him out from the garden.

Tivalt jumped up, startled. He hadn’t heard anyone getting close. On the opposite side of the fountain was someone covered head to toe in a black cloak, from the voice a woman, and from the size a gnome, or dwarf, or maybe a goblin. Impossible to tell.

The woman in black asked “What’s the code?”

Tivalt felt his heart drop “Code? I don’t…. Nobody told me about a code, I-”

“Ah, I’m just fucking with you, here is the package” She replied, and placed a small, rectangular object at the opposite end of the fountain.

Tivalt went and picked it up, hesitantly. It was small enough to hold it in one hand but surprisingly heavy.

“Uh, what is this anyway?”

The stranger didn’t reply and left, ignoring him. Tivalt called out to her but she had disappeared between the hedges.

The mysterious item was in his hand, he considered opening it, but after a bit of thinking, he decided there was no reason to. Whatever was inside could get damaged if it started raining. He placed it in a pocket inside the cloak and took a deep breath. It would take a while to reach Trollgrove Street, and he wanted to waste as little time as possible.

The Ring Road was busy as usual, despite being night. Merchants with their wares travelling through the Bridge, street stalls selling all sorts of things to them, from food to tools to repairs to services; beggars and mercenaries, fortune tellers and moneychangers, street urchins and street artists. The smell from the food stalls mixed with that of the pack animals, their calls with the chattering of the crowd, the cries of the swindlers and the call of the prostitutes.

If nothing else, it was well illuminated.

Tivalt walked for a couple of hours, trying to not attract attention. He felt eyes following his every step, he felt people looking at him, talking about him. Laughing at him. Did they know? Were they gonna attack him? He had spent almost all of his life in an orphanage, the state taking care of him after his criminal parents had died, and from there he had gone almost directly to Popali’s villa; he had no experience with the streets, crowds made him uncomfortable, hiding criminals and dangers at every corner.

In truth, nobody was paying attention to him: an army was passing through the Bridge, towards the harbours where they would embark for some distant land to fight some distant war. Knights in swan-shaped helmets rode at the helm of legions of soldiers in shining armours, waving at the crowd, their white banners fluttering in the breeze. Tivalt barely noticed it.

At the very least, he was fairly sure he could find the right place easily, the Bridge provides and it would lead him wherever he had to go.

It was still the dead of night when Tivalt entered Trollgrove alley. The streets, suffocated between tall, rickety houses, sprawled all around in a labyrinth, the place was one of the worst in town, as far as he knew; at least above the Bridge.

He walked around for a bit, unsure where the go, there were many ways but they all seemed the same to him: dirty walls and boarded windows overlooking rag-covered creatures sleeping in the middle of the road, tents, campfires and human wastes flowing through the drainage channels.

After a bit of wandering, an old, hunched man approached him and signalled Tivalt to follow him, without saying a word. Turned a few corners, the two arrived in a relatively large opening, a more or less circular plaza with a large tree growing right in the middle, connected to seven different streets. The middle of Trollgrove.

The concentration of people here seemed higher than elsewhere, and looking better Tivalt noticed they were crowding around a kitchen of some kind: right under the tree, a group of people was cooking a large cauldron full of soup, surrounded by tables, and selling the food to the people around them.

From what Tivalt could see, there wasn’t a lot of money going around, it must have been some sort of charity, even if he couldn’t see the symbol of any church or organization. The smell was surprisingly good there, and while poor the food didn’t look bad.

Suddenly, the crowd parted and a small, elderly woman with a big smile appeared right in front of him. “Hello, young elf, I am Jeva Cook, or so they call me. Lovely meeting you, I hope your trip was safe?”

“Yes, yes, I didn’t have any problem. I was told to give you a-”

“Shush, kid. Private matters, better kept for other ears.”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Of course. But could you at least tell me what’s going on? I’m a bit… inexperienced with this kind of thing.”

“Why it’s very simple, child” The old woman seemed strangely cheerful, as she carried Tivalt away from the crowd and into one of the alleys, almost dragging him. Despite being so short, she walked faster than him.

“Some people, in this bridge, well this is a place of business, as you know, this is just that, nothing more.”

“What kind of business?”

“All sorts: elections coming up, feuds between clans boiling up to the surface, weird things crawl through the shadows and even weirder through folks minds. So much coming up, sooner or later gotta come crashing down, eh? Many people, many interests, me, you, right in there.”

Tivalt had no idea what she was saying, so he just nodded and kept walking. Ravings of a lunatic old woman.

“Shut now boy, here we are.”



He couldn’t say where exactly they were, somewhere in Trollgrove still, they hadn’t walked for long but the place was a labyrinth. In front of them was an anonymous house, three floors, cramped between other houses. All windows boarded shut.

The only other creatures around were a couple of goblins in rags, sleeping, leaning one against the other, under a busted doorway. The poor creatures were really thin, their skin pulled around the bones on their face, cracked and worn. They must have been starving.

Tivalt hoped he wouldn’t have to spend any more time in such an awful place.

Jeva knocked, and the door creaked open. She exchanged a few words with someone Tivalt couldn’t see, then the door closed again.

A few minutes passed, Tivalt didn’t like all that secrecy, it made him feel like a criminal. This was the kind of thing he’d ever seen only in books and plays, not something the butler of a respectable merchant should be involved with.

Finally, the door opened. Inside Tivalt couldn’t see anything, it was completely dark, then it moved. In front of the door was a creature wearing a robe, completely black from neck to toe, and where it should have a head it had two, two birds heads, crow heads, jet black feathers.

The two-headed bird person had tiny, beady eyes, similar to black pearls, cold and emotionless, it was hard to tell where it was looking, the heads pointed in different directions. Something in it made Tivalt very uncomfortable, he could feel his skin crawling, breathing felt heavy, difficult. Jeva kneeled down in front of the creature, it spread its arms wide and spoke, with a surprisingly warm and deep voice.

“Welcome, visitors. It is my pleasure to welcome you in this home of mine. Please, do come in.”

The three walked inside, through a long and narrow corridor. The place was a lot more luxurious than what Tivalt expected: soft red carpets covered the floors, richly decorated with animal and floral l patterns, golden chandelier hung from the ceiling. There were many doors on the corridor sides, but no windows. Despite that, the air was surprisingly pleasant, almost fresh. In some ways, it felt better than the air on the Bridge, and Tivalt could even hear soothing music in the distance, flutes and strings.

As they were walking, he noticed a strange noise coming from one of the doors, a soft rasping, something scraping on stone. The door was made of wood, with a small barred window that allowed him to look inside. It looked almost like a prison door.

Tivalt peeked through the window, then something slammed against the door. He jumped back with a scream, a long claw had come through the window bars, stopping a few inches from his face. After a few seconds of moving and twisting around like an animal looking for prey, the claw went back inside. The door and the bars were now bent outward, almost broken.

Tivalt felt his heart beating like crazy, had he almost died? What was that thing? He turned, and the birdman was looking at him, its expression still indecipherable.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I didn’t know” mumbled Tivalt.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Feel free to look inside if you want.” replied the birdman, he seemed surprisingly calm, almost joyful.

“isn’t that dangerous?” asked Tivalt, confused

“Oh, yes. You would probably die.” Replied the birdman, then it turned around and kept walking.

Tivalt stood there with his mouth hanging, having no idea how to reply until Yena pushed him from behind.

The corridor ended in a very large room full of plants and flowers. The place almost looked like a party, a few dozen people were sitting around, chatting, laughing, eating from a table covered in luxurious food and drinks, and playing instruments; the music Tivalt had heard came from a very beautiful elf woman gently playing the harp, with two white-furred satyrs at her side playing flutes.

Satyrs? It was rare to see them on the Bridge, usually, they kept to the jungle, as far as Tivalt knew. Looking better, he noticed that wasn’t the only strange race present: one of the men looked like a vampire, pale, emaciated and with blood-red eyes, but he wore expensive clothes and jewellery, rare for his kind, and seemed to be having a great time. Tivalt also saw a few goblins, some reptilian creatures covered in colourful feathers and, sitting alone in a corner, a purple-skinned, squid-faced individual was staring in the void, apparently in a daze.

The room was tall enough to even contain a few trees, and he noticed between the many plants and flowers, some were very rare exemplars. Some didn’t even seem from this plane.

“This garden is incredible,” he said in awe “There are plants I’ve never even seen”

“Why, that’s a pleasure to hear” replied the birdman, “Would you like some to transplant in your garden?”

“That would be fantastic, do you mean it?”

“No. Now hand over the package.”

“Oh, uhm… alright. About that, could I ask a few questions? I was-”

The birdman grabbed his mouth and started moving his face looking at it from different angles. None of the other people present seemed to pay them any attention.

“Sir? What are you doing?” asked an uncomfortable Tivalt.

“You are what I most care about, kid. The package is, let’s say collateral. The resemblance isn’t much, but it’s there I suppose.”

“Me? Why sir? I’m but a butler, what could anyone want from me?“

“You know who your father was, kid?”

“My father? A criminal, that’s all I know. Died years ago.”

“A criminal indeed, more than you think. Pari did me a solid finding you. But there will be time for that later, now give me the item and-”



A crash disturbed the peace of the room, from a wall, high up, a hole in the wall had appeared, then a beastly scream, and then everybody saw a blade piercing through the wall, creating another hole, a flash of light, a third stab, then a fourth.

The birdman screamed at the top of his lungs “We’re attacked, run! Panic! We will all die!” Then threw himself against a door, crashing through it.

In a blink the room was mayhem: the feathered reptiles screaming, running in circles, the satyrs cowering inside a shrub, others slammed a door open and run outside, the elf lady screeched, threw her harp on the ground, smashing it, then run towards the wall and started climbing it with her bare hands, a bloodthirsty expression had twisted her face to look more like an animal. The vampire was the only one that seemed to have kept his composure, chuckling to himself, and he spoke to an extremely confused Tivalt.

“Listen, kid, you can call me The Black Sun by the way, can I call you kid?kid, don’t judge them, people here are strange, the crowman, that’s our boss” he pointed at the door the birdman had rammed through “he’s a weird guy, he’s not all there with his bird heads, but he’s usually better than this. Can be very competent, when his brains work right. He’s done a lot. Everybody else is a bit… jumpy, as you saw. Difficult time, lotsa pressure. New inquisitor in town, you see. If she and the Bridge Watch get us, well. You can imagine.”

“I understand, I suppose.” Lied Tivalt “But what should I do now?”

“The package you have, keep it, you’ll carry it. If this place has been found out by our enemies, nobody else is gonna have time to do it. Jeva will guide you.”

“Uh, this isn’t what I was tasked to do, I have many things to do back at the villa.”

“We will kill you if you don’t, so go now. Hush.”

“Can’t you carry it? You seem very relaxed” Tivalt was starting to get impatient.

“I could. I don’t feel like, that’s the issue.” Replied the vampire, and it went back to the food on the table, only to realize most of it had been thrown to the ground by the rampaging creatures, and a deep disappointment befell him.

“Here, hurry” cried Jeva, then it rushed through another door, barely visible between a tree.

Tivalt was really fed up with this, but he obviously had gotten himself involved with some insane crowd, dangerous people, and he had no intention of getting hurt. At the first occasion, he decided, he would run away.

But what about the package? His lady had ordered him to deliver it, it was important she said. But why was Pari working with such horrible people? Perhaps she had been tricked, or there was some mistake. But the creature had mentioned her name, didn’t he?

Things didn’t add up, and he would have liked to investigate more if things had been less dangerous. But they were, so he decided to prioritize staying alive, questions would have their time eventually.

He followed the old woman through the passage, now she was even faster than before, almost flying.

They were in another corridor, similar to the first, but larger and longer. As they went, some doors started opening around them, hurried people rushed from one to the other, many carrying crates, papers and books, almost all were armed.

A group of spiders passed above them, going in the opposite direction, skittering on the ceiling. They had bags full of papers hanging from their bodies.

One of these rushed towards them, a female warrior