The day had dawned cloudy, with low, motionless clouds covering Alfra like a leaden lid. The light filtering through the mist was weak, lacking strength, unable to cast defined shadows across the stones of the streets. Everything seemed covered in a gray patina—the façades, the roof tiles, the cloaks of passersby, even the banners hanging from the taller buildings, motionless like forgotten pieces of cloth.
Akel walked beside Ian, their boots striking an irregular rhythm against the cobblestones. It had been five days since Almir, Ian, and Alpe had returned from the west, and the camp still carried that pleasant weight of being whole again. But here, within the capital's walls, the world was different. Colder. More calculated.
The street they followed was wide, lined with three-story townhouses whose balconies extended over the road, narrowing the strip of visible sky. The traffic was constant without being chaotic: light carts crossed the intersections, vendors offered warm bread and dried fruit, and groups of soldiers passed with spears resting on their shoulders. No one paid any attention to the two men in dark cloaks with weapons openly displayed.
"This place never changes," Ian remarked, stepping around a wide puddle that reflected the cloudy sky. "The signs change, the nobles spitting from the windows change, but the smell of smoke and rotten fish stays the same."
Akel raised his eyes toward a crooked wooden sign hanging from iron chains.
"You talk as if you hate the city."
"I don't hate it. I just don't trust it."
"In what way?"
Ian nudged a loose stone with the tip of his boot, sending it rolling into the middle of the street.
"Alfra is the kind of place that welcomes you with a smile and stabs you in the back before the second sip of wine. Everything here is a negotiation. Even friendship."
"And yet you came."
"Because the company needs me. And because my father believes this game can be won."
"And you?"
Ian remained silent for a few steps. The cold wind rose from the distant river, carrying moisture and the muffled sound of chains clanking against boats at the docks.
"I think you can survive. Winning is another matter."
Akel did not answer immediately. He let the words settle, as if weighing their meaning. Around them, the city continued at its indifferent pace, and there was something cruel about that normality—people buying bread, arguing over prices, pulling stubborn mules along—while armed men calculated the cost of every alliance.
"Did you know Selena already included me in the hearing?" Akel asked, looking down the street ahead.
Ian turned his head.
"No. But I'm not surprised."
"Why?"
"Because she knows you see what others don't. And because your presence there says something about the company."
"What?"
"That even the red-eyed hunters trust the Levis."
Akel let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"That's politics."
"Everything is politics. Even who you call your brother."
Akel stopped for a moment, his eyes fixed on a narrow alley between two houses. A skinny dog was sniffing at something on the ground, and nothing else moved.
"Do you think this hearing could go wrong?" he asked.
"It could."
"And what will we do if it does?"
Ian rested a hand on the pommel of his sword.
"Then we'll find out what the company is really made of."
They resumed walking.
They turned a corner, and the street widened before a covered market, where a crowd pressed between stalls selling fabrics, spices, and hardware. A man shouted about the quality of his honey; a woman argued with a butcher, waving a dark piece of meat in the air. The smells of cinnamon, tanned leather, and sweat mingled in the still air, dense as the mist.
"Has Selena already told you what she expects from you?" Ian asked.
"She said she wants someone who stays silent when necessary and speaks when needed."
"That's almost a compliment."
"Almost."
"And what do you think?"
Akel stepped aside to avoid a boy running with a bundle of firewood.
"I think she understands better than most what it means to be watched. And she knows I won't fall apart if someone stares at me from across the table."
Ian smiled faintly.
"That's exactly what she said last night. Almost word for word."
"Selena knows me."
"She knows everyone in the camp. It's her job."
"It's more than a job. She pays attention."
Ian fell silent, and Akel knew he noticed the difference as well. Selena wasn't merely the administrator. She was the woman who ran her fingers over the shoulders of an injured mercenary, who left warm bread outside Alpe's tent, who nagged Akel into eating as though he were a stubborn son. There was a ferocity in that woman that did not come from a sword.
"She argued with me before we left," Ian said, as if remembering something.
"About what?"
"She said that if I came back with another cut on my face, she'd stitch me up with forge wire."
"And what did you say?"
"That forge wire was excessive."
"And her?"
"She said the excessive thing was that I was still alive after so much recklessness."
Akel felt the corner of his mouth rise.
"That sounds like affection."
"In her language, it is."
They turned onto a narrower avenue lined with stone houses, dark wooden doors, and barred windows. The traffic was lighter here, and the voices of the crowd faded behind them, muffled by the geometry of the façades. The air smelled of damp stone, fresh paint, and something faintly metallic, like dried blood mixed with soot.
"Tell me about the west," Akel said.
Ian adjusted the strap of his sword over his shoulder.
"An escort contract for a grain merchant who wanted to reach the mills before the rains. Four days on the road, three nights sleeping in barns. No monsters. Just a band of poorly armed raiders trying to steal two sacks of barley."
"What did you do?"
"Killed two. The others ran."
"And Almir?"
"He spent the entire journey complaining that recruits don't know how to hold a sword. Said even the camp goats would have more talent."
"And was he right?"
Ian laughed quietly.
"He was."
They walked in silence for several more minutes. The city closed in around them, the streets narrowing while the buildings grew taller. The sound of hammers came from a nearby workshop, mixed with the distant barking of dogs. Akel felt the air change as they approached the administrative center: cleaner, colder, with less smoke and more of the smell of stone and paint.
"Did you miss this place?" Ian asked.
"Alfra?"
"The company. The camp."
Akel looked at the ground for a moment.
"I did."
Ian nodded, keeping his eyes on the street ahead.
"Then why did you take so long?"
"I needed time."
"For what?"
Akel thought. The words took time to come, as if each one had to be chosen from among the others he preferred to keep buried.
"To find out whether I could still live near you without bringing trouble."
Ian stopped walking.
Akel did too.
They stood in the middle of the pavement as a cart passed slowly by, kicking up dust.
"You don't bring trouble," Ian said, his voice firm. "You are trouble sometimes. But you're also my brother."
Akel held his gaze for a long moment. Then, with the faintest smile barely moving his lips, he replied:
"Are you going to make a speech now?"
Ian snorted and resumed walking.
"Idiot."
"Runs in the family."
"Unfortunately."
The Guild building appeared at the end of the street.
It was a tall structure of dark stone and blackened wood, with a metal crest mounted above the main entrance. The narrow windows spilled yellow light onto the pavement, and a constant stream of adventurers and merchants passed through the double doors, which never seemed to close completely. Two armed guards flanked the entrance, but they did not seem concerned with who entered—only with who stayed too long.
Akel examined the façade carefully, his eyes moving over the beams, hooks, and lights. He had entered guilds in other cities before, but this one carried a different weight. It was the headquarters of a network that connected contracts, information, and people throughout the kingdom.
"This is where Father negotiates some of his contracts," Ian said. "It's also where Elbi registers the official payments."
"Who handles the administration?"
"A manager named Vesar. Dry, but fair. At least that's what they say."
"And what do you think?"
Ian grimaced.
"I think he smiles rarely and charges dearly."
They entered together.
The main hall was spacious, with dark wooden columns and a long counter stretching across almost the entire back wall. Tables were scattered throughout the room, maps pinned to boards, and the air carried the smell of ink, dust, and sealing wax.
Akel noticed the man almost immediately.
He was leaning against a column near the western wall.
He wore a simple dark cloak, the hood pulled up, but not enough to hide the features of his face. His hair was black, much like Akel's, falling across his forehead. His skin was fair, his eyes lowered. He did not seem to be looking for anything. He was simply waiting.
Akel looked away before the other man noticed.
Something tightened in his stomach.
"I'm going to see if Vesar can receive me yet," Ian said, approaching the counter.
Akel nodded.
"I'll be here."
Ian spoke quietly with the attendant, and after a few moments he was led through a side door. Akel remained standing in the middle of the hall, feeling the weight of the cloudy day pressing down on his shoulders. He did not look toward the column again. Instead, he walked to the counter.
The attendant was young, with brown hair tied back with a blue scarf. There was ink on her fingers and a tired but attentive expression on her face.
"Can I help you?" she asked without looking up.
"Perhaps," Akel replied.
She raised her eyes.
"Do you know what you're looking for?"
"Not yet."
The attendant let out a short laugh and shook her head.
"Then you're in the right place. Most people here don't know either."
"And what do they do?"
"They pay to find out."
Akel rested his forearm on the counter, his body relaxed but his senses alert.
"Have you worked here long?"
"Too long."
"And you still haven't gotten used to it?"
"Who said I want to get used to it?"
Akel almost smiled.
"Good answer."
The attendant tilted her head.
"Are you with a company?"
"Levis."
"Oh. The people from the eastern camp."
"You know them?"
"Everyone around here knows them. Rodric Levis doesn't go a week without sending someone to deal with paperwork. The elf who comes here is the most organized."
"Elbi."
"Yes, I think that's her name. She doesn't talk much, but she gets everything right. Unlike half the mercenaries who come through here."
Akel glanced toward the entrance.
The man by the column was gone.
He moved calmly, without haste, but inside, his muscles tightened like springs.
"Would you like to register a contract?" the attendant asked.
"Not yet."
"Then come back when you do. Or when you know what you're looking for."
"I will."
Akel stepped away from the counter and left the Guild.
The street outside was emptier. The mist had thickened, turning the passersby into silhouettes. He looked both ways.
Nothing.
Then he saw it.
A silhouette turning a corner thirty meters to the right.
Akel followed.
The alley was narrow and damp, smelling of urine and rotten wood. The stones beneath his boots were slippery. Tall walls blocked almost all the light, leaving the passage in a bluish gloom.
The man stopped in the middle of the alley, his back turned.
"I knew you'd follow me," he said without turning around.
Akel stopped a few steps away.
"You wanted me to."
"Perhaps."
The man turned slowly.
He was thin-faced, with an angular jaw and black hair falling across his forehead. His skin was fair, though not as pale as Akel's. And his eyes—yellow, intense, with pupils that adjusted to the dimness like those of a predator.
"Long time no see, Noar."
The name fell between them like a stone.
Akel did not move.
"My name isn't Noar anymore."
"I know. But that's the name you had when we met."
Akel kept his eyes fixed on him.
"Urios."
The other man smiled—a crooked, mocking smile without warmth.
"No. Now I'm Clark Thorne."
Silence stretched between them. The wind passed through the alley, dragging a loose piece of canvas along the ground.
"What are you doing in Alfra?" Akel asked.
Clark took a step to the side, resting his shoulder against the wall.
"I could ask you the same thing, Noar."
"Akel."
"Right. Akel. Sounds almost like a real name."
"It is real."
"If you say so."
Clark crossed his arms, the hood still resting around his shoulders. His yellow eyes gleamed in the dimness, calm and amused.
"I heard you were in the area. I didn't believe it until I saw you enter the Guild."
"Who told you?"
"People talk. Hunters talk even more."
"So you still keep in contact with the Order?"
Clark let out a quiet laugh.
"Keep in contact is a strong expression. I listen. From a distance."
"And what have you heard?"
"That something big is moving near the border. And that the Order is sniffing around."
Akel tightened his jaw.
"I know."
"Of course you do. You always knew things before the others. That's what made you insufferable."
"And you always talked too much."
"I still do. But now I choose my words more carefully."
Clark pushed away from the wall and took two slow steps toward Akel.
"Why did you follow me, Noar?"
"To find out if it was you."
Clark stopped an arm's length away.
The two stared at each other.
The tension was not hostile, but neither was it comfortable. It was the kind of tension that existed between two dogs that had once shared the same kennel and now found themselves in neutral territory.
"You've changed," Clark said.
"You're going to say the same thing."
"I know. I think I'm more handsome now."
Akel let out a quiet laugh, almost involuntary.
"Still an idiot."
"And you're still humorless. But you'll get better with time."
They fell silent again. The smell of the alley, the mist, the distant sound of a cart—all of it seemed suspended.
"What do you want, Clark?" Akel asked.
The other man narrowed his eyes.
"Maybe I want to know if the boy I knew is still in there."
"And if he isn't?"
"Then I've wasted my time."
Clark smiled, but something more serious lay beneath the sarcasm.
"Let's get out of this alley. It smells worse than the Order's dormitories."
Akel hesitated.
Then he nodded.
The two walked side by side toward the street.
The sky remained cloudy.
And the past now had a face, a name, and yellow eyes.