Two weeks had already passed since the fateful incident at the church.
During all this time, a dead calm had settled in, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Lucas and I had quietly resumed our usual routine, letting the familiar grind of the slums mask the tension that still lingered within us.
One day, taking advantage of a rare moment of respite, I asked Lucas to show me Malbour inside out.
This was a strategic necessity for me.
Indeed, the more I knew about this city, its alleys, and its secrets, the easier it would be to execute complex plans or, at the very least, navigate my way during a retreat or a pursuit.
Furthermore, this urban exploration allowed me to better grasp the behaviors of the citizens and perhaps even identify the city’s undercurrents—the invisible power dynamics that governed society.
Lucas showed me around with disconcerting ease.
Watching him navigate this urban labyrinth, one would think he had been born in this very city.
Yet, I still had no idea where exactly he had first seen the light of day, though that wasn’t information I desperately needed for the moment.
First things first.
We crossed several districts with radically contrasting atmospheres.
Some sectors were magnificent, flaunting insolent wealth, while others fatally reeked of the misery and danger typical of the city’s darker corners.
I noticed that in some of the working-class neighborhoods, there was an immense diversity of races.
Walking through, you could cross paths with hybrids of all kinds, as well as imposing Asthartes and agile-looking Sprigans.
However, despite this apparent melting pot, certain clearly defined territories were strictly reserved for specific races.
This was notably the case for the “Dominion” district, where one could find almost exclusively Dragonoids.
These direct descendants of dragons formed an extremely proud race, often raised in high nobility and harboring utter contempt for the lower castes.
After this overview of the various districts, we finally reached the port of Malbour.
There, the spectacle was breathtaking: majestic tall ships sliced through the waters using Fantasia to propel themselves, a pure magical energy that spared them from relying on the whims of the wind.
It was fascinating.
Malbour was a fairly technologically advanced city despite its terrible segregation of castes.
The infrastructure was modern, and as long as you possessed a modicum of coin, you could live peacefully and free of want.
This massive clock tower, which stood proudly in the center of the city, had been built to honor the historical signing of the Treaties of Agen.
Lucas explained to me in a serious tone that these agreements meant the city of Malbour would never be threatened by the bloody wars raging between the different kingdoms.
Indeed, Malbour was officially viewed as a neutral zone by all crowns, which was precisely the reason for such a diverse mixture of races within its walls.
After this long and enriching tour, fatigue began to set in, and we decided to head back to the slums.
But no sooner had we arrived in front of our secret hideout than we immediately sensed that something was off: someone was already inside.
Entering cautiously, Lucas instantly greeted the intruder, dropping his defensive posture.
It was a young woman slightly older than us.
She was undeniably a Sprigan, instantly recognizable by her characteristic pointed ears and her long silver hair that shimmered in the gloom.
She wore a tailored guard-like uniform of red and black that commanded respect.
Lucas leaned toward me and whispered with absolute discretion:
“That’s Callis’s secretary.”
The young woman crossed her arms, her expression completely stoic and devoid of emotion.
Her stiff, ceremonial demeanor conveyed an iron discipline as she spoke:
“Hello.
My name is Mélo.
Lord Callis has sent me to fetch both of you.”
Observing her rigid behavior, I wondered how she managed to be the personal secretary of a man as twisted and sadistic as Callis.
Without further delay after this brief introduction, we set off under her guidance.
Leaving the slums, we discovered an arch-flier parked out of sight.
This flying transport, propelled by magic, was spacious enough to carry all three of us without issue.
Once we were settled inside, the craft soared into the air.
Throughout the entire journey, Mélo did nothing but stare at me.
It was a sort of foolish curiosity, the intrusive gaze of a prying child, but I decided to pay it no mind and looked away.
We flew at high altitude, and everything that had seemed so immense and close on the ground suddenly became microscopic to our eyes.
I turned to my companion and asked Lucas in a low voice if he knew exactly where we were heading.
Hearing those words, my curiosity was instantly piqued.
A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine, and I wondered what the secret base of a criminal organization as powerful and feared as this one would look like.
Having reached a certain height, where the clouds began to grow dense, the pilot signaled to Mélo that we had arrived at the transit point.
Hearing this, I wondered what would happen next, as there was nothing but empty void around us.
That was when she rose from her seat and began to recite an incantation in a clear voice:
“Opening of the Third Space.
Dor sil nor, Mélo ar Callis.”
No sooner had these mystical words escaped her lips than I felt a violent rush of air, a magical shockwave blending with the powerful wind already blowing at this altitude.
Looking out the window, I was utterly shell-shocked, genuinely questioning whether what my eyes were seeing was real or an illusion.
The azure sky ahead of us literally began to tear and open up, revealing a vast black expanse, a terrifyingly abyssal void.
It was like a massive gravitational vortex that began to pull the arch-flier with irresistible force.
Suddenly, we were brutally sucked into this black space.
Instinctively, I wanted to close my eyes to protect myself, but I was far too fascinated, intrigued, and hypnotized by this extraordinary phenomenon.
Just after our crashing entry into this dark expanse, it took us a few seconds of total sensory detachment to finally emerge.
And there, a breathtaking sight rose before us: a grand, dark, majestic castle, magically suspended in the middle of the sky.
I understood immediately that we had finally reached our destination—the heart of Eresboros’s headquarters.
The arch-flier touched down smoothly on a landing platform, and we disembarked from the flying vehicle.
We began to advance with firm steps and quickly arrived before the monumental main gates of the fortress.
Stepping inside, I felt an immediate, heavy sense of unease, an oppression in my chest, as if crossing the threshold into an entirely hostile world.
Lucas walked by my side, appearing perfectly calm.
Looking at him, I figured he was simply making immense efforts to hide his internal panic.
Mélo took the lead and approached a marble counter where a cold-eyed receptionist stood.
She whispered something in her ear, then turned back to us, gesturing for us to follow:
“Callis is waiting for you in his office right now.”