Nations of Rothel:

Thespia: The nation of Kiriel, Savior of Minds. Her Mark grants the ability to to touch minds with another, whether for good or ill. All potential additional conduits are related to this ability in some manner. Some Thespians may go their entire life without vocally speaking a word.

I admit that I had been concerned. As someone more accustomed to modern vehicles, 50 miles by mount was a rather nebulous distance. Was it short? Was it far? I had guessed that it was further than I would have assumed, but I forgot one important factor.

My mount was Risen.

Obvious, I know. Still, it might be surprising to see how far an already fast-moving creature can go when it doesn’t have to bother with pesky little things like hunger, thirst, or stamina.

The answer was: pretty damn far.

I skirted the eastern edge of Foxwood Forest, keeping it close at hand as a point of reference. Every 10 miles, I buried another small Unified Risen in order to extend my connection further. It was strange, the constant sensation of being buried by earth, but it was well worth it the added discomfort to gain some form of mobility away from my main body.

A few hours later, I made it to the walls of Dihaim.

And walls, they were.

The gleaming white barricades stretched for miles, beggaring belief. Maybe I was still being affected by my modern sensibilities, but walls were a bit of a strange sight. I was used to urban sprawl, to suburban spread. Not to...this.

Still, the sight was somewhat familiar. It brought me back to my vision of Neladrie, of the city of bone with walls that touched the sky. While these walls were nowhere near that level of magnificence, the construction did seem to be relatively similar.

For a moment, I did a double take. A manic grin crept its way across my face. Nestled in the center of the wall was an open gate, connected to a well-maintained stretch of road that exited the treeline. More importantly, I saw a queue! Of people! Living people!

Standards change. This was exciting, okay?

I dismounted, stepping into place at the back, basking in the mundanity of a simple line. I let out a satisfied breath. This was the life. The line moved with relative haste, or perhaps I was simply lost in thought. Regardless, I soon found myself at the gates themselves.

“Do you have a permit for that?” a stern voice questioned.

I grinned broadly, reveling in true interaction, my eyes wide in their effort to take everything in. “A permit for what?”

The man, who I now saw was clad in some kind of bone-white armor, tightened his grip on the bizarre-looking rod at his side. A many-tusked boar stood beside him at waist height, a set of curved horns spilling upwards from the coarse mane that stretched to its back. Startled, my eyes found themselves locked in place. I wanted one.

“We’re not going to have trouble, are we?”

I smiled wider, remembering to blink this time. It was difficult to remember, sometimes. I didn’t think Markus’ body actually needed to blink anymore, now that I considered it. I would need practice with a lot of things, actually. Even expressions were hard to get quite right, the muscles of Markus’ face not completely identical to what I was accustomed to. I was sure it was pretty close, though.

“Of course not, officer,” I said with a lazy salute. I felt my insides shift, but I quieted them with a stern command.

I was feeling a little silly, I admit. Could you get drunk off of excitement? It must have been possible, with the way I was feeling.

The guard relaxed ever so slightly, removing his hand from the rod, likely charmed by my personable demeanor. “Look, I’ll need to see your permit to let you bring a Risen of that size into the city. It’s just standard procedure. Otherwise, you’ll have to deanimate it or pay the fee for the stables.”

“I don’t have a permit, but can you point me to the stables?” I wasn’t sure how far the money in my packs would go, but I wasn’t keen on getting rid of my mount entirely. I had raised it with my main body’s resources to reduce the strain on Markus, and wasn’t eager to see how much of a dent something of its size put on his relatively tiny reserves should I be required to reanimate it.

The guard pointed towards a long building that rested against the outside wall. Now that I was looking, I could see that a number of people had been streaming in and out before taking their place in the queue to enter the city. I rubbed the back of my head, slightly abashed.

“Do I need a permit for this, too?” I motioned towards the Unified Crow perched upon my shoulder. Honestly, I’d probably just fly over the wall later in the day, but it would be nice to know.

He gave me an odd look. “No, that’ll be fine. It’s well within the size limits. Besides, you lot’d just fly them over the wall, anyway.”

He had me figured out.

I regretfully surrendered my hard-won spot in the front of the queue, leading my mount to the designated location. Surrounded by a waist-high fenced enclosure, the building was a teeming mass of activity. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I missed it.

I squeezed my way past the woman exiting before me, slipping through the fence’s opening with my charge.

After a halfhearted attempt at haggling, I was left one Risen lighter. The clerk manning the building’s front desk had informed me that they kept watch over the area to make sure active Risen are not crippled and abducted for ransom - which was apparently a problem? I had to think that this was one of those things that mattered far less for me than for others. Based on the sheer numbers of Risen that had been left under their care, it likely had some weight. I was beginning to suspect that being Marked wasn’t exactly special; it seemed more the rule than the exception.

The clerk seemed a little uncomfortable during our conversation, but I still chalked it up as a positive interaction. He was probably just a nervous haggler.

The midday sun was beating down in full by the time I finally made it through the gate. I lifted a hand to wipe my brow, making it halfway before remembering that I didn’t actually sweat. I almost wished that I did, just so that I would have something to do with my hands. Because…

“It’s beautiful!” Mel gushed.

Yes. That.

I was out of place, like a country boy visiting the big city for the first time, gawking at every sight. The worst of it was, it wasn’t a particularly big city - not compared to the giant metropolises like Ondoth or Trufeld. Those might have warranted such a reaction. Dihaim was just a small city.

It was just so...different from what I was used to - in more ways than one.

Maybe it was the alien allure that stopped me in my tracks; the streets paved in rough-hewn bone, trod upon by innumerable feet, and the buildings that were clad in the same. The gleaming white temple on the far side of the city that drew the eye from even so great a distance. The creatures that trod alongside the busy populace.

Maybe it was the people themselves; the way they bustled about, the way they filled the city streets. The way they simply lived.

Maybe it was all of those things.

It really was beautiful.

A short stint of being hopelessly lost was followed by the reluctant acceptance that I would need to ask for directions. As it turned out, the city was divided into multiple districts. On the west side, where I had entered the city, was the Low District. It contained the lower-income areas of the city, and was also the most populous of the districts. The buildings were in less pristine condition, the bone walls beginning to show signs of yellowing from age and neglect. At the center of the Low District was the Low Market, which I was interested to explore.

Abutting the southern gate and pressing slightly northward from there was the Barracks District. Unlike the other districts, the moniker was more the unofficial term than anything else; it lacked the cohesive themes of the others, and held most of its recognition due to the presence of Dihaim’s Spectral Guard HQ. It served as a sort of melting pot for the city’s denizens; while it wasn’t high-class enough for many of the wealthier individuals, the safety provided by the proximity of the guardsmen was highly appealing to many. In the same way, citizens seeking to escape the Low District benefited from the lesser property prices at the edge while still enjoying the benefits of being HQ-adjacent.

Ironically, the High District on the east side wasn’t the most affluent area of the city - though it certainly came a close second. Instead, that distinction belonged to the Temple District; the gleaming white temple a prominent example of such. The temple’s existence was a bit of a puzzle for me. I had never been particularly religious, myself, and vaguely recalled belief becoming less and less popular as powers grew more prominent. Belief in the abilities of the self had been much more in vogue. Supposedly, the Temple District held the city’s only hospital as well - which was yet another curiosity, as I wasn’t sure how they were related.

For the moment, I staved off my inclination to slake that particular curiosity. Instead, I decided it would be best to investigate the Low Market; I was in dire need of additional sets of clothing. My current inability to sweat did not prevent other, less human-directed wardrobe malfunctions; the dirt and brambles of the forest undergrowth had managed a number on me during my repeated relay placements.

The Low Market was...more than I expected.

In my head, I had been anticipating something similar to a bazaar - a nearly claustrophobic spread of varying vendors and merchants that plied wares of lower quality or more dubious nature in exchange for lower rates. On some counts, I had been correct. The variety certainly existed, as did the rather chaotic nature of the shopper-infested streets. Yet, the shops and vendors themselves were set up on a rather permanent basis. Nowhere to be found were the rickety stalls and splintered carts of my imagination. Instead, the Low Market consisted of shops in a series of concentric circles that spawned from the intersection of three major streets.

The sidings of the shops that lined the streets were arrayed in colorful banners, each announcing their presence in boisterous fashion. I carefully squeezed past the miniscule gaps between the crowd, soaking it all in.

To the left was a banner that denoted a pet shop, decorated in black pawprints and multicolored wings. Just beyond that, a simple banner was plainly labeled ‘Bone Garden’. Contrary to the understated nature of the advertisement, the storefront itself was decorated in eye-catching fashion.

Thin-twined bone clambered up the walls in an artistic rendition of ivy, bone-white lilac and magnolias bursting forth from little nodes entwined within. Here and there, real flowers dotted the sculptures, drawing the eye with their contrasting colors while making the artistic liberties of the bone flowers even more apparent. Through the window, I could see a wide variety of similarly artistic designs and sculptures - each widely disparate, yet made of the same gleaming white bone.

With the crowd only becoming more difficult to navigate, I focused more of my attention on the Risen Crow that perched upon my shoulder. With a short hop and a fluttering of my wings, I soared above the heads of the densely packed people to get a clearer look. A block or so down, I spotted the telltale picture of a spool of thread emblazoned on an advertising banner.

Adjusting the straps of my pack, I began the difficult task of maneuvering my way over. At the same time, I found a perch on the roof of my destination, my talons gripping the surface with relative ease. A careful inspection showed that my short flight had not dislodged the passengers that clung to my flesh. From my vantage point above the masses, I was able to spot gaps that formed within the crowd, allowing me to chart a path through.

As I entered the shop, I was surprised - though I really shouldn’t have been - at the small inventory offered on hand. Then again, the lack of readily manufactured clothing was just another indication of a lower technology level than I was accustomed - yet another curiosity that I had encountered in a short amount of time. Sooner or later, I would need to find a history book to find out what was going on.

“Welcome, welcome!” A jolly, boisterous man proclaimed in response to my entrance. Despite his heavy-set build, his clothes were fitted nicely; an important finding, as I was much more willing to trust a tailor who displayed their work so prominently. My only previous experiences with tailors had been stressful ordeals involving suits and more money than I had wished, but I had still managed to pick up a few predilections.

The man gave my weathered clothing a pointed look, somehow filled with disapproval without being overtly rude. “Are we looking for repair or purchase, today?”

Something in his tone seemed to suggest that the answer should indisputably be both.

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, a flash of movement was caught in the corner of my crow’s eye. In the moment after, a commotion erupted, a well-dressed man pointing and shouting as a large rodent quickly scurried away with a coin purse held in its mouth. The beast moved with preternatural intelligence, dodging through the crowd with near-perfect timing to throw off its irate pursuer.

The intelligence was...human-like. My eyes gleamed at the thought.

“Sir?”

I turned around, heading back out the door. “Sorry, something just came up! I’ll have to come back later,” I said with a contrite expression. The shop owner stared back in confusion. I shelved the feelings of awkwardness for now.

I was almost certain the thieving rodent was a Risen under the effects of [Unity]. With any luck, following it would lead me right back to the Marked that controlled it. It wasn’t a very glamorous start, but I had always wanted to apprehend a thief.

It’s what heroes did, after all.

I flapped my wings, keeping watch from above while I slipped through the disheveled crowd down below.