(ATTENTION NEW READERS: This novel is under revision or rewrite. The revised novel is renamed "Arsett Gateway" and can be found on neovel.io Read the latest chapter for more information. Everything you read from here on will eventually be replaced when revised chapters are complete, so I recommend going to neovel.io and reading "Arsett Gateway").

The loud creaking of wood echoes throughout the hull and muffled voices are heard from the lower and upper decks of the ship. It is humid, and the smell is abysmal. The waves caused the ship to sway back and forth repeatedly. For over a month at sea, plenty of people have gotten sick and puked out into the water. Some instead couldn't make it to the upper deck and puked from within the lower decks, staining the wood and leaving behind an enduring stench. But no one seems to mind too much. As if it is normal or common, everyone continues doing whatever tasks that need to be done except for one man.

Sitting on an uncomfortable wooden bed is a young man who seems to be daydreaming. His shiny black medium-long hair fell in front of his face, nearly covering his hazel eyes. While others in the ship wear more liberating clothing due to the warm temperatures, this man wears a long black trench coat that stretches down to below his knees. His clean-shaven face turned into stubble throughout the duration of the trip.

“Hey, you! What’s yer name again?” asks a sailor who approached.

“Name’s Ken. What’s going on?” replies the man on the bed.

“We arrived at Efielge, Kingdom of Scorcia. If this is yer destination, grab yer stuff and head up outside.”

The sailor turns and walks away, leaving Ken by himself while the sound of footsteps intensifies from the top deck.

Ken turns around and kneels to reach underneath the bed and drags out a large canvas backpack that had seen better days. Picking up the heavy pack, he swings it over his shoulder, brushes his hair back, and makes his way above deck.

On the deck, many men are walking about in a seemingly chaotic manner. Various crates of cargo are being unloaded onto the docks or loaded onto the ship.

“Took you long enough, Kai.”

Behind Ken is a slightly older man with long, near shoulder-length hair, dark brown eyes, and a short beard. He also wears a dirty dark brown duster coat. He almost looks like a vagabond.

“Matt, where are the others?” Ken says.

“They already left. Why? You need something?”

“Nah, just wondering.”

“All right, anyways we should get going. Our mission begins now. I’ll see you in a few days,” Matt says as he walks off the boat and into a crowd of people.

After waiting around for a few minutes, Ken walks down the ramp connecting the deck and the dock carrying his backpack by the strap over his shoulder. There is a gentle breeze that gives him a breath of fresh air that was nonexistent in the ship’s interior. Birds are chirping, and the harbor is full of activity.

Ken swivels his head around, taking in his surroundings as he takes out a crumpled map from under his coat and opens it. The map is crude and lacks any detail, but it is enough to get a general idea of his location. It is a map of the world which he purchased, for quite a bit of money, from an earlier stop at another city. As he examines the map, he confirms his location: the Kingdom of Scorcia, in the port city of Efielge. He has arrived at his destination; now, his next step is to get settled in. Storing the map back inside his coat, he walks away from the docks and into the crowded city with a firm grip on his backpack.

As he continues to walk, he notices various people in similar gear standing around and simply observing. They were likely the city guards who wear iron or steel cuirass over a dark red gambeson with hunting swords sheathed on their waist. They also wear kettle helmets. An upside-down white ‘Y’ on a red shield with small black rectangles within the ‘Y’ shape is painted on one side of their chest plate. It must be the Kingdom’s heraldry.

The residents wear a mixture of clothes. The workers at the docks seem to wear loose white Bastian shirts with brown or black trousers. Many people wear simple loose and coarse shirts or tunics. Some people seem to have more modern-looking jackets though they seem very worn, torn, and beaten as if they have never been washed before. Some people wear a frock, a rudimentary coat with no detail. The women, as far as he could see, the women wear a combination of blouses, skirts, and dresses.

The city of Efielge, as Ken expected, looks backward. Despite the stone roads being littered with some dirt and trash, the city seems mostly clean and well kept. Though most buildings are more than one story tall, many are built with a mixture of stone and wood. Timber-framed houses are everywhere, and the streets are dense with people.

Occasionally, carriages pulled by horses made their way through, some carrying people as passengers, but most are wagons hauling goods and construction materials.

Being in this environment, Ken feels like he traveled back in time but didn’t know what period exactly. The guards and surrounding architecture look like they were from the middle ages or renaissance.

But he knows that isn’t true. He knows that there are things in this world that are more advanced than would have ever existed in those times. Not to mention the clothing, weapons, and cleanliness are better. Perhaps it’s similar to the early or late modern period, but there are so far no signs of an industrial revolution. It would be difficult to compare any exact period to this place; the range is just too large to pinpoint.

Making his way down the surprisingly clean stone road for roughly half an hour, Ken reached a large open and crowded area. This must be the city square. He could see many people with carts attempting to sell wares at the passing people.

Unknown to him, someone is watching from afar. Thinking that Ken is new to the city, judging by how confused he looked, the stranger approaches Ken from behind.

“Hey there kid, you lost?” says the stranger as he puts his hand on Ken’s shoulder.

Looking over, Ken replies, “I guess you could say that. I’m trying to find a place to stay. Or somewhere where I can learn how to make my way around the city.”

“A place to stay, you say? Today’s yer lucky day then pal, I happen to know a guy who owns an inn,” he says while putting his arm around Ken.

“You do? How convenient. Can you please point me in that direction then? I’ve been traveling for some time, and I would like to rest.” Ken tries to pull away gently.

“You sure talk funny. You ain’t a noble, are ya? Tell you what. I’ll do you one better. I’ll personally show you where it is. Just follow me.”

Seeing no other choice, Ken decides to follow the stranger. He wasn’t lying when he said he needed a place to stay. And he simply couldn’t tell the man ‘no’ because he was interested to see how things would turn out.

Having walked some time already in an unknown direction, Ken follows the stranger who turns to walk into an alley. Walking further into the alley, the stranger turns around to face Ken and takes out a crude dagger from under his trousers. Simultaneously, Ken hears footsteps behind him and notices that another man had followed them into the alley.

“All right kid, you must be really stupid to walk right into our trap,” growls the would-be thief with a more stern facial expression.

Ken, on the other hand, remains indifferent. By no means is he that naive. Though he thought that maybe what the stranger said was legitimate, he also figured that this guy would also try to rob him.

“I’ll only give you one chance kid, hand over that pack and everything else yer carrying. We just might let ya live.”

Of course, Ken had no intention of doing such a thing. Peeking over at the man behind him, it looks like his job is just to stand there and look scary. Adjusting his body, Ken prepares for a fight.

Seeing that Ken didn’t say anything, nor did he drop his stuff, the thief smirks. “You asked for it.”

Confidently lunging himself at Ken with the knife, the thief expects an easy victory. However, Ken unexpectedly turns his back towards the thief as he grabs the hand with the knife and throws the thief over his shoulder. The thief slams on the floor and drops his knife while Ken’s pack slides off his shoulder and falls.

With an angry growl, the thief stands back up. “You brat! You sure have guts!” the thief yells as he then throws a punch as hard as he could at Ken’s face, but again is countered.

Ken dodges left and grabs the thief’s arm with his right hand, the back of the thief’s head with his left hand, and directs the thief’s momentum towards the wall. Smashing his head on the wall, the thief falls to the ground unconscious with blood dripping from his forehead.

Expecting another fight, Ken takes the thief’s knife off the floor and faces the other man. But to his surprise, the man had already run away, and so he relaxes and lets out a sigh as he drops the knife.

“My first day, and someone already tried to mug me,” Ken whispers as he brushes his messy hair back and picks up his pack off the floor.

Swinging his pack over his shoulder and walking out of the alley and back into the busy streets of the city, Ken contemplates what he should do next. Just then, someone nearby calls out to him and approaches him, much to Ken's surprise.

“Good day to you. I see you already met the friendly neighborhood thief,” says the stranger.

Annoyed, Ken replies, “Are you going to try and rob me too?”

“Heavens no,” he says as he raises his hands. “On the contrary, I was going to help you. But then I saw the other guy running out of the alley as if he saw the devil himself. It seems you can fight.”

He then held his arm out at Ken. “My name is Marc Lennings, by the way.”

Seeing that he won’t be immediately threatened again, Ken studies Marc carefully. Both Marc and the thief spoke with an accent he doesn’t recognize. At most, he would generalize it as some sort of mixed British accent. If he could further pinpoint it, it would be close to West Country. At the least, Marc seems wealthier and better groomed than most other people, unlikely that he would try to steal his stuff. He has short dark brown wavy hair. He wears dark formal pants, clean shoes, a waistcoat, and a dark brown frock coat. Rich, maybe. Elite, doubtful. Ken knows high-class fashion should be far more elaborate than what Marc wears.

Ken shakes Marc’s hand. “I’m Ken Kai.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Ken. So what brings you here?”

“What do you mean?” Ken replies.

“Most people who are robbed are generally new to the city. Otherwise, they wouldn’t put themselves in that situation in the first place. They’d know better,” Marc says with a smile.

Ken couldn’t help but take a slight offense but decides to simply ignore it.

“Right… I’m actually looking for a place to stay. This is my first day here.”

“Ah, it just so happens that I know someone who works at an inn.”

“Yeah? That’s the same thing the other guy told me.” Ken points at the alley.

“You misunderstand me, friend! Unlike the other guy, I tell the truth.”

“All right, I’ll trust you for now. Lead the way,” Ken says.

“You have got to relax, friend. The inn is this way, follow me,” Marc says.

.

.

On the other side of the city square is a tavern that is as busy as ever. Workers are frantically serving tables and customers with food and alcohol as they would any other day of the week.

One of the waitresses, Adeline, is working behind the counter when a particular customer enters the establishment. Though it is a bit hard to see as the tavern is only lit by sunlight coming through the windows, she nearly instantly recognizes who it is. It is her friend Marc and a stranger she hasn’t seen before who come up to sit on the stools at the counter. Quickly finishing her current tasks, she rushes over to Marc as soon as he waves his hand at her.

“Why, hello there, Marc, it is good to see you again! Who is your friend?” she asks gleefully. Ken notices she shares the same accent with Marc.

“This here is Ken Kai. I met him just today. He is new to the city so I thought I would bring him here. Ken, this is my good friend Adeline.”

Ken and Adeline both smile at each other and shake hands before Adeline crouches behind the counter to retrieve a bottle of rum.

For as long as she has worked there, it is rare for Marc to drink anything else but rum; it is his favorite drink, after all. Taking out two cups made of wood, she serves rum to both men as she knew Marc would ask for it anyways.

“So, you’re trying to recruit another one huh Marc?” Adeline asks as she pours the rum into the cups.

This confuses Ken, who turns to look at Marc with curiosity as if asking for answers.

Marc felt Ken’s stare. He chuckles nervously and says, “Yeah, about that…”

“What? Has he not told you yet?” Adeline directs the question to Ken.

“Told me what?” Ken asks Marc.

“You see, I’m a merchant of sorts, and I was going around town to hire new people.”

Hearing Marc's poor explanation, Adeline decides to interject.

“A failing merchant,” she scoffs.

“A struggling merchant,” Marc retorts.

A few customers within the tavern are looking their way, waving their hands at Adeline.

“I think it best you explain,” she says. “I must go serve the other customers.”

Adeline leaves the two at the counter to go around to the other customers as she didn’t want to get yelled at by her boss.

As she leaves, Marc gulps down the rum before turning to Ken to explain his situation.

“All right, look. I’m a merchant. That part is true. I trade whatever I could get my hands on. I usually buy weapons and tools from local blacksmiths who can’t sell their stuff otherwise. I made good money for a while and lived comfortably, but competition has been increasing lately.”

Understanding Marc’s position a little better, Ken sympathizes, but only slightly since Marc is still better off than most people. Ken takes a small sip from his drink but thinks it tastes a bit strange, so he puts it back down and waves it at Marc. However, something still bothers Ken about Marc’s situation.

“If competition is your problem, why did you approach me then? Especially if you realized I was new to the city.”

Marc takes Ken’s cup and drinks it before answering. After putting the cup down, Marc burps and points at Ken’s clothes.

“You don’t dress like the average commoner,” Marc smiles. “That pack of yours ain’t empty, is it?”

Ken has all but forgotten that he was still carrying his backpack the entire time. After realizing how he must have looked in Marc’s eyes, he laughs.

“Smart man. Yeah, you’re right. It’s not. But you’re not getting any of it. The stuff inside is mine and mine only.”

“Ahh, mysterious are we? Tell you what. How about a deal?” Marc says.

“What kind of deal?” Ken says hesitantly. He is almost sure that Marc may try to scam him somehow.

“Only the most reasonable kind. Surely you must want something or are looking for something. If I can help you out, perhaps you can also help me out?”

Ken thinks about Marc’s offer. In truth, this is an excellent opportunity for Ken. And perhaps one that he wouldn’t get again in the future, he has to seize it.

“What I want…” Ken taps his fingers on the counter. “What I want is to create a successful business.”

“And what kind of business would that be?” he asks with an amused face.

“I’m not sure yet. But selling weapons sounds like a good venture,” Ken says.

Marc laughs at Ken’s idea.

“Weapons? I just said I am struggling, didn’t I? A newcomer in this market isn’t likely to succeed. You should know that. If you want to become a successful merchant, you must have what others don’t,” Marc says.

Ken smiles at this. “I do have what others don’t. This pack.” Ken points at his backpack.

“Call me an inventor because I have some designs that some people might be interested in. I just need the resources.”

“You need money? I can’t help you there, friend.” Marc chuckles.

“No, not money. At least not now. I need influence. I need property. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” Ken puts up his finger. “First, I need to organize a company. Can you help?”

Marc thinks about Ken’s proposition extensively. This could turn out to be an excellent opportunity for Marc assuming that Ken succeeds in whatever he wants to do. He certainly seems confident about himself and whatever is in his pack. But he needs to be sure.

“How sure are you?” Marc asks.

“I’m very sure. In fact, I guarantee it,” Ken says with confidence. And confidence he has, there is no possibility that he would fail in his mind.

“Right then.” Marc clears his throat. “On the west side of the city square is the Castle Ward District. It’s primarily government buildings; the City Hall is there. That’s where you register a new company and also where you can find your information on properties that are for sale. They ain’t cheap though. You best have money for it. And uh. If you want to meet people, I’ve been invited to a banquet at the Duke’s castle held in a few days.”

Ken feels like he hit a bullseye. This is the best opportunity he could have hoped for, and all on his first day in the city. Luck is truly on his side. In hindsight, he almost feels thankful that someone tried to rob him; otherwise, he would have missed this golden opportunity.

“Just remember who helped you,” Marc says, suggesting Ken is indebted.

“Right right,” Ken says. “About a place to stay…”

“This tavern is built under an inn. The upper floors are all rooms for rent.”

Marc looks around the tavern to try and spot Adeline. Adeline notices that he is waving his hand at her and hurries over to the counter when she sees him.

“Ken here needs a room for the night. I’ll pay for his room,” Marc then turns to Ken. “But only for tonight.”

.

.

Later that day, the sun had gone down, and darkness engulfed the city. Only specks of light can be seen originating from a few light sources, primarily candles. Ken stands in his room that Marc so graciously paid for. It isn’t much, but it has a bed, a wooden desk, and a few candles to light up the room. Having released himself from the taxing weight of his backpack, he falls upon the bed. He slowly removes his coat to get ready to sleep, revealing what he hid underneath—unholstering a handgun and setting it aside on a table beside the bed along with a few knives that he held around his body. Now he only wears his formal black shirt. As he lays there, he is disappointed that the bed is hard and uncomfortable but infinitely many times better than those in the ship he traveled on. Ken stares at the ceiling in wonder. Ignoring the footsteps and creaking wood caused by other people in other rooms, Ken reflects on his next steps.

Over a month ago, he was selected by the EIA, or the Entesian Intelligence Agency, along with several other people to travel to the other side of Adon. Some agents were deployed to the Venesian Empire to monitor their activities due to their colonization efforts in southern Weslec. The rest got off the boat at various coastal cities of different countries before reaching Scorcia. All had the goal of gathering intelligence. But political and military intelligence isn’t all; they also had to collect general information. Being on the other side of the world meant that some things or all things might be different. Common knowledge here may simply not be common or known back home, so any information is useful, even the year these people consider living in.

Though espionage isn’t exactly Ken’s area of expertise, he was chosen for an entirely different reason, something much bigger. As a paramilitary officer, his extensive combat training would be relied upon for any unforeseen life-threatening dangers that he may face in such an unknown and mythical world. Espionage is not the objective. Survival is.

The Rothester Plan, a joint venture by the American CIA and Entesian EIA, is a long-term Top-Secret program that aims to create turmoil from within using the disguise of a savior. Forcing the Venesian Empire to halt or abandon its invasion of the new world is just one effect the program is expected to incur. Instead of hiding and watching from the shadows, Ken would do so in plain sight. Ken and Matt are members of a five-man team who, unknown to the other EIA agents, are also Americans.