After the customs desk was a large wooden platform surrounded by a cage and many wires.

Jacques explained, “To get up to the city, a giant elevator lifts people, cargo, and equipment up the cliff to the markets above. This is the quickest way to get goods to the market, ya see.”

He then pointed to a small line of people walking towards a staircase to their left. “Those stairs over there lead to the poor part of the city, which we don’t have any need to go to. I wouldn’t call it dangerous, but best not to take risks.”

“The poor part of the city?” asked Chip.

“There is a great social class divide in Foscor city. Since Skill Scrolls and Level Up scrolls are so expensive, there is a very real and tangible power difference between the poor and the elite. The Overlord uses this divide to help fuel the military, giving the poor a way to access skills and training, in-service to the Overlord’s goals.”

The group stepped onto the elevator and it creaked and moaned as the rope mechanism turned. Chip noticed something about the ropes and turned to Jacques.

“It seems like some of the threads are glowing. Is there magic being used?”

“The magic threads keep the rope strong. There’s little bits of magic running throughout the whole city keeping together, making the walls stronger, or the streets safer. But normally something has to go wrong first before anything gets upgraded. Take this lift for example. When I was younger and working on a cargo ship, this lift was purely a-magical. Just ropes and levers. That was until a particular heavy shipment snapped the rope and the elevator broke. The merchant lost the shipment and half of his crew.”

“That’s terrible!” said Leela, looking over the edge of the lift. “And that’s what caused the Overlord to invest in magical ropes?”

“What? Oh no. That was the first of the three events before the Overlord before someone came up with the idea for magical ropes.”

“Three?!” The group said in unison. The lift shook as it anchored to the top port. A bell rang signaling they’ve arrived. Arilee looked over the edge, the dock looked so small from up here. The people looked like little dots.

The door to the lift opened revealing a bustling marketplace. Vendors filled stalls with merchandise of all sorts on display. Humans filled almost every space, but Arilee noticed a few dwarves and barbarians. Jacques led the group of four through the market as best he could, trying to reach the other side, but there were distractions every step.

“You there, young adventurers! You can’t fight with a dull blade like that. Come to Ishtar’s Blade Emporium!” shouted one man after them.

“Nonsense! Ignore him! Armor is what you need! Come by Shmee’s Plates!” said a burly hairy man from one stall.

“Potions! Potions! Potions that aren’t too strong for you!” said a robed shop vendor.

Arilee saw one man poke his head out of an alleyway ahead of them and then ducked quickly back in.

Jacques saw him and cautioned the group to stay away.

“Everyone is just trying to sell you something. If any of you need anything, just ask me.”

As they walked by the alleyway, a man leaped out, opening his robe. Hues of blue and green glowed from underneath as the group saw dozens of different scrolls stitched to the inner lining.”

“You all want some scrolls? Hehehe.” The man cackled wildly.

“Get out of here you miscreant! We don’t want your tainted scrolls!” yelled Jacques, brandishing his sword to scare the man off.

Watching the man scurry off, Jacques turned to the group. “There’s a huge black market for Levelup and Skill Scrolls but you can’t trust what you get off the street. Only trust what you get from your Class Guilds or a Military Trainer.”

The loud clattering of armor and swords suddenly filled the marketplace as a patrol of guards walked down the street. The shoppers quickly cleared a path for them, moving to the sides. Arilee thought to herself how sharp their uniforms looked. The black and red colors posed a striking contrast to the white rock material the buildings were made from. She wondered what material the cloth was made from. It looked soft and light, but strong.

Jacques motioned for the group to move aside out of the road as the patrol passed them.

“The City Guard. Different from your average military recruit. These are some of the best trained soldiers among their ranks. You have to be at least Level 30 to even apply. The Registrar won’t even speak with you until then.”

“Wow!” said Chip, his eyes going wide. “My granddad used to tell me stories about the Capital City guards. They were the strongest line of defense in the early days of the Empire.”

“That’s true,” said Jacques. “After the Flood, the Overlord was quick to realize that if humans were to become the new masters of the land, they would need a strong base to build out from. In the 200 years since its founding, the Capital City has never fallen. It is an impenetrable fortress, by land or sea.”

“My favorite story was always of Lord Rodim, the first Captain of the City Guard protecting the farm village of Hothra. It’s said his golden armor could not be broken or scratched. It was impenetrable by any blade. A hero of the Great Dwarven War”

“Oh yes. Many people’s favorite,” said Jacques. “You can actually still visit his tomb, and I encourage you all to do it. It is a short pilgrimage to make, he was laid to rest and a shrine built over it on his estate, east of the city.”

“Oh yes we will have to do that!” said Chip, turning to the group. “What do you think? What to go after we’re done here in the city?”

A dialogue scroll appeared for Arilee

Dialogue Scroll

1. Tell Chip that sounds like a good idea.

2. Tell Chip there are more important matters at hand.

Arilee thought about it. It seemed like Chip really wanted to go, but it seemed like an idle trip they didn’t have time for. Especially after everything they learned on the Island.

“Maybe another time Chip. Let’s focus on the quests at hand for now.” Arilee felt bad knowing his feelings would be hurt.

The second option highlighted itself.

-2 Relationship with Chip

Chip’s face dropped a little and his excitement died down.

Wanting to make up for it in some way, Arilee thought quick. “Why don’t you tell us the story as we walk? I’ve never heard any stories about the guard before.” She said making an awkward smile.

Leela subtly put her arm on Arilee’s shoulder and smiled, reassuring her.

Chip’s face lit up a tiny bit. The scroll updated again.

+1 relationship with Chip.

+1 relationship with Leela.

The scroll disappeared.

“Okay!”

“The story starts during the Early Wars just after the Flood. While the bulk of the Overlord’s army was preparing to lay siege to Laroth Mountain, the dwarven general Stormstrong the Mighty what forces he could gather to assault the Capital City. When scout reports came in that an army was approaching, Captain Rodim realized the villages were defenseless. All of the men had been drafted into service and were hundreds of miles away.

Captain Rodim wasn’t about to leave the women and children to defend themselves, but he also couldn’t send any of the City Guard to help because they were needed here. So the Captain did the only thing he could. He saddled up a horse, packed his bag, and mounted up. On his way out of the city, he stopped at the Temple of Light for one last prayer to the Goddess. The legends say it was then that the Goddess laid a divine blessing upon his armor.

When the Captain arrived at the village Hothra, the Dwarven force was only two days away. He spent day and night working with the women and children to set up defenses and boobytrap the village.

By the time the dwarves arrived, he was ready. Stormstrong began by burning the fields and the grain houses. His goal was to make the Overlord’s army turn around, or else they wouldn’t have a home to come back to. He was going to burn everything he could.

The Dwarven General on the first day sent a small force to burn the village, but when they didn’t return, he sent a bigger force on the next day. And when that didn’t return, on the third day he went himself. Upon discovering it was just one man repelling his forces, he flew into a rage. To show his army how easy it was to kill one man, Stormstrong walked alone into the open field in front of the village, and challenged Captain Rodim to a fight.

It’s said lightning flew from Stormstrong’s hammer, but not even the bolts themselves could pierce the Blessed Armor. Captain Rodim threw down the Dwarven General that day, forcing the Dwarfs to retreat. So weakened were the dwarves without their General, that they could no longer return and save their mountain from the encroaching Overlord. Laroth Mountain eventually fell to the Overlord, but it’s the tale of Captain Rodim that is remembered most.”

Leela and Arilee clapped when Chip’s story finished. Slicks hissed his tongue now and had a sour look on his face.

“Oh good. The Empire winsssss again. Another race subjugated.”

Chip’s face of excitement became a look of sadness. “I’m sorry Slicks. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’ssss okay. You’re only human.” Slicks said with a look of contempt.

Jacques picked up on tension and his voice rose above the group’s. “Alright everyone, we’re just about there. We go up this road just a little more and turn down the street on the right.” He paused for a second, thinking. “It’s appearance might be a little shocking.”

Arilee wondered what that might mean. After they left the market, the district turned distinctively upscale the higher up the hill they climbed. The rich houses covered two of the smaller houses plots. The drapery was nicer, and the colors brighter.

But when they turned down the designated street, Arilee understood. It was a darker street, hidden from the sun by the large buildings around it. The signs were dilapidated and it almost seemed like a fire had gone through this street.

“What happened here?” asked Leela.

“This was discovered to be a rebel street not too long ago. The Overlord had it burnt down. It never really recovered.” Jacques said leading them down the short street. He stopped outside a tavern looking building. The sign out front was hanging by one hinge.

“The Inn of Wandering Mists.” read Arilee aloud. It had a picture of a cloud hovering over a tree on it.

“Yup, this is it,” said Jacques. He looked up at the sky checking the Sun’s position. “It’s almost dinner time and I don’t have anywhere to be. I’m going to come in with you, if you don’t mind. I could use a drink myself.”