It was dusk when the trio of humans, and one Batsel, cleared the unseasonable fogs surrounding the Neeft. As they crested the hill outside Kellen’s Veld, the weight of the day’s events finally caught up to Cadryn. He really was a frontier tower Guard, this would be his life, for the foreseeable future. He’d almost died on his first day, and taken a man’s life. What else awaited him in the coming days, hell, weeks? To say nothing of making it a year. He shook his head at the thought.

Watching him, Korbinian elbowed him in the ribs, lightly. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s not all like this, most days its, well . . . “a toothy grin spread across his lips.

“Don’t,” Gita chirped.

“A deafening silence,” he finished, and was jabbed in the ribs, hard, by Sil.

“That was never funny,” she groaned, and half-heartedly attempted to resist the arm the old man put around her and Cadryn.

“Come on!” he yelled, clearly under the influence of the brew he’d let Cadryn taste in the clearing. “Amber’s Toast is calling us home.”

Amber’s Toast proved to be much like the Tavern Cadryn had grown up in, his father’s place. In that it was both familiar, and a bit unwelcoming. There was some differences of course; Amber’s Toast was the premier establishment of Kellen’s Veld, and dominated the main square of the town. Three stories tall, wooden upper floors over a flagstone great hall. A far cry from the hole in the wall his father called ‘his little kingdom’.

However, the biggest difference was the proprietor herself, Amber, like his father, had named the place after herself, but unlike him, it had proven to be an act of invitation rather than exclusion.

Everyone drank at Amber’s, men and women, locals and travelers, the old and the young. It was the very heart of the place, and his fellow guards were just as welcome. On this frontier at least, it seemed the Empire had found a way to stay on the good side of the ruled. No one made the sign of the Marked Man, or uttered curses upon their arrival. They were led to the Keepers usual seats, on the third story balcony.

There, they sat, drank, and caroused. There, again, Cadryn considered that, maybe, Destiny had a plan for him that involved this place. Then, as the sun sank below the horizon, something happened that he had never seen.

“It’s time,” Sil said, draining her mug.

“Time for what?” Cadryn asked.

“You’ll see, kid,” Korbinian answered, and pointed back in the direction of the Neeft. “Just watch.”

Cadryn did, and within a handful of breaths it happened. A point of light, like a star, burned into being in the sky just over the hill they’d climbed down into town. He felt underwhelmed, and was about to say it, when the star bloomed. It doubled in brightness with each passing moment, until, less than a minute later, it blazed like the newly risen sun in miniature.

And below its light, gleamed the spires, gardens, and towers of the Neeft. Taller than anything he’d every seen, like a mad god’s toy castle stretched to the clouds. The Citadel Obedient (of that long now dead militant order), formed a wide, and impossibly small base, from which other buildings rose, clawing skyward.

“What is that?” he asked, of no one in particular.

“That’s the edge of the Empire, the edge of the civilized world.” Korbinian answered.

“It’s an arcane beacon, surely you’ve seen one before.” Gita slurred, head lolling back into the bowl she was lapping from.

Deafening Silence smiled at the wonder on Cadryn’s face as she refilled her glass. He was her’s now, as instructed. Raising the filled glass she caught his golden gaze and smiled, though the naive joy she saw in his own smile pained her. “Welcome to the Neeft,” she said. “Welcome home.”