"HALT! Do you have a traveler's certificate?" the armored soldier said, blocking Alistor and Micreal's path.
"Well, we do have one, good sir," Alistor answered with a calm smile, "but our carriage was ambushed by bandits. They took everything—including our certificates. I was wondering if I could acquire a new one?"
(Talent Used: Persuasive Lies)
"Hmm... I see," the armored soldier said, eyeing them. After a moment, he nodded. "You may enter. I'll have another soldier escort you to the Travelers' Lounge."
As they walked with the soldier, Alistor leaned toward Micreal and whispered, "Well, this is a good kind of service in this realm, isn't it, Micreal?"
"Yeah, sure... whatever you say, sir," Micreal replied, looking away, unamused.
The Capital of Zulu bustled with life—streets lively, citizens joyous as though a festival occurred every day. Merchants shouted their wares: food, vegetables, and curious trinkets, while colorful banners swayed overhead.
Finally, they arrived at a grand building.
"Here you go—the Travelers' Lounge. You can register for a new certificate inside. As long as you don't cause trouble, you're good," the soldier said, pointing toward the entrance.
"Thank you, good sir. We'll keep your advice in mind," Alistor said, tipping his top hat respectfully.
"Good day to you both," the soldier replied before leaving.
Inside, the lounge buzzed with adventurers—some wielding staves, others clad in heavy armor. Alistor and Micreal could feel eyes glaring at them. Little did they know—it wasn't hostility, but curiosity toward their strange, foreign clothing.
At the counter, Alistor leaned forward and asked politely, "Hello there. May we request a new traveler's certificate?"
"Of course," the clerk said with a smile. "Please follow me."
They followed her into a small room where a polished glass ball rested atop a velvet cushion.
"Here," the lady explained, "we will measure your abilities first. Who would like to go first?"
Alistor placed his hand under his chin thoughtfully. "Micreal, why don't you?"
"If that's okay with you, sir..." Micreal said, bowing slightly before stepping up.
Micreal placed his hand gently onto the crystal ball. It immediately flared to life—black particles swirling outward, the glass glowing deep purple, trembling under the pressure. Small cracks spiderwebbed across its surface from the strain.
The lady stood there, speechless.
Micreal removed his hand, stepping back respectfully.
"As expected of my butler," Alistor said proudly, approaching the sphere.
"My thanks, sir," Micreal replied, bowing once more.
Alistor placed his hand on the crystal ball—and instantly, the room darkened.
The crystal ball emitted a deep, suffocating black glow. Black particles burst into the air—faces appeared in the mist, silently screaming. The sphere trembled violently, and loud cracks echoed as it failed to contain the raw energy.
Finally—shatter!—the crystal ball broke apart.
The girl at the counter gasped, her eyes wide with astonishment.
Suddenly, a small figure stepped into the room—a girl with a pointed wizard hat and a staff nearly taller than herself. She stood behind Alistor and Micreal, her head lowered so her face remained hidden.
"Seems we have... interesting travelers here..." she said, her voice cool and curious.
Alistor and Micreal turned, tense and alert.
"Who are you?" Micreal demanded.
[Chapter 2 End]