Leon condensed two hours of research into five minutes of crucial informationâthe Unionâs power structure, the racial dynamics, the guild systems, which cities to avoid, and which roads merchants preferred.
"The Dominion Union controls everything that matters," he explained as they walked. "Kingdoms exist at their pleasure. The guilds operate under their license. Even wars need their tacit approval, or they send interventions..."
"We know enough to navigate now," he concluded, turning down a street that would lead them toward the commercial district. "First stop is the Adventure Guild. We need identities as adventurers. Itâll make traveling easier and less suspicious. Most places wonât question adventurers passing through."
They walked through streets that felt different now that Leon understood them.
At the border, he hadnât seen any mixed demi-human, but as he dived deeper, closer to the Adventure Guild, he discovered a few.
The mix of races made more senseânot random diversity but careful political balance. A cat-eared woman walked past, her feline features prominentâpointed ears, swishing tail, slitted eyes that caught light differently than human ones. Her clothes suggested merchant class, well-made but not ostentatious.
Behind her, a man with subtle wolf characteristicsâjust pointed ears and sharper caninesâargued with a human merchant over prices. Neither seemed to notice the racial difference; they were too focused on their haggling.
Demi-humans. Some lean more beast, others more human.
A young boy with rabbit ears ran past, chasing a ball. His owner called after him, and Leon noticed the black bracelet on the childâs wrist. Several other demi-humans wore the same mark. But then he saw humans with identical bracelets, sweeping streets or carrying loads.
The weak and unfortunate get enslaved, regardless of race.
The pattern became clear. Slavery wasnât about species but circumstance. Debt, crime, warâthese created slaves. The Unionâs multi-racial leadership meant discrimination was economically impractical. Why limit your potential property to one race when you could exploit anyone who fell far enough?
Conan City sat on the far western edge of the Middle Domain, a modest human settlement by regional standards. Yet even here, the racial diversity reflected the Unionâs influence. When your ultimate authority included orc chieftains and goblin merchants alongside human nobles, segregation became pointless.
The Adventure Guild building stood three stories tall, a solid stone construction that could withstand a siege. Its wooden sign depicted crossed swords over a shield, the universal symbol recognized across all territories. The doors remained open despite the late hour, revealing a tavern-like interior bustling with evening activity.
The main floor combined multiple functionsâregistration desk, job board, tavern, and meeting space. Adventurers of various races sat at rough wooden tables, some celebrating successful quests with alcohol, others planning their next moves over maps. The job board covered an entire wall, papers pinned three layers deep in places.
They approached the reception desk, where a burly, muscular man reviewed documents. His arms were thicker than Lorielâs waist, covered in scars that told stories of violence survived. One particularly nasty mark ran from his left ear to his collar, suggesting someone had once tried very hard to kill him.
"Weâd like to register as adventurers," Leon said.
The manâs eyes assessed them professionally, taking in their clothes, their bearing, the subtle way Seraphineâs hand rested near where a weapon would hang. His gaze lingered on their lack of visible weapons or armor.
"Union ID?"
Of course. Everything traces back to them.
"We donât have them yet."
The man grunted, unsurprised, as it was not uncommon because the poor and unfortunate would get their IDs late due to their struggles.
"Can make them here. Fifty silver coins each. Paid upfront. No Loans. Guildâs got permission from the Union." He pulled out forms, the parchment covered in small print. "Need your information, though. Birthplace, previous residence, family name, notable skills, criminal history, if any."
Leonâs mind raced through possibilities. He could lie, name some distant town from his memorized maps. Perhaps claimed they came from the far reaches of human territory, some frontier settlement where records were spotty. But that felt shortsighted.
Records can be tracked. Lies can be exposed. And I donât plan to remain nobody here.
The Middle Domain offered too many opportunities. Too many things require investigation. Too many resources he might need to access. He needed an identity that would withstand scrutiny while discouraging too many questions. Something that would explain their lack of knowledge about local customs while suggesting they werenât worth pressing too hard.
The history books had mentioned itâa place considered myth, legend, perhaps real in ancient times but certainly not now. A perfect cover that was impossible to verify and dangerous to challenge.
Leon leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. The tone someone might use when sharing a dangerous secret or confessing something that could get them killed in the wrong company.
"Solaris."
The burly manâs hand stopped moving. His eyes widened fractionally, pupils dilating in involuntary surprise. The quill in his fingers trembled once before he set it down with deliberate care, as if it had suddenly become too heavy to hold.
The silence stretched between them like a held breath, pregnant with implications neither fully understood.
The silence was shattered as the burly man erupted into laughter. Not a chuckle or snicker, but deep, belly-shaking guffaws that echoed through the guild hall. He slapped the desk hard enough to make the inkwell jump, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
"Solaris!" he wheezed between laughs. "You said Solaris!"
Heads turned throughout the tavern. Conversations died mid-sentence as adventurers focused on the spectacle at the registration desk. The manâs laughter proved contagiousâseveral others began chuckling, then laughing outright.
"Hey, everyone!" the scarred man called out, still struggling to breathe through his mirth. "These three claim theyâre from Solaris!"
The laughter spread like wildfire. A table of human adventurers pounded their fists on wood, roaring with amusement. An orc in the corner snorted ale through his nose. Even some of the serving staff covered their mouths, trying unsuccessfully to hide their giggles.
Seraphineâs lightning-flecked eyes narrowed, the faint scent of ozone coiling around her like a warning the crowd didnât recognize.
Not everyone joined in. A few veteran adventurers remained silent, watching with careful eyes. A hooded figure near the job board shifted slightly, hand moving toward their belt.
Expected reaction. Now for the response.
Leonâs expression never changed. He didnât argue or explain. Instead, he simply raised one hand, palm facing upward.
Light coalesced above his shoulder. Not gradually, but instantlyâbetween one heartbeat and the next. Swords materialized from pure radiance, each one perfectly formed, edges sharp enough to split silk. Five, ten, twenty blades of condensed light element arranged themselves in a deadly array behind him, all pointed at the laughing manâs throat.
The laughter cut off like someone had sliced it with a knife.
The entire guild hall went absolutely still. A mug stopped halfway to someoneâs lips. A dice game frozen mid-throw. Even breathing seemed to pause as every eye fixed on the impossible display of magic.
The burly manâs face drained of color, his eyes crossing slightly as he tried to focus on the nearest blade hovering inches from his Adamâs apple.
"Solaris I said."