A hooded man walks hunched over through the crowds, his face cloaked in shadows, revealing only a few strands of his gray beard. He is like a ghost; no one hears him, and no one notices him, but he is paying close attention to his surroundings, to what is shown, and to what is heard.
A merchant yells at a caravan master to avoid taking the bridges to the south because, for now, the miners are still carving their way through the new wall. At a general goods store, a line forms to buy bags of daystones—fragments of warm, luminescent golden rock that are said to cast the same light as the dawn. The kingdom's middle-class citizens have started hanging these stones from the doors and windows of their homes and businesses, driven by the superstition that they ward off dark elves and other creatures of the Underdark.
The man acting as a shadow cracks a bitter smile. He thinks: If the sun itself couldn't ward off the dark elves, how could a few tiny imitators achieve anything better?
More effective, it promises, are the flashes of light rising from the noble district, the walled area near the castle where the wealthiest citizens live. Those bursts of light that leave observing children wide-eyed in the distance are powerful barriers and blessings cast by priests. The service is expensive, but after what happened, wealthy families decided to hire a service they had previously ignored.
The hooded man grunts with a raspy voice and heads toward the exit of the second wall.
It's hard to tell where the districts inside the third wall begin. The alleys blur together, as do the houses; the stairways are erratic, and there are many dark sections where walking is ill-advised or that end in dead ends. There are still corpses and blood in those corners, among the rubble and smoking ruins. Ordinary citizens cannot go in to clean up; that task falls to the soldiers, the men and women with weapons, because otherwise, they could fall victim to the plagues festering deep in the lower districts—places where not even the king, with all his authority and power, has been able to fully reach.
The hooded man crosses a stone bridge and looks at the drain flowing beneath. The water is the color of ash, but sometimes, when it drifts away from the light, that strange dust can shimmer like frost. Vagrants and dirt-covered children wade into the water, trying to catch the specks of light with their hands, only to emerge disappointed when the plenilunium waste is struck by the light again.
"How could they resist the sun?" the hooded man asks himself, glancing slightly up at the sky. He furrows his brow and clenches his fists until they creak. He smells it and feels it—unnatural powers stalking the kingdom.
But exactly where...?
The hooded man realizes he won't find answers on that bridge. He decides it's time to head back.
Taking the paths most devoid of people, the hooded man reaches one of the castle wall's entrances. The guards posted at the threshold recognize the man; they stand tall and salute.
King Marc gives them a nod of acknowledgment and prepares to return to the castle, but then a sight stops him and makes him raise an eyebrow. There are at least a dozen naked men running around the castle. He stands in silence for a minute, trying to figure out what is going on. He turns and asks the guards if anything interesting happened.
"It's a punishment imposed by Captain Hilda, Your Majesty. We don't know exactly what they did to anger her, but it must have been something very serious."
Marc nods and heads into the castle. He avoids stopping the punishment, assuming Hilda has valid reasons. Perhaps his wife will end up shrieking in alarm upon seeing such a spectacle, and the thought brings a tiny smile to Marc's face.
The castle entrance is a single iron portcullis, and to reach it, one must climb five large steps, so steep that scaling each one requires a long stride. Supposedly, each step represents the five men who helped Estoicus found the kingdom... But it's also inconvenient, especially for the maidens, which is why a normal-scaled staircase was ordered to be built alongside the main ones—a convenience Marc allows himself to use now that he is just a hooded man and not 100% a king.
He reaches the foyer. An octagonal skylight lets in natural light. Near one of the four square pillars holding up the ceiling, a handful of maids are chatting, several of them blushing. Upon noticing the king, they all jump and hurry to lower their heads. When he grants them permission to speak, one of them—the oldest and most authoritative—asks for the favor of stopping the soldiers' punishment outside, as otherwise, none of them can go out to the courtyard.
"I'll see what I can do. Where is Hilda?"
The maids explain that Hilda left in a great hurry toward the castle's basement, followed by Captain Lynel. King Marc frowns upon hearing this, but decides not to ask further and go check for himself. With Arrax bedridden, the king doubts he's the reason Hilda let herself be carried away by haste.
There is another possibility, small but concerning...
The Dungeon Core.
He reaches the cells and walks past the prisoners. He arrives at the laboratory and finds one of Arrax's disciples sitting on a stool, hunched over, clutching her head in her hands. Marc brings a fist to his mouth and clears his throat loudly to make his presence known.
Marnie squeaks and flails her arms to regain her balance, nearly falling off the stool upon seeing the king. Clumsily, she hurries to kneel, but the king stops her, extending a hand and demanding to know where Hilda is.
"She left with Captain Lynel, neither has returned," Marnie says, unable to control the tremble in her voice, constantly fidgeting with her hands. "The core, the imp, they spoke to them... They changed everything! And they claimed they had something to show, something that would help the kingdom."
From the way Marnie is shaking, the king understands that Hilda and Lynel might have walked into a trap. He looks at the doors to the core's room with suspicion; in another time, he would have thrown himself into danger without a second thought, but now he has a responsibility hanging over his head.
"Your Majesty," a voice comes from the cell corridor.
When Marc and Marnie look, they find the witch with slanted green eyes and a shaved head: Laikara. Marnie steps back on instinct; the oracle of secrets is an enemy of Arrax, and therefore, an enemy of hers as well.
"I have bad news," Laikara says.
King Marc assumes it's about the core's possible rebellion, but Laikara quickly corrects him.
"Captain Claus arrived an hour ago..."
Marc nods happily; with Claus, they could eradicate the bond and save Hilda and Lynel if necessary. But Laikara's grim expression makes him realize it won't be that simple.
"A dark elf attacked him while he was escorting Captain Axiel. Claus... is in a coma."
...
"Alright... Do your thing," Hilda says, with her only eye closed. After 20 minutes of looking for keys, illusions, putting out the torches, relighting them, and elbowing the last door with no sign of success, she opts to settle the matter and accept the hint.
"My master says there is a proper and polite way to ask for things," Dowmy says.
Hilda opens her eye and glares at the girl. Dowmy quickly backs away, terrified of the look and of receiving a sword slash. Lynel hurries to step between them to keep the peace.
"Hilda, I'll handle this," Lynel says, looking up at the ceiling, where he assumes the Dungeon Core is watching them. The captain coughs to clear his throat and says: "Sir Dungeon Core, would you be so kind as to give us a hint?"
Both knights turn their eyes to Dowmy, waiting for an answer that soon arrives.
"My master wants the woman to ask for it too."
"Do not test my patience!" Hilda erupts.
Lynel steps in front of the captain again and raises his hands to try and calm her down.
"Hilda, please, we have to finish this and get out of here soon. If we delay and don't stop the punishment in time, half the troop will desert," Lynel says.
Seeing the concern in his comrade-in-arms' eyes, Hilda sighs and takes a deep breath to relax. Clenching a fist with her lips twisted into a grimace, she shoots a glare at the ceiling and begins to speak slowly.
"Please... a hint... Dungeon Core."
Jimbo would prefer to demand more from her, but with a mischievous smile, he decides that will suffice, and dictates the hint to Dowmy. The imp nods and passes it along.
"It has to do with time... and age."