The night had settled over Solva like a heavy cloak by the time I'd seen the last of my party to their doors—Suzuki's gentle wave fading into her modest home's glow, Lance's boisterous laugh echoing as he stumbled into his cluttered bachelor den, Gild's silent nod vanishing behind the reinforced gate of his stone-walled abode. The cart's wheels rattled over the cobblestones as my horse snorted, its breath misting in the crisp air. I'd almost forgotten—Chief Lucian had summoned me this noon when we are at the inspection area.
With Kozuki settled at the Hkou Inn and the others accounted for, duty tugged me onward. I urged the horse forward, the cart creaking as we cut through Solva's quieting streets toward the Security Department. The moon hung high, silvering the rooftops, but the city's pulse had slowed—fewer lanterns glowed, fewer voices carried. I pulled the reins taut as we reached the department's looming silhouette, halting the cart with a soft whoa to the beast. The Security Department stood apart from Solva's ramshackle sprawl, a fortress of order amidst the chaos. Its exterior was a stern edifice of gray stone, quarried from the cliffs beyond the city, its blocks fitted with militaristic precision—smooth yet weathered, streaked with faint moss and the patina of decades. Towers flanked its corners, short and squat, their conical roofs tiled in dark slate that gleamed wetly under the moonlight. Iron bars latticed the narrow windows, their glass thick and rippled, glowing faintly from within like the eyes of a watchful beast. The entrance yawned wide, a double door of reinforced oak banded with steel, its surface scarred with shallow gouges—remnants of past scuffles or desperate fists. Above it, a carved crest loomed—a sword crossed with a torch, Solva's sigil of law, weathered but unyielding. Lanterns flanked the door, their flames steady in glass cages, casting stark shadows across the flagstone courtyard where my cart now rested, the horse's hooves clinking faintly as it shifted.
I dismounted, my obsidian armor clanking softly, and tethered the horse to a post before striding inside. The interior swallowed me whole, a stark contrast to the night's open chill. The foyer was a cavern of stone and function—walls of the same gray blocks, unadorned save for a few faded banners bearing the sword-and-torch crest, their edges fraying from years of dust and draft. The floor was polished granite, its surface scuffed by countless boots, reflecting the dim flicker of wall-mounted sconces—iron brackets cradling fat candles that dripped wax in slow, amber tears. A broad reception desk dominated the space, hewn from dark oak and manned by a dour clerk in a gray tunic, his quill scratching over parchment as he logged the night's reports. Beyond him, a corridor stretched into shadow, punctuated by the clank of armor and muffled voices—guards on their rounds, their presence a steady rhythm beneath the stillness.
The atmosphere hummed with a quiet tension, a blend of discipline and unease. The air carried the scent of oiled steel and parchment dust, undercut by a faint whiff of sweat and leather from the guards milling about. Two stood near the desk, their chainmail glinting as they murmured over a crumpled map—one a stocky man with a grizzled beard, the other a lanky youth with nervous eyes, both glancing my way with nods of recognition before resuming their talk. A third guard paced near the stairs, his spear tapping the floor with each step, the sound echoing up the stone stairwell I now ascended. The department felt alive yet strained—its order a thin veneer over the chaos Lucian had hinted at, the weight of Solva's nights pressing against its walls.
I climbed the stairs, the steps worn smooth at their centers, and reached a landing lined with closed doors—offices, armories, cells, maybe. After a few strides down the hall, I stopped at a familiar door, its oak surface polished but unadorned save for a brass nameplate: Chief Lucian. I rapped my knuckles against it, the sound sharp in the quiet.
"This is Masamato," I called, my voice steady.
"Come in," came the reply, calm and measured, from within. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the hinges creaking faintly. Lucian's office was a spartan chamber, its stone walls softened only by a single tapestry—Solva's crest again, woven in muted reds and grays—hanging behind his desk. The desk itself was a slab of dark wood, cluttered with scrolls, a dagger pinning a map in place, and an inkpot tipped precariously near the edge. A single lantern burned on a shelf, its light pooling across the room, casting Lucian's shadow long against the wall. He stood by the window, arms clasped behind his back, gazing out at the moonlit city. His chief's attire was impeccable— a high-collared tunic of deep blue, edged with silver braid, over trousers of the same hue, his boots polished to a mirror sheen. His graying hair was cropped close, his posture rigid, a man carved from duty as much as flesh.
"You know," he began, his voice low and even, "there's been a surge in crime lately." He didn't turn, his gaze fixed on the streets below.
"And I'm starting to think those patrol officers aren't enough. We found one dead tonight—in an alley, throat slashed, purse gone."
I shifted, the weight of my armor settling as I processed his words. "So you want me to patrol at night?"
"Yes," he said, turning to face me at last. His eyes—steel-gray, sharp as a blade—met mine, unwavering. The lines of his face deepened in the lantern's glow, a map of years spent wrestling Solva's shadows.
"Why me, though?" I asked, crossing my arms. "You've got a whole roster—trained men, eager ones."
"Because you're the only one I can trust," he replied, stepping closer, his boots clicking softly on the granite floor. "You've got the skill, the grit—and you don't flinch when it gets ugly."
He paused, studying me, the lantern light glinting off the silver braid on his shoulder.
"So, will you do it?"
"I—" I hesitated, the weight of his trust settling like a mantle across my shoulders, Solva's night stretching out beyond the window, dark and restless.