On his final few dozen meters of approach to what Romulus was realizing was possibly a city after all, the gates seemed both menacing and powerful. They had been built with a black stone that seemed bereft of seams or visible masonry marks, as if the wall and gate were part of one massive slab of onyx. In front of the main body stood a forbidding portcullis, ten bars across and layered in thick brutalist spikes that gleamed with lethal capability.


    The defenses were equally intimidating, with vicious spikes angled groundward—in intermittent rows five high—along the wall itself to deter climbers, as well as battlements of an equally imperious design protecting the theoretical guardians patrolling the bulwark.


    At a quick estimate, the height of the walls was easily in excess of ten meters.


    The closer he’d gotten, the harder it had been to chance a look to see if anyone had been patrolling. The gate itself was even higher than the walls, with connecting platforms and shielded murder holes which no doubt provided a safe vantage point for the defenders in the case of an attack or siege.


    When he’d reached the shadow of the gate, his surprise had been compounded. Given the beauty of the wall and the evidently masterful nature of its construction, he’d expected to be greeted by some manner of royal guard or soldiers in equally impressive attire.


    Instead two roughly dressed guards, each of whom looked and smelled as if they had never heard of a shower, stepped out of a shabby guard house that looked to have been added long after the original construction.


    “Halt!” the larger of the two said in a gravelly tone, and waited until Romulus complied before continuing. “State yer business.”


    Romulus reminded himself that Eternus Online had been advertised as a living and dynamic world. He’d read enough theoretical novels about such a thing to understand that treating the non-player characters as actual NPCs was probably a god-awful idea.


    “Hello, friends,” he said as casually as he could. Did the game have Travelers as part of its common lore of the land? Things might become complicated if not, and even though Lilith had known what he was, there was no guarantee the guards would.


    “You tryna be funny or summat?” the first guard asked while his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Yer covered in blood and smell worse’n we do.”


    “No, not at all,” Romulus said with what he hoped was a disarming smile. “This might sound a bit crazy, but I recently arrived in this area, and to be honest with you, I’m a little lost. I was attacked by a Black Wolf at the Forest edge, and—”


    “Y’were attacked by a Black Wolf?” the smaller guard cut in immediately. “And yer not dead?”


    “Well, no, I fought it off with—”


    “Yer in feckin’ linens!” the bigger guard interjected. “How th’feck did you fight it off?”


    Moment of truth.


    “Well, to be honest, I’m a Traveler,” Romulus said while glancing between them.


    Both guards straightened at that, and the pair exchanged surprised glances before the bigger one squinted analytically at Romulus. “Yer a Traveler?”


    “Yes, sir,” he responded with a hidden surge of relief.


    So they do know. Thank God.


    “Well, yer certainly not runty…” the smaller guard said as he looked Romulus over.


    “Thank you,” Romulus said with a smile, while silently thankful he’d beefed himself up in character creation, and put so many of his points into Strength. “I try to keep fighting fit.”


    “Uh huh. Explains the blood, at least—though we didn’t expect t’see none of yer lot fer a while yet,” the big guard continued, his voice once again edging toward suspicion.


    “Yes, well, I had a bit of a mix-up in my, uh, Travel—” he emphasized and grinned at them winningly “—to Eternus. Spat me out a ways back, near the forest’s edge. Hence the wolf and the blood.”


    The smaller guard snorted at that.


    “Aye,” the bigger guard said with a snort of his own, “mix-up’s right. Them Powers plunked yer arse into the arse end’ve nowhere. What level’re ye?.”


    Okay, so they know what levels are. Romulus noted immediately. The System is probably part of their normal lives. That makes sense, and it’d help with player immersion as well. It’s not like a LitRPG setting is anything new for a lot of gamers. This was a smart call on the Developers’ part.


    Before he answered the question, though, Romulus hesitated.


    In many instances, ‘levels’ could be considered socially improper to ask for, and in others, they were just a fact of life. He considered quickly whether to answer, but was saved by the smaller guard.


    “Y’can’t just ask fer ‘is level, ye big lummox. If he’s a Traveler, s’bloody rude.”


    The bigger guard glanced at his companion, and then grunted.


    “Aye, s’pose that’s true. Sorry about that. Forgot me manners.”


    Romulus sighed in relief and waved a hand in companionable dismissal. “Hey, no worries, I’m not offended.”


    Both guards smiled at that, and the bigger one spoke again.


    “Still, ye really did end up in the arse end’ve nowhere, Traveler.”


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    “I assumed something like that had happened,” Romulus replied wryly. “Truth be told, I’m just looking to try to get my bearings, and to figure out what I’m even doing here.”


    Both guards barked a laugh at his words, and seemed to relax further.


    “Aye, as are we all,” the big guard agreed.


    “I don’t suppose you have any advice or tips for me? You know, to help me survive?” Romulus tried to appear casual as he asked, but some of his concern for his situation might have slipped into his voice, because both guards seemed to soften.


    Or at least, they certainly appeared more receptive to his presence.


    “First thing yer gonna wanna do is speak to the local Wayfinder,” the big guard—the apparent spokesperson—said with a jerk of his thumb toward the gate. “He’ll get ye sorted with a map of the local area, a homestone, and a Traveler’s License. Yer gonna need that last one quick-smart, else yer likely to be mistaken fer a vagrant.”


    “Or a deserter,” the smaller guard added while eyeing Lightsbane’s hilt.


    Romulus nodded as he listened and filed away the information. “May I ask why neither of you suspected that?”


    “Ain’t no deserters nor vagrants hereabouts,” the taller guard said with a shrug. “Anyone halfway useful with a weapon is in the guard, with the King’s garrison, or part of the Duke’s wardens.”


    “Though some of the townsfolk don’t know any better,” the smaller guard explained, “so it’s best ye avoid the kerfuffle entirely, y’ken?”


    “Right. I get it,” Romulus said with a nod. “I take it people don’t often visit, then?”


    The bigger guard chortled. “Sort’ve, Traveler. There’s only two ways into Blackstone: the docks or the forest, and ain’t nobody come through that forest in our lifetime, and I been alive ‘least forty winters.”


    “And ain’t nobody who gone in there come out neither,” the smaller guard added, spitting to the side. “Bloody cursed, it is. If it weren’t fer them docks, we’d have all bloody starved. Only food we get is from the blasted ocean.”


    “Fish, fish, and more bloody fish,” the taller guard agreed sourly.


    Romulus looked between them with surprise.


    “Docks? This is a port city? I thought it was on a plain.”


    The guards squinted at him, and then both started laughing. “Get a load of this’un,” the taller guard cackled. “He’s a bloody Traveler alright.”


    The shorter guard shook his head in amusement and elaborated further.


    “Aye, Blackstone opens up to the plains and the forest, lad, but it’s built with its back to the sea on the edge of a peninsula. The walls go all the way ‘round to the mouth of the bay. Y’ken?”


    Romulus nodded, not wanting to interrupt as he listened.


    “The bay itself is full’ve all manner’ve nasty shit what predates the claiming of the city. Dozens of ships were sunk tryin’ to find the path to the harbor. Nowadays, it be the Duke’s tugs what bring them into dock and guide them out.”


    “Couldn’t people just walk onto the beach to get around the walls, then?” Romulus asked with genuine curiosity.


    Both guards guffawed.


    “Get a load of this’un,” the taller guard repeated before answering. “The peninsula ends in cliffs, lad. Sheer cliffs. The only way to access the city is thirty meters below in the dock, and the dock’s built down and along the cliffs into the bay. It’s an entire fake bloody island joined to the cliffs. Ye’ll see for yerself.”


    “Aye,” the shorter guard agreed, “and the peninsula ends in what most folks call the Jaws. They be angry-lookin’ cliffs what form the natural barriers of the bay. Two kilometers long. Whoever built this city knew what they was doin’.”


    “Aye, that’s fer certain,” the taller guard agreed with a nod.


    “And what about the big castle?” Romulus asked as casually as he could. “I saw it near the back of the city, I think, when I was coming in.”


    The guards looked at each other for a moment, and then back to him with grim expressions. “That be the old Citadel,” the taller guard answered darkly. “Nasty place. Gates are open, but there be no light inside the place, and them what go in never come out.”


    “Never,” the shorter guard confirmed. “The Duke tried to hire adventurers to clear the place of whatever evil haunts it, once. Whole city gathered to watch.”


    The taller guard shivered. “Was silence fer the first quarter hour, then… screaming. Screaming so horrid yer dick would shrivel and yer blood would lose its warmth. Whatever happened to them adventurers, it was bloody awful.”


    “Citadel’s been ignored ever since,” the smaller one said quietly. “No one’s tried to get in for the past ten winters.”


    That sounds exactly like what I’m looking for. Romulus thought with juxtaposed relief, and some mild trepidation as he nodded.


    “Good to know,” he said aloud. “So where would I find this Wayfinder?”


    “Grand Bazaar in the outer city,” the big guard answered. “Look fer the fella with the big map banner.”


    “Outer city?” Romulus asked automatically.


    “City has the inner ring and outer ring,” the shorter guard explained. “Invasion failsafe, I s’pose. We’ve not got enough people fer there t’be actual segregation ‘tween ‘em, so folks are allowed back’n’forth. Only the real posh can afford to live in the inner, tho’.”


    “That’s good to know. Thanks,” Romulus said with a genuine smile.


    “Yer welcome, lad,” the taller guard responded with a smile of his own. “I hope all Travelers be as polite as ye. Have a good time in Blackstone, mind the laws, and watch yer purse always. Small as our population be, we’re still afflicted by cutpurses and scoundrels.”


    The shorter guard spat. “Nearly two hunnerd years since we claimed this place on order of the Crown, and we still ain’t got enough support to make it a proper home.”


    Romulus nodded to the guards, and the taller of the two shouted back at the portcullis.


    “Oi! One comin’ in. Raise the ‘cullis!”


    “Eh?” a new voice responded. “Ye gone feckin’ daft? Waddayamean one comin’ in?”


    “It’s a Traveler, y’dolt! Open the feckin’ ‘cullis!”


    Another unintelligible shout sounded and the portcullis started rising a moment later.


    Romulus nodded to both guards in thanks as the taller of the two waved him on.


    “I appreciate the help. Thanks,” he said to them warmly. “I didn’t get your names, though.”


    “Ye’re welcome, Traveler. I’m Tom, and this be Jerry,” the taller guard said while gesturing to the smaller. “Welcome t’the City of Blackstone, such as it be.”


    “Welcome,” Jerry agreed.


    Romulus took a second to process that particular pair of names, and then nodded. “I’m Romulus,” he said to them simply. “Maybe I’ll see you both around.”


    “Only if’n ye frequent the taverns!” Tom said cheerfully and waved him on.


    Romulus smiled back and stepped through the looming entrance of the portcullis with a final wave, glancing up at the menacingly thick steel winched above him nervously.


    He had no doubt that the spikes above could obliterate him in an instant if dropped.


    He didn’t manage to relax until he was fully through the gatehouse and walking down the main thoroughfare of the city. Life blossomed around him sporadically as he did, showing a city that was at the very least alive—with people going about their business in a steady stream of shouts, discourse, and hawking cries that leant a feeling of true habitation to the settlement. Blackstone was clearly far larger than its population, as the endless amounts of unused or ruined buildings revealed.


    I need to make it a point to look at this place from a vantage point later.


    Lightsbane pulsed its impatience at his side, and Romulus nodded absently.


    “Yeah,” he murmured quietly, “I know. Let’s get to it.”


    Steeling himself, Romulus set off deeper into the city.