The center of the Empire, in the past...

Like most big cities, the capital of the Empire was built along a river, the Crowned, and the great lake called The Throned, flowing through a broad river valley. The fields around here were the best in the Empire, if not the world, and upon the combined bounty of river, lake, and fields, the foundation of the Empire had been laid.

Mines upstream had yielded a wealth of iron and copper, and upon those two metals the city of Zynozure, the Center of the Rose and the Cross, had risen, and the Rosencrux Empire had begun, over a thousand years ago.

The high walls of gray stone looked impressive from the distance, the circles of the city rising slowly, each level built up higher than the ones below, until the Imperial Palace towered on the highest point of the city, none able to match it.

By Imperial Fiat, no building in the city could rise higher than the walls of the level above.

Raising the levels and adding a new one was an expression of the might of the Empire. The stone was literally heaved forth and upwards out of the ground by a massive Ritual, displaying the magical might of the entire Empire as it did so. Each level lifted the ground of the new Circle a hundred feet, and this had been done nine times. With its elegant spires and towers reaching up to nearly four hundred paces, the pale red Imperial Palace of the Rose was a thousand feet in the sky, forever the tallest structure in the city, with its foundation reaching down who knew how far into the risen depths.

A rose atop a mountain, flowering cold, alone, and mighty, someone had described it, and Errant found the description apt.

It had been centuries since another Circle had been raised, and the city now sprawled for miles along the shores of the lake and river. The Rose had been built upon an island at the mouth of the Crowned, and as the Circles rose, they expanded out and past the shores of the river to either side, basically forming a mountain across the mouth of the great river. Great arched channels flowed underneath the Circles, taller than the greatest of ships, not impeding the flow of the river. They extended higher than the Ninth Ring, halfway into the eighth, and thus separated the classes yet further as the River cut the Ninth Ring apart.

The primary means of crossing the Crowned was The Soaring, the great bridge that crossed underneath the Rose, and formed the Cross with the Crowning that supported the Empire.

From here the power of the empire flowed, out to the four Marches, the Kingdoms founded by Zynosure, the Center, to ward it from all sides. Wealth flowed into the center of the cross, and power flowed out from the rose.

So it had been for a thousand years.

But now, the roots of the rose were dying; the soil was bad, and the sun was no longer shining upon the center. Bad things were coming; he could hear the ominous notes behind the whispers at his ear.

It was the perfect place for a Heavenbound to be.

Errant smiled to himself and continued walking forwards. His eyes would mark him, of course. There was no magic that could hide the Sign once it manifested, so he didn’t bother to do so. If trouble happened... well, that’s what Heavenbound were there to do; attract trouble, so other people didn’t have to.

Not that most people would be stupid enough to mess with a Heavenbound directly. While some of his kind served relatively passive roles, those duties were generally left to Clerics or the like. Warlocks were bound to the Heavenly Hosts, not the gods, and the job of the Hosts was to fight.

So... he was going to find some other folk who liked to fight!

A smile on his face, and ignoring the many curious gazes of passers-by as he stepped along his way, Errant continued on.

----------

The Tenth Circle (frequently addended ‘of Hell’) was naturally where the poorest members of the capital’s society lived, along with most of its traders and factories... especially the smelly and loud ones that might annoy the wealthy.

There were no walls around the landbound portion of the capital, so technically the residents here weren’t natives of Zynozure at all. Of course, that didn’t stop them from claiming so, as they were obviously blessed to live at the heart of the great Empire, and what did a mere outlander know?

Errant found their pride a little funny, as they seemed to think that being a Zynozure native meant they could lord it over a rube, meaning anyone NOT from the capital... except maybe a noble who could slaughter them on the spot for something.

However, anyone seeing his silver eyes tended to clamp up quick whenever he met their gazes, as you just didn’t mess around with anyone showing Sign, Good or Bad or Whatever. So, asking directions wasn’t all that hard as the people found their good manners after only a second or two of inbuilt arrogance. He proceeded down the tiled roads, looking around and painting the streets and city into his Visual File casually, just like a rubbernecking tourist, encouraging those following him to act upon their motivations.

There was a run at his Disk, a little diversion to hide an attack from behind, multiple people collapsing from multiple directions... and then a Wall of Fire swallowed them all and burned them into ash rather quickly.

He kept walking on, letting their less flammable belongings fall to the street behind him, and the beggar children pounced on them quickly. He motioned one of them over, and whispered in his ear. The ragged boy grinned and took off.

He was attacked twice more within fifteen minutes by street gangs who thought he was an easy mark, and the boy and his friends collected more goodies and got rid of some bullies at the same time. Win-win all around.

----

The Tenth Circle sprawled out for miles. It was hardly a circle, more a bunch of neighborhoods, towns, and villages that had grown together over centuries, and integrated only under the relentless pressure of populations that wanted to move ever onwards and upwards. Different races and ethnicities staked out their own locations in the lower city, sometimes mixing, sometimes not, giving it both energy and drive... and depression and a sense of ancient sloth, bred into the bones, as if nothing had changed while they lived, and wouldn’t change for all their lives.

Such an atmosphere was naturally fertile ground for all sorts of things. However, things like innovation, invention, empathy, and brotherhood were naturally preyed upon by those mercilessly seeking any means of getting ahead in life, or maintaining their grip on power by any means against the cruel hands clawing at them from below. So, what grew here tended to be in the Grey... and the most ambitious and relentless of those naturally got darker still.

He had the Eyes of Heaven up at Five, easily piercing most minor Divination Wards, and every Evil Aura within sixty paces and not behind walls was coming up very clearly, giving him a pretty detailed view of who his potential opponents were. At Five, he could maintain it without concentration, and was actually sensitive to Sin itself, not just the Evil it left behind. Feeling those who thought about killing him as soon as they saw him was very useful, after all.

Just about everyone was wondering how to take advantage of him, except those who knew what Silver Sign actually meant, and those either kept a low profile or directly and discretely got out of his line of sight when they saw it. He marked faces in passing, knowing they’d be whispering and word would be passing.

The Church of Imprus had successfully pushed Harse out of the higher Circles, but getting rid of the fairest church in the land, their grip on the courts and influence on laws, was proving more difficult. While Trose was attempting to take away their banking business in addition, the fact was merchants who could deal with the Church of Harse were an elite and trustworthy lot, and gaining that recognition was worth a lot in certain circles. Too, the Goddess of Wealth and Trade’s clerics were often pretty ruthless merchants and traders themselves, often direct competitors of other faithful, who preferred not to entrust their funds to them... or might run off with their money if it were loaned to them.

Lastly, Harse was the Judge of the Living AND the Dead, and so presided over many, many funeral arrangements in the city, especially for those who could afford no other and had to be consigned to the vivic flames to avoid undeath. Combined with their handling so many estates in a fair and above-board manner, and there was simply no way to truly run them out of the city, only deny them direct access to the highest levels of power.

So, Harse’s presence endured in the city. The ivory coin that denoted their mercantile side was more trusted than the gold coin of Trose by the common folk, and woe to the moneychanger or lender who used it falsely...

----------

The man was thin, with a nose like a hawk, his hair going white, and bent fingers on his left hand, as if they’d been broken and reset improperly at some point. His tunic, shirt, and trousers bore gold thread, but they were a bit shiny from wear; bought for good coin, but held long past their fashionable date. The mark of a man who had money, knew what he had to spend it on, and was thrifty enough still to not give a damn about not wasting it on frippery.

Errant sat down across from him, having already procured a bottle of wine, and setting it on the table before the man could order.

Dark eyes looked over the young nobleman, and fixed on the silver eyes in mild disbelief. “My business is closed, Heavenbound, and you’ve no truck with me.” He picked up the bottle of wine, made an approving face. “You’ve good taste, at least.”

“I come by it naturally,” Errant laughed, snapping his fingers, and a swirl of golden flame circled and went away. The man betrayed no surprise at all, gesturing for a waiter. Errant listened to him order a dish appropriate for the wine, indicated he would have the same, and directly flipped out a gold coin to pay for it all. Eyes shining, their waiter hurried away.

“One of the cooks is a cultist of an Elder God,” Errant noted politely, the Sound Bubble from Grace rising and cutting off other conversations, along with any chance of them being overheard. “Do you eat here on purpose?”

“He just started. I have certain interested parties watching him and seeing who he talks to,” the moneylender admitted. “Very astute. Why are you here, Heavenbound? I am only a lay priest of Harse, not one of His divine servants.”

“I was hoping you could help me deliver a letter,” Errant said calmly, taking it out and sliding it across to him. The older man opened it up, eyed the name of a certain Inquisitor in Colamn, and the various symbols that had been crossed off within.

All of them.

“You are looking for work?” the moneylender asked him directly.

“I like to keep busy. I believe that you are capable of keeping me busy without violating my Oath, and my talents might be useful to you.”

The older man considered him carefully. “Heavenbound are generally used best as open fighters, given how flashy your Pact is. The work of the Inquisition often requires a much more subtle hand.”

“I am the Phantom of Gulder,” Errant said plainly, and the moneylender actually blinked. “Do not repeat that without my leave.”

“Well. Well, well, well...” the moneylender murmured, trailing off. “Quite a record of thefts and heists you’ve pulled off, then. Your reputation has even spread to the city here...”

“I was unwilling to show my Sign until I was ready, and so subtler means were called for. Usage of my Pact was very limited.”

“That is... very interesting...” the Inquisitorial agent murmured, looking at the young Heavenbound in front of him thoughtfully. “What sort of things are you looking to do, young man?”

“Punish those wreaking Evil in whatever way will hurt them the worst. I can do violence, I can do stealth, and I can even do surveillance, although it is not my focus. Warlocks are meant to be active, not passive, after all.” Errant’s reply was brief and clipped. “Also, if you could arrange for additional introductions to the Order of the Ruby Heart, I am seeking to get knighted there. I understand they have the highest Circle access of the remaining devout knightly Orders.”

“The Order owes us a favor or two, and admitting a knight aspirant whose credentials are adequate should not be a problem, particularly a Heavenbound. We don’t get too many of them in Zynozure... and they don’t tend to last long when they come here.”

Errant smiled widely. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

The man harrumphed, and then his weathered face split into a knowing smile. “Well, then, how familiar are you with the city?”

“I’ve just gotten here from Gulder. Not familiar at all,” Errant admitted.

“Very good. The city’s Wards don’t extend out here; any that are in effect are privately set up and maintained. Familiarize yourself with the Tenth’s layout, structure, and fine points, and meet me back here tomorrow at this time. I’ll have your invitation to the Ruby Heart.”

“Excellent.” Errant gestured at the bottle he’d brought. “You seem like a connoisseur. Have you a favorite vintage?”

The man’s dark eyes lit up. “Oh, you’ve a tongue for wine? I admit to favoring that Kalden icewine for some damn reason, but I’ve drank stuff from one end of the Empire to the other. This is a decent vintage from Vyster, favored in the Northern Court?...”

Errant let the Sound Bubble fall, and the rest of their conversation was as normal as could be.