The North Gate was outfitted with an imposing portcullis that loomed overhead. I eyed the thick spikes cautiously, eager to move out of its potential drop zone as quickly as possible. Upon entering the gatehouse beyond, I struggled to stay calm as the intimidating structure’s white stone walls blocked much of the natural and magical light. Only the murder holes in the ceiling, as Vernie later identified them, allowed stray rays to penetrate the dim interior. The suffocating space was likewise unnaturally quiet despite its proximity to the bustling city, with only our footsteps filling the otherwise silent vacuum.

The crimson-clad corporal, who had steadfastly refused to give his name, shouted orders from behind our procession to open a set of large iron doors. The loud clanking of several chains echoed through the chamber as the massive doors groaned and creaked open just far enough for us to slip through in a single file. On the other side, the shimmering veil that separated Chairo from the rest of the world descended to a grassy courtyard, its visage sparkling within our very reach.

Several soldiers in red jerkins were lined up along the gossamer barrier, their eyes fixed on us as we each took our turn walking through the curtain. Relias and Prince Mito went first, followed by a few of our soldiers.

Next, it was my turn. I braced myself for some sort of reaction, expecting anything from a slight tingle to a full-on shock. However, I was met with hot disappointment as I felt nothing at all.

Weren't these things supposed to react to you, at least a little?

After passing through, I was greeted with the sounds and smells I had expected to encounter earlier: a large, busy city full of citizens shouting and carousing, the pleasant smell of food mingling with the not-so-pleasant scent of hard-working people, and a general background hum from the barrier that dampened all other noises too far off.

I turned, watching Nora proceed through the barrier with the same crestfallen look I was sure I had initially worn.

“Not even the slightest sting of static electricity,” she clucked softly in a sour tone.

However, the anticipated positive outcome was the absence of a physical reaction. Several guards visibly relaxed once our entire party cleared the barrier without issue.

“Keep moving,” the corporal ordered, obviously on the verge of losing his last nerve. “Take them to H7.”

"Yes, sir!" the soldier in the lead replied, heading for one of the slightly less-populated streets in the area.

We walked through the southern part of the Periphery, a bustling quarter crammed with several-story buildings, small parks on every corner, and scores of statues of voluptuous women, many of whom were making eyes at their chiseled Chad counterparts in equally revealing clothes.

At least none of these bear any resemblance to me.

“Shield your eyes! Don’t stare directly into the light,” the soldier in front yelled as he turned a corner, heading toward the outer wall where one of the gigantic rotating crystals in charge of keeping up the holy barrier was housed.

“This one’s in slow-down too, boss,” I heard a man say as we passed.

“Is it still within parameters?” a woman replied.

There was a long pause, and I couldn’t tell you what they were doing since I was busy trying to prevent temporary blindness. It was apparent we were going through a corner of the city that was otherwise unpopulated for obvious reasons.

“Well… yes, ma’am,” the man eventually answered. “But this would be the third one. At this rate of rotational decay, we’ll be looking at emergency maintenance on all affected crystals sometime in the middle of next week.

“That’s the beta team’s problem,” the woman scoffed. “We’re not supposed to do anything until a crystal falls below parameters.”

“But this trend would suggest—”

“Not our problem!” the woman reiterated. “Let’s move on!”

As I heard them shuffle away, the woman muttered, “Can’t even give us proper protective lenses. That’s what the betas get for treating us like second-class citizens.”

After rounding another corner, which thankfully cut off the source of irritating light, I tried to catch up with Nora, certain she had also heard the foreboding exchange.

“Back in line!” a soldier cried anxiously from the side. “Stay at least six feet apart!”

What other arbitrary rules were they going to make up as we went?

After winding through a few more narrow alleyways, we abruptly entered a grand courtyard of white marble. At its center was a large, circular array of intricate golden runes. Unlike its stark, silver counterpart we had encountered back in Kopria, this one felt alive with energy. The air around us sparkled with tiny flecks, illuminated by the magic circle's pulsing light.

A middle-aged priest, his back slightly hunched seemingly from the weight of his ornate vestments, stepped forward to speak with the corporal. The fine fabrics of his robes glinted in the light, adorned with intricate embroidery and a colorful array of beadwork. Almost on instinct, I glanced at Relias, noting his thinly veiled disapproval that was most likely related to the clergy’s choice of clothing.

“Destination?” the priest asked, making every effort not to look at the rest of us.

“Inner Sanctum Forums,” the corporal replied brusquely. “All of us.”

The priest’s eyes shifted from side to side as if looking for a covert signal. “I could have my associate transport all of you directly into the—”

“The Forums!” the corporal bellowed.

“The… Forums then, just as ordered.” Contaminated by the rudely issued command, the priest turned to a woman in black robes standing behind the circle and began to shout, “You heard him, Dark Mage! Forums! Now!”

All sorts of terrible things roll downhill, don’t they?

The woman started to shake as she nervously bowed to her handler. “Y-yes, Your Reverence! Adjusting coordinates to D4!” She raised her hands, and the gold runes shifted into a bluish, then green light. “Please step into the circle, honored guests!”

Although it was meant as a compliment, I couldn't help but feel that “honored guests” would win the award for ‘most inaccurate description of our group ever.’ We shuffled reluctantly into the circle, the edges of our clothes starting to float upwards.

“For those who have never translocated before,” the dark mage announced. “It is recommended that you close your eyes for the duration of travel. You may open them when your feet are planted solidly on the ground. Please be assured that slight dizziness and mild nausea may be a temporary side effect that should last no longer than five minutes. If you experience prolonged symptoms, please speak with the priest at your destination.”

What, no liability waiver to sign?

Maybe you don’t need ones for obvious traps.

I kept glancing at Relias, hoping his body language would indicate everything was happening within the expected parameters. Unlike the woman we encountered by the crystal, I like to avoid emergencies whenever possible!

His Holiness finally caught my pleading gaze and nodded briefly before taking a deep breath, closing his eyes serenely. I exhaled and shamelessly copied him, hoping I would be spared the side effects just listed.

What they don’t tell you about translocating is that you lose all sense of direction. I’m not referring to the cardinal points on a compass; I write of the complete and utter disregard of gravity. Imagine you are a gyroscope constantly in motion, looking for your stability point, which no longer exists, and you have no way to align yourself with ‘this end up.’ Temporary side effects lasting five minutes? That’s not taking into account how long it takes for you to regain a sense of time itself!

I will admit… I peeked. I saw a twisted tunnel of fused rainbows spinning and whirling around me. I could only stand the sight for a few seconds, so I have no idea if the colors kaleidoscoped into one another or if the scene was fated to shift again as we traveled through what I assumed was subspace.

When my feet did find the ground, I counted to ten before opening my eyes, letting the contents of my stomach settle… well, back into my stomach. Faintly hopeful I wasn’t about to throw up, I lifted my head and surveyed our final destination.

We were in the inert magic circle at the end of the Forums, where a long, wide thoroughfare that stretched from our feet to the spiraling high temple, the tallest point in all of Chairo. On either side of the vast lane were long, rectangular pools fed by fountains depicting statues of… well, different versions of me, I guess. There were three on each side, and no two were the same. Some were short, some were tall, but none were exact copies. Only five of the six had swords and shields, with the last one most likely representing Raela, the first of us supposedly innocent of sin. The lack of a seventh statue signified that these figures were likely commissioned posthumously–with their death verified.

Several priests of varying ranks were gathered around the steps leading down to those pools, their vestments differing in decoration. They appeared quite relaxed, many lounging about with goblets of wine while others sent servants to bring them grapes and cheese. Of course, they were protected by an entire contingent of red-clad soldiers, their shields deployed and swords at the ready.

Two mid-level bosses and an unwilling minion had set up shop at a vast podium just in front of the closed entrance to the high temple. In the middle, Councilman Pravum stood at the ready, his silver hair pulled back severely into a man-bun and his gold robe appearing quite garish due to the lack of any contrasting materials. To his right stood the very definition of a crown prince, his head adorned with the first part of his title. It was as if I was looking at King Saulus himself from forty years in the past—a blonde-haired, blue-eyed upstart with a chiseled chin and condescending gaze. As if on cue, I heard Prince Mito hiss in surprise at his brother, who responded with nothing more than an oily smirk.

The last man at the lectern was trying his best to hide behind the two, obviously wanting no part in the proceedings but commandeered precisely for that. He was a young man in humble robes, burdened with a tripod containing a large parchment, on which he was likely ordered to scribe the outcome of whatever was about to happen. A monocle was affixed to his right eye, which he nervously adjusted every five seconds like clockwork. When he wasn’t doing that, he ran his hands against his tightly tied, long, jet-black hair as if fearing he would be punished should one strand fall out of place.

"Welcome to the Forums," Councilman Pravum announced from his podium before looking off to either side. "General Assembly, do I have your permission to proceed with the trial of Holy Sage Relias?"

"Hear, hear!" the priests shouted sloppily in unison, holding their chalices aloft in total mockery of what I could only assume passed for the judicial process here in Speranza.