16th of Late Noon. 10 201st year of the Golden Dragon.

  They left their cliffside cave only an hour later and, as Ivor had promised, they made it to Volun in a little over six cycles. Apparently, Gareth had fallen so far down the cliff that he had been near the bottom.

  Ever since that first day on the cliffs Gareth had noticed the everpresent clouds. When he fell into said clouds he became intimately aware of the the fuck-off massive storm. Then when he woke up, he noticed it was still raining.

  He therefore asked Ivor if it was the rainy season but had only gotten a calm shake of the head, "The Volunites call it the Everstorm for a reason. Since the city's founding nearly 250 years ago, the number of times it has not rained can be counted on one hand. And even then, it only stopped raining for a few hours. Get used to being wet, Gareth Elson." He laughed as he jumped over a small stream, Gareth clinging to his back like a spidermonkey, and couldn't help but cringe.

  As they travelled Ivor taught him more about the natural landscape around Volun, what to look for, what to avoid, and some of the downright mental things you could do as a cultivator.

  Due to Shekaron's chaotic influence on the land, ancient ruins and labyrinths would sometimes be revealed after centuries of being six feet under. These ruins always contained treasures that would give someone enough bank to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. They also just had a bunch of monsters and wicked traps that would ice some poor pencil pusher looking for ancient artefacts.

  A potential source of revenue once I get stronger? -- Gareth thought.

  Ivor Hansen explained the following: “There are three types of people that frequented Volun.

  #1: By far the largest group are Adventurers guild members who compete in the arena and complete tasks that the city needs handled.

  #2: Freelancers, the second largest group, have no direct allegiance to any of the other two factions. They are your merchants and crafters.

  Then finally:

  #3: Military members that do the bulk of protecting the city and surrounding areas.

  Freelancers are beholden to no one, but they also do not receive any support from anyone. This group contains the nobles, merchants, sects, alchemists, enchanters, bladesmiths, and largely any person that has no direct vested interest in Volun’s success. They are forbidden from leaving the city at Night and must pay pretty heavy taxes on any treasures or resources they find in the wild. They spend most of their time performing tasks like plying their profession or fighting in the Arena. The main reason why someone would want to be a freelancer was because they wouldn’t be compelled, by law, to aid in the protection of the city if it was under attack. They could hole up and only protect their property.” Ivor showed a hint of disgust in his tone, but not enough for Gareth to think this was a powerful opinion.

  “Adventure guild members form the second group of people. Volun is a marquis, which means it needs a lot of business done daily. The normal population and military, as small a population as it is, just don’t have time to deal with everything. That is were the Adventurers guild comes in handy. They complete a large range of duties for the city. Ranging from common monster bounties, closing rifts, stopping rift breaks, culling the local Beast population, all the way to finding lost cats, or just lifting heavy things.”

  Ivor mentioned that the Arena played a large role in the city because the adventurers with the highest rank in the arena were allowed to pick-and-choose whichever contract they wanted – within a certain arena ranking. They weren’t taxed by the city but had to pay a tithe to the guild, and the guild was then taxed by the city.

  “If the city was attacked, they must aid in the protection of the city to a limited degree. Like kill beasts that made it past the walls, put out fires, and generally protect the freelancers. Based on their adventure rank, arena ranking, as well as their level, they could purchase items from a guild-exclusive shop. Unlike the normal citizens, who could not go out at night, the adventure guild is divided into two sections:Yè zhī shǒuhù zhě, or Guardians of the Night. As well as Báirì zhànshì or Day Guard. Those who specialise in nocturnal combat, and those who fight during the day."

  The day finally came when Volun entered their view, and what a sight it was.

  Towering scaled stone walls, nearly two hundred and fifty feet tall, kept the interior hidden. All except for a truly colossal pine tree peaking over the wall and spearing proudly into the cloud cover above.

  They rushed along, rain splashing around a spherical shield that Ivor conjured using a skill, when Gareth asked over Ivor's shoulder, "What's with the big tree?" Almost having to shout over the rushing air.

  Ivor didn’t slow down in the slightest.

  "It is the Volun city tree this one told you about!" Ivor shouted.

  Apparently that was enough explanation because he didn't say anything else, "What does it do?!"

  "It releases an aura that warns away beasts weaker than itself… Protects the city!"

  The tree strongly resembled a pine tree, if said pine was more than three hundred meters tall, glowed green, had specks of bright white light flitting all around it, and had large globules of water undulating between its branches. It looked as if someone had an infinite Christmas budget, and had the imagination of a five-year-old. Fantastical to the extreme.

  Buildings that resembled hammocks were strung within its branches, but Gareth couldn't make out much more than that through the thick rainfall.

  All of a sudden, and for the first time in years, they stepped onto a road. It was such a simple thing, this stone road. Built to transport people from one place to another. But to Gareth it was the first tangible civilisation that he had seen in years.

  His heart ached and his eyes teared up. His lips trembled and he tucked his face to his chest, hoping Ivor wouldn’t see his shame.

  There had always been the small fear that Ivor was just another cruel trick of Ian. That he wasn't taking him to a civilised city, but to just another one of Ian's facilities.

  This road was tangible proof that he was going back to people that wouldn't treat him like a plaything. He might be going to a society that would protect him, give him a home, make him feel wanted and valued.

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  Tears freely streamed down his face as a ragged sob tore itself from his tight throat. He did not want to seem weak in front of Ivar but the palpable relief he felt forced his body to disobey his mind. His stomach muscles spasmed and he tried to force back the wails that wanted to burst from his chest.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched onto Ivor ever tighter, desperately using him as a lifeline so as to not fall apart.

  Without a word Ivor Hansen gradually came to a stop on the side of the quiet road. He gently pried Gareth's weak arms from around his neck and had him stand on his own.

  Ivor had supported his own son when he had gone through the rough parts of his Dao, he knew what to do.

  He gently took Gareth by the shoulders, and guided him into a firm hug.

  Gareth could hear his steady heart. He could feel the strength in his arms. He felt small and yet the road which he stood upon was firm, the embrace he felt was supportive. He felt safe.

  For but a second, Gareth remained standing before the strength in his legs gave way and he desperately clung onto Ivor, as he finally let out the mournful wracking sobs he couldn't contain any longer.

  Ivor held him up. Ivor supported him like the father he wished he had.

  Memories of the past resurfaced. Gareth's dad leading him into an alley one cold, hungry, winter night. The soft tap of Gareth's numb bare feet on tarmac, the trump of his father's industrial boots.

  The soft click of a lever being pulled back. The cacophony of sensation as a bullet, sound, and heartbreak tore through his being. His own father shot him in the back, and for what? Because “there were too many mouths to feed!?”

  And then he had to work off the medical debt placed on him!?

  Rage, bitterness, and grief jolted his body like lightning. A potentially pleasant life… lost. He had no more control of his tears than he did the forceful remembrance of his betrayal.

  They stood in that same position for what must have been hours. Ivor holding up the desperately sobbing Gareth, uncaring of the people walking by and into the city. He rubbed Gareth's back consolingly the entire time, not saying a word because nothing he could ever say would console the broken man he held.

  Eventually a cold, numb feeling replaced the pain in Gareth's chest. He had cried himself out.

  He gently pushed on Ivor's waist and wiped his teary eyes and snotty nose.

  Ivor's camo green robe was covered in snot and tears, but the solid guy didn't seem to mind.

  He looked into those kind jade eyes and saw only sombre empathy, "We will repose here, to rest."

  They were less than a kilometer away from the city, but Gareth knew he wouldn't cope with walking into a new place; being surrounded by crowds, meeting new people.

  I'm being stupid. We're so close to the city that we might as well push this last little bit – Gareth wanted to reason. But Gareth nonetheless helped Ivor set up camp.

  Sitting on a small camp stool, Ivor wordlessly handed Gareth a cup of fresh herbal tea.

  No words were said that night, they would speak of it later. But now was Gareth's time of grieving his lost innocence and slowly trying to piece himself together again.

  The next morning, with Sol having moved little more than a millimetre across the sky -- Gareth was guessing -- they set off for the last little stint before reaching the city.

  Ivor elected that he would not carry him the last bit. He would instead, as a symbol of making it back to safety, walk the last kilometer himself.

  As they walked along the stone path, small parties of people in extremely diverse clothing walked past. It was as if a central fashion did not exist. People in heavy armour, light armour, and no armour whatsoever walked past.

  There were mostly people in some manner of robe/gi, but even then the cuts were diverse, the patterns mirroring scenes of nature. Some guys wore robes like Ivor, that tightened at the wrist and ankle. The chicks, each of them gorgeous in their own way, wore some manner of Chinese robe looking thing, with an underlayer of neutral colours that complemented the colour scheme, while simultaneously being long enough to protect their modesty. These chicks look kinda uptight, he thought to himself. But at the same time...alluring, in an elegant way.

  Then there were the rarer, yet most contrasted group of people, metal armour wearers.

  Of those fully covered with metal from head to toe, there were two groups: those who looked good, and those whose armour served a purpose.

  The first was an extreme in the ‘white knight’ stereotype, with shiny metal plates etched with flowing patterns that complimented the interlocking plates and their mobility. They fit as a second skin and looked really cool. The second group actually used their armour for its intended purpose. This is not to say their armour was not well-maintained, but matte silver-grey was the norm. It was not polished to a sheen because these people knew they would need to sand off the scratches they would inevitably accumulate on their adventures. They knew they were going to be hit, while the others used their armour as a status symbol.

  The full-plate people were rare, but enough to notice.

  Then there were those with a mixture of cloth armour and metal. Often less ostentatious than the extreme examples of full-metal and full-cloth, these people seemed the middle class.

  It seems Ivor's protection against rain was not unique, as every party had the same sphere of transparent colour protecting their dryness.

  They nodded their heads as Gareth passed, everyone seeming respectful either because it was part of the custom or because Ivor was someone they recognised.

  When Gareth pointed it out, Ivor explained that they did not personally know him, they just sensed his cultivation and knew to respect him.

  On this cloudy, rainy day, the imposing walls would have normally cast harsh shadows across the large gates but it was brightly lit with torches casting an eerie blue light.

  The gates were ten meter tall monstrosities of metal and wood, but nevertheless looked tiny compared to the titanic walls. Black iron spikes protruded from the reinforced steel sections, adding to the utterly intimidating air it gave off. The wood was wet from all the rain, but had obviously been treated, leaving the wood black and peaty.

  Ten large circular holes of mysterious purpose were about five meters higher up on the wall of each gate. Far above, only heavily obscured by the rain, could he see faint blue torches from where guards must have been stationed.

  There were no guards outside the gates, but there was definitely the feeling of being watched. I just can’t figure out from where...

  He cautiously looked around as they entered, only once they were inside and under the cover of the tunnel leading through the thick wall did he see the guards.

  Gothic and tribal blue and green mage lamps/torches lined the thirty meter long tunnel. While stationed near the entrance were six guards in thick metal plate armour that was elaborately etched, but extremely efficient and sleek in design. Made of an unknown type of metal that gleamed in the torchlight, their helmets somewhat obscured their faces and kept their expressions a secret. They stood sentinel behind two other guards, armored much lighter and with their faces fully visible. They visibly recognised Ivor.

  Traffic was light so the cue to enter the city was relatively short, only a ten minute wait, but Gareth was already feeling the strain in his weak body.

  When they reached the front, the two guards who did the actual inspection hurriedly bowed low at the waist, "First ranger Ivor Hansen, this one greets senior." They chorussed together.

  "This one greets junior brothers." Ivor said and gave a shallow bow back.

  "Senior, please present your Identity slip." The left guard said after they had straightened from their bow. He took one step forward and waited patiently as Ivor grabbed a thin jade tablet from his spatial ring and presented it to the guard.

  The guard pulled out his own, slightly thicker jade tablet and pressed it against Ivor's.

  Nothing seemed to happen but the guard seemed satisfied, because he handed the slip back with both hands and a slight bow, "Your identity is confirmed senior, would your companion likewise present their slip?"

  Panic surged in Gareth's heart but Ivor seemed prepared for this as he interjected before Gareth could say anything, "This young one was found in the wilds, he does not yet possess an identity slip. It is this one's plan to rectify this as soon as possible within the city."

  The guards looked at each other, as if this didn't happen often, but the lead guard just bowed once again, "Very well, senior. But we will have to verify whether he has obtained a slip within two days."

  Ivor nodded, "Perfectly acceptable, you will find him...at the Black keep."