Legacy's Wake

The men in the pub, rough as they seemed, carried a quiet respect for Yipsiv. Many of them looked up to him, their grins fading into sheepish glances as he strode through the room, commanding their attention without a word. It was clear they didn't just follow him—they wanted to be like him.

Yipsiv stopped at the bar, leaning one elbow on the counter and flashing the bartender an easy, lopsided grin. "Well now, how 'bout I settle up for that Caphast's drink? Fella's got business to tend to, reckon he don't need the likes of us slowin' him down. What do ya say?"

The bartender caught the coin the Caphast had left behind, tossing it up and down in his hand with a smirk. After a moment, he let out a long, theatrical sigh, setting his towel down on the counter with deliberate care.

"Yer money, Yipsiv. Guess if anyone's gonna patch the hole, might as well be you. Just don't let me end the night countin' coppers short, or I'll have the boss threatenin' to string me up like yesterday's laundry."

Yipsiv chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pulled a few coins from his pocket. "Don't you worry none," he said with a wink, sliding the payment across the counter. "You keep pourin', I'll keep us square. Fair deal?"

The bartender gave him a curt nod, scooping up the coins. "Fair as a summer sky, Yipsiv," he muttered, returning to polishing his mugs as Yipsiv tipped his hat and turned back to the crowd, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Some hours of wandering the streets.

The Caphast strode through the bustling streets, his every step drawing curious eyes. Whispers rippled through the crowd like the wind through tall grass, as townsfolk peered out from behind curtains or leaned over balconies. His strange attire—a clash of rugged practicality and eccentric flair—made him stand out even among the city's eclectic residents.

He kept his gaze locked on the weathered paper in his hand, his fingers brushing its edges as though it might disappear if he let go. The din of the street—hawkers calling out their wares, the clatter of carts on cobblestones, and the hum of voices—seemed to fade into the background. His mind was fixed elsewhere.

As he came to the base of a long, winding staircase leading upward to the city's central hub, he paused, letting out a low sigh.

"Delivering messages and mystery boxes sure wasn't on my list of life ambitions," he muttered to himself, his voice dry with sarcasm. "And here I am, carrying a casket to someone I don't even know. Could be the Governor, could be a ghost for all I care."

He lifted his head, letting his gaze drift beyond the stairs to the sprawling street above. It was a wide, well-constructed plaza that stretched like a crown over the rest of the city. The architecture there spoke of wealth and influence, with an imposing abode at the center that seemed to beckon him forward.

"Guess that's the best bet," he murmured, adjusting the box under his arm. He took one last look at the street behind him before steeling himself for the climb ahead. With slow, deliberate steps, he began his ascent, the box and letter feeling heavier with each stride.

Amidst the bustling crowd, a woman with striking white hair stood still, her sharp eyes tracking the Caphast's every move. There was something about him—something familiar—but the connection remained just out of her grasp. She furrowed her brow, tilting her head slightly as if trying to recall a half-forgotten memory.

"That man's got my curiosity," she muttered under her breath. Her fingers toyed with the edges of a folded bounty poster in her hand, one that bore the unmistakable face of Yipsiv. "What's a Caphast doing wandering these streets without a real purpose?"

Her gaze didn't waver as she folded the poster neatly and tucked it into her worn leather purse. The crowd moved around her like a river splitting around a stone, but she stood rooted, watching as the Caphast paused at the foot of the grand staircase.

When she noticed his eyes lift toward the upper city, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Headed to the upper levels, is he?" she mused quietly. "Wonder if he's even got the sense to bring an access card. Doesn't strike me as the type to have the right papers on hand."

She considered the idea for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe he's some fancy guest for the feast tonight," she murmured. "But if that's the case, he's got a strange way of dressin'. They won't let him past the first gate lookin' like that."

Her eyes followed him as he began to climb, and something told her there was more to this man than he let on. She adjusted her purse and stepped closer, as though debating whether to follow him or let him find trouble on his own.

As the Caphast reached the final step of the staircase, he paused and let his eyes wander over the scene that unfolded before him. The upper city stretched out like a dream, its centerpiece a grand estate bathed in the soft golden glow of ornate lampposts and flickering lanterns.

The palace itself stood as a masterpiece of classical design, with towering domes and arched windows that glimmered under the starry sky. Intricate stone carvings adorned the facade, giving the structure an air of timeless elegance. Decorative columns framed the massive entrance, where elegantly dressed guests filtered in and out, their laughter and chatter drifting faintly through the crisp night air.

Surrounding the palace was a sprawling, meticulously arranged garden. Paths of polished stone wove through lush greenery, leading to statues of marble and bronze that stood like silent guardians. Flower beds in full bloom splashed color across the scene, their petals illuminated by the warm light of lampposts that lined every walkway.

At the heart of it all was a grand fountain, its cascading waters shimmering under the moonlight. The fountain stood encircled by a ring of vibrant flowers, their sweet scent carried on the gentle breeze. A few guests lingered nearby, their fine attire glinting with embellishments of gold and silver as they spoke in hushed, animated tones.

The Caphast lingered at the top of the staircase, taking it all in. It was a stark contrast to the loud and gritty streets he had just left behind. The opulence and refinement of this place were almost otherworldly, a gilded cage masking whatever secrets lay within.

"Fancy," he muttered to himself, adjusting the casket under his arm. His gaze lingered on the crowd for a moment, then shifted toward the palace entrance. "Hope they're not expectig me to dress for the occasion."

With a deep breath, he stepped forward, weaving his way through the garden's winding paths. Each step drew him closer to the palace and to whatever answers—or trouble—awaited inside.

The Caphast wandered deeper into this new, dazzling world, following the path laid out by the letter clenched tightly in his hand. He'd never seen anything like it before. Each step through the grand abode felt like stepping into a storybook—ornate towers loomed high into the night sky, their bells silent but casting long, majestic shadows over the grounds. The estate's architecture spoke of unimaginable wealth and influence, its intricate stonework glowing softly in the light spilling from countless arched windows.

At the farthest edge of the abode, the path ended before a massive structure—its presence commanding and almost cathedral-like. The building had multiple high-end towers, their spires crowned with shimmering bells. These towers framed the central hall, whose tall, arched entrance radiated warm light and the faint hum of music and laughter.

The Caphast's eyes narrowed as he spotted movement near the door—a man, sharply dressed in dark formalwear, stood by the entrance. His stance was straight and firm, a quiet authority emanating from him. He appeared to be some sort of gatekeeper, scanning each approaching figure with an air of expectation.

The Caphast's steps slowed as he neared, allowing himself a glance through the tall, illuminated windows. Inside, a scene of sheer extravagance unfolded. A grand ballroom stretched out, its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers that sparkled like constellations, casting a golden glow over everything below.

The polished wooden floor reflected the glow of the chandeliers, adding a surreal shimmer to the room. Pairs of dancers swirled gracefully to the rhythm of a waltz, their movements as elegant as their attire. Women in elaborate gowns with intricate embroidery twirled alongside men in formal suits with tails, their every gesture practiced and poised. The edges of the ballroom were crowded with finely dressed guests, sipping drinks and chatting animatedly, their laughter blending seamlessly with the music.

The Caphast tore his gaze away, his fingers tightening slightly around the letter. "Well," he muttered to himself, "this isn't exactly the kind of place I expected. Fancy people and shiny floors. Least I know the poor people don't dress like those outside."

He adjusted the box under his arm and approached the man at the entrance, stopping a few paces away. The man's eyes flicked toward him, sharp and assessing, before glancing at the Caphast's rugged clothes and the unusual case he carried.

"Evening." the Caphast said simply, tipping his head slightly. "I believe I've got an appointment."

The man arched a brow, his expression giving away nothing. "And who, exactly, might you be?" His voice was calm, professional, but edged with suspicion.

The Caphast tapped the letter with his free hand. "I've got this here note. Says I'm supposed to hand something over. Figured this would be the place."

The man's eyes dropped to the letter, lingering on it for a moment before meeting the Caphast's gaze again. His demeanor remained unreadable, but he stepped aside, motioning toward the grand doors.

"Proceed," he said curtly. "But keep your business quick. You'll find no patience here for anyone out of place."

With a nod, the Caphast stepped forward, his boots clicking softly on the polished stone as he approached the glowing ballroom. The sound of the music swelled as he crossed the threshold, and he couldn't help but feel like he'd just entered an entirely different area.

To be continued...