159 Royal Capital

The toll gate loomed ahead like the open jaws of some ancient beast, wooden teeth splintered and iron hinges rusted by centuries of weather. Dozens of travelers clustered around the entrance from merchants with mule carts, cloaked wanderers, a few armored guards, and even one towering man whose skin flickered with dull embers like a dying forge. It was surreal to see individuals with cape-like powers dressed in ragged tunics and chainmail, walking alongside peasants barefoot in the dust.

Dr. Time wasn’t with us. He claimed he had “business elsewhere,” which probably meant he was off meddling with another timeline or poking at someone’s fate. The favor he asked of killing a “mundane royal” hung over us like a storm cloud neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

We passed through the gate without trouble. Amelia kept her hood up, her bow strapped behind her, quiver tight against her hip. I still found the whole medieval arrangement strange, especially the sword hanging at my waist. I ran a thumb along the hilt, still unused to its weight. The blade wasn’t necessary for me, but Amelia insisted. “Blend in,” she said. “People here don’t walk around unarmed.”

“Should we look for an inn?” I asked once we had cleared the crowd. The city spread before us, filled with stone houses, muddy roads, banners fluttering in the wind, smithies ringing like alarm bells, and too many soldiers for my liking. “Or we just sleep on a rooftop and hope no one stabs us in our sleep?”

“Let’s go to an inn,” Amelia decided as she scanned the streets. “There should be a cheap one nearby. I asked around.”

We found one two streets down, squeezed between a tannery and a baker’s shop. The signboard was crooked, painted with what looked like an eel but might have been a dragon if the artist had squinted hard enough. Inside, the air smelled of ale, wood smoke, and too many sweaty adventurer-types.

Rumors drifted everywhere from whispers of warring states in the north, villages being burned, mercenaries selling their strength to the highest bidder, and refugees overflowing the borders. The chaos was spreading like wildfire. Amelia paid for a single room so we could save money, and then ordered lunch.

We took a corner table away from the loudest groups. I tugged at my shirt again, hating how the coarse linen scratched against my skin.

“I’ll never get used to this fabric,” I muttered. “Feels like sandpaper pretending to be clothing. So, what’s the plan?”

“I was hoping you had one,” Amelia replied as she adjusted her quiver. “You’re the one with experience.”

“Not with this.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “Look, I usually leave intel work to others. And I’ve only done… about a dozen assassinations. Total. And those were under surveillance, strict parameters, and modern tech support. Also, are we sure it’s a good idea to discuss this so openly? Half the people here are armed. Why does everyone in this world carry a sword?”

“Because this is the Dark Ages,” she said. “Sort of.”

Before I could complain further, a waitress arrived with two plates of stew and bread. She set them down and smiled brightly.

“Oh, sir,” she said to me, “haven’t you heard?”

I blinked. “…Heard what?”

“The royal prince is preparing for an expedition to subjugate a dragon.”

I sighed into my stew. A dragon. Really? What kind of fantasy development was that supposed to be? No way it was an actual dragon. More likely, some mutated beast or biological weapon that drifted into this world. Still, I couldn’t deny it piqued my interest.

It definitely explained the surge of people crowding the capital. Adventurers, mercenaries, and would-be heroes. Everyone was here for the same reason: opportunity. But even so…

“Is it your job to eavesdrop on people?” I muttered under my breath, just enough for her to hear if she really was listening.

Her rat ears twitched as they peeked out from her hair. Yeah, she definitely heard. Shapeshifter. Great.

“U-Um… I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered. Then she leaned closer and whispered, “I’m only trying to help. And I do have information that may be advantageous to you.”

Amelia’s posture stiffened. “What is it? Don’t waste our time.”

The waitress’s tail flicked nervously. “The royal prince isn’t just gathering people for the expedition. He’s looking for bodyguards. Personal ones. He doesn’t want random volunteers. His real goal is to awaken his gift.”

Gift. Amelia had drilled that term into me for the past week of travel. Not capes, not powers. Gifts. That was what superpowers in this world called. Something halfway between divine blessing and genetic anomaly. People feared them as much as they worshipped them.

The waitress nodded quickly as she continued, “They say dragon blood can awaken latent gifts. If you wish to join the expedition, you’ll need to go to the prince’s estate tomorrow and take the test. I suggest you rest your strength tonight, sir.”

Before I could respond, Amelia placed a silver coin on the tray. “If you lied, I’ll come back.”

“Of course I didn’t lie,” the waitress said, bowing deeply.

Before she could step away, a group of mercenaries pushed through the narrow aisle. They were loud, armored, and clearly enjoying themselves far too much. One of them smacked the waitress’s rear as he passed. She yelped and stumbled, bumping into our table. The wooden legs scraped against the floor as the impact rattled our plates, sending stew splashing over the edge.

“Oh, sorry,” the culprit said with a grin, though he didn’t look sorry at all. His hand glowed faintly with some form of super strength or maybe some telekinetic shove. His friends laughed as they found their seats, muttering crude jokes.

Their amusement hit my Empathy like static. It was rough, sharp, and full of mockery. I clenched my jaw.

The waitress hurriedly bowed again, her hands trembling. “I’m so sorry, sir, ma’am… I’ll bring another. Please forgive the trouble.”

Amelia placed a steady hand on my shoulder before I could so much as shift in my seat. “There’s a time and place for everything,” she murmured. “So don’t do it.”

“I’m good,” I said, even though my head spun for a heartbeat as I pushed both Empathy and Telepathy to full output. The dizziness passed quickly. “It’s not like I only know violence. I just think people like that should learn to respect the folks who serve them their food. Don’t they know how hard the service industry is?”

Beth’s Burgers flashed into my mind from burnt fryer oil, screaming managers, and customers who treated you like a trash can with arms. Yeah. Some habits never die.

Across the room, one of the mercenaries who had shoved our table abruptly lurched forward and vomited all over his mates. Violently. Like a fountain.

Amelia blinked. “What did you do?”

“I gave him vertigo,” I admitted. “Mixed Telepathy with Empathy to scramble their balance. I could probably make it worse if I added electrokinesis, but… yeah. Our powers are really suppressed here.”

“That seems to be the case,” Amelia said with a thoughtful frown.

Our food arrived again, steaming stew thick with barley and diced carrots, rough brown bread, and a wooden cup of watered ale that tasted faintly of smoke. It wasn’t terrible. Actually, it tasted like something you’d eat after a long day hiking. It was filling and warm.

Of course, I couldn’t exactly complain.

After eating, we stepped out into the capital to get a feel for the place. The streets wound in crooked patterns between old stone buildings, and torches flickered in sconces along the walls. Merchants hawked cheap skewers of grilled meat. They were tough, but savory. I bought two as we walked.

We mapped out the main roads, memorized alleys, and counted guard patrols just in case. If we had to run or hide, shortcuts mattered.

By dusk, the sky was dyed orange and the city smelled like grilled fish and woodsmoke. We made our way back toward the inn, ready to call it a night. I didn’t really need sleep, but Amelia did, and resting meant fewer unexpected problems. The mission mattered. Getting home mattered.

But halfway down the narrow lane leading to the inn, three figures stepped into our path.

The mercenaries from earlier.

Their leader, taller than the others and wrapped in mismatched armor plates, gave us a smug grin as he drew the massive greatsword strapped to his back. The steel caught the lantern light and gleamed.

“Evenin’,” he said, voice dripping with arrogance. “Hand over your coin purses and whatever else you’re carryin’… and maybe we won’t carve you up.”

The pathway was practically deserted. Houses on both sides shut their doors the moment they saw the trio step out, windows slamming, shutters locking. Curtains twitched, and then nothing. Just the quiet of a street that wanted no part of what was about to happen.

Through Empathy and Telepathy, the fear was overwhelming. Whoever these guys were, the locals knew them and wanted to stay very far away.

I glanced at Amelia. “How do you want me to do it?”

“Without bloodshed,” she answered, calm but stern.

“Sure.”

Before the mercenary leader even finished lifting his sword, I dashed forward, tapped his shoulder, and dropped him straight into the earth, six feet down. My intangibility allowed me to slip him through the ground like dragging a body through water. With my powers weakened here, it drained more out of me than usual, but the result was the same: one buried bastard.

“Technically, no bloodshed,” I stepped back onto solid ground. “Who’s next?”

The remaining two mercenaries reacted instantly. One bolted so fast he tripped over his own feet, scrambling to escape down the alley. The other stood frozen, his sword half-drawn, and his mind a vacuum of terror.

Oddly, my chest felt tight. Burying one guy used to be easy. Trivial, even. But here? The effort made fatigue creep into my limbs, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You killed one of them,” Amelia sighed. “What are your plans for the rest of them?”

“We can just let them go,” I said, stepping forward.

I slapped the stunned mercenary lightly on the cheek, just enough to snap him out of his trance. “From now on, don’t mess with us, or you’ll end up just like your friend. Tell the other guy to keep quiet, too. Understand?”

“Y-yes!” he stuttered, almost tripping over himself as he ran off.

Amelia crossed her arms. “You’re awfully merciful. But couldn’t there have been another way to resolve it without killing him?”

“Look,” I said, lowering my voice. “Surely you’ve sensed those two hidden presences watching us. They’re sizing us up. Not hostile, not yet. And like you said, this is the Dark Ages. We can’t afford to be complacent. We need to get home, right?”

She let out a long yawn, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah, yeah… let’s move on. I need sleep.”