"Well, that sucked," Damien muttered as he stepped out of the inn.

  His anonymity was something he'd very much wanted to keep quiet on this trip, and now he'd just gone and blown it all up on a cup of alcohol. Sighing, he looked around and then traced a new path down towards the arena-like building in the distance.

  Being large enough that it was very much visible even from miles outside the city, it didn't take much effort for him to make his way towards the city temple.

  The magnificent structure was shaped in the form of a massive arena with its roof shrouded in a large dome of shining gold. Five towering spires rose from the side of the building, their pointed caps jutting straight into the sky, which gave the entire thing a vague resemblance to a crown. Damien wondered how many members the cult fielded for it to need a building of such greatness, or it might simply be that they just wanted to flaunt their wealth in a show of false power.

  He approached the streets surrounding the giant temple, immediately taking notice of the sharp increase in military presence in the area. Civilian movements were rarely hindered, as far as he could see. There was the occasional random stop and search conducted on some people, outsiders, most likely, but nothing violent.

  Their eyes, on the other hand, were another thing, scrutinizing everyone in equal measure as they approached the giant structure.

  The presence of a greater number of pilgrims in the area didn't escape Damien's attention either. A city this secluded should have seen few visits from pilgrims due to its distance from the rest of civilization, but for some reason, pilgrims made their way towards the center in droves.

  Hmm, Damien massaged his beardless chin thoughtfully. This chosen stuff was beginning to interest him.

  He looked around, his interest suddenly piqued by the presence of somebody in the crowd.

  A soldier in the area suddenly jerked upright as Damien turned around, and he wouldn't have paid much notice to it, except that the man had been warily staring at him before he'd sharply turned his face away. The other guards were more subtle, but Damien still caught the heightened sense of energy they radiated alongside the wary and deep but subtle scrutiny directed his way.

  He grimaced but didn't act on it. Instead, he slowly made his way towards his own person of interest.

  "Never knew that Solaria had enough interest in a small insignificant city to send one of their agents," he said as he came to stand beside the man.

  He must have been really trained, given the little reaction he showed at the accusation. Instead, he glanced upwards at the taller Damien. "The interest of the Empire is none of your business, stranger."

  Damien met the man's eyes, inwardly smiling at the shock he detected within.

  Brown hair paired with the sort of black eyes that were very common in this city, coupled with a face that would easily be overlooked in a large crowd like this because of how much of a resemblance it had to the natives of this city. The man was putting on light brown desert garments that matched his hair color, with a posture formulated to relate with the other pilgrims in the area.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Since the appearance was made to look unassuming, Damien took it to mean the Empire was still in a passive stance concerning the city. For now.

  Despite it all, he still saw through the subterfuge to the true gaze of the spy. The way his gaze seemed to burn with distaste at the city and the people moving around. Damien wasn't surprised; people from the Empire considered themselves better than everyone else.

  The Solarian made a show of looking around, despite being capable of doing it without moving a muscle. "I see that you've gathered quite a bit of attention at the moment," He said with an inquisitive look at Damien. "You don't look like you're from around here, given your appearance. And since you're so familiar with the Empire to identify, at a glance, who I am, you must either hail from it or somewhere around our continent."

  "An acute summarization," Damien smiled.

  "Who do you have to be to draw this kind of wariness from the guards?" The man asked.

  Damien kept his smile. "Not your business."

  Surprisingly, the man didn't push. Instead, he nodded. "I'll get my answer one way or another. You're too much of an unknown to let roam about freely; the only difference in how much pain you feel is how unwilling you are to give me what I want."

  The man gave a sharp nod.

  "Now, before your contagious attention falls on me too, I think I will go find somewhere else to be," he finished as he began making his way away from Damien.

  The man hadn't gone a few steps forward when he stopped, turned halfway back, and then said in a very calm tone. "Don't bother running, I'll find you anywhere you hide," and then he continued.

  Damien sighed, smile dropping from his face. This was getting too tiring. He decided then and there to call it in for the day. It seemed like the universe didn't want him conversing anymore for the day, anyway.

  With a sigh, he moved on to find a place for the night.

  ***

  Thankfully, the next inn he found turned out a lot more better than the previous one. There was no overly exaggerated emotion, no inquisitive barman, and the drink he was served was a bit better. Not top-notch, certainly, but it was good enough that he took quite a good liking to it.

  Unlike the previous one, the bar on the ground floor had a lot more patrons in attendance—unsurprising considering how close they were to the center of the city. A majority of the inn's occupants were merchants, lone travellers like himself, some groups of pilgrims, and of course to top it off, guards.

  Now Damien wouldn't have minded the presence of the city protectors in this establishment—any establishment, in fact. In his experience, a lot of the fatal incidents that occurred outside of battles happened in bars. It wasn't that surprising considering how a lot of the patrons that frequented these bars were alcoholics, with an unfortunate mix of explosive rage. The presence of the city guards certainly helped put a stop to a lot of the inciting incidents leading up to those unfortunate moments—but the number of guards that sat within, the majority of whom had trailed in in the few minutes after he'd walked in, drew more of his attention than needed.

  Nevertheless, Damien wasn't worried. He simply finished his drink, thanked the barwoman—a motherly looking lady who smiled warmly at him when he dumped a gold coin in her hand—and made his way up the stairs towards his assigned room.

  The room had a dim glow, with a soothing crackling sound emanating from the fireplace in one corner. It had a warm sofa, a comfortable-looking bed, and a closed curtain. Nothing more, nothing less.

  It certainly wasn't up to the standards he was used to nowadays, but Damien wasn't going to complain. If anything, he felt even more upbeat. This place felt more like home than any huge castle ever could.

  With a smile on his face, he pulled off his clothes and moved towards the bathroom opening in one corner of the room, whistling to a joyful tune. He was having a visitor soon and he needed to wash off the stink of sweat and sand off his body.

  Oh, and a little bit of nap, too.