I. The Gauntlet of the Union
Grand Auditor Rhett Levin sat in his reinforced, gold-plated carriage, clutching a scented handkerchief to his nose. He hated the East. It smelled of dust, fear, and unprofitability.
His caravan—fifty elite Gold-Cloaks riding heavy warhorses—was moving efficiently, but the tension was palpable. They were traveling the main road toward the former city of Pravum, but the journey had been a nightmare.
"Captain," Levin barked through the window slit. "Why are we slowing? Time is coin."
Captain Kaelus, a scarred veteran whose gilded armor looked out of place in the grime, rode up. "The scouts found tracks, Auditor. Pale Ones. A pack, moving south. And the wind... it's shifting from the mountains."
Levin looked East toward the jagged silhouette of The World's Teeth. The mountains were shrouded in their natural, piercing fog. He knew the stories—not of the Pale Ones, but of the Abhorrent Liths. The stone that ate men.
"Keep to the center of the road," Levin snapped. "If we lose a horse to a rock-monster, I'm docking your pay."
The soldiers rode with their hands on their hilts, eyes darting between the tall grass (where the Pale Ones hunted) and the rocky outcrops (where the Golems slept). They were elite mercenaries, but out here, they were just meat. This was the reality of the Union: you could buy a sword, but you couldn't buy safety from a world that wanted to eat you.
II. The Eyes in the Distance
High on a ridge overlooking the road, hidden deep within the treeline, a spy from the Arcaneum Dominion lowered his brass spyglass. He was clad in camouflaged leathers, coated in alchemical scents to mask his presence from the monsters.
He watched the Union caravan sweating in fear. He made a note: Union authority is fragile. Their military is terrified of the environment.
He shifted his gaze East, toward the foothills. He wanted to get closer, to see the source of the "Dark Clouds" he had been tracking for weeks. But he stopped. Between him and the dark cloud bank lay a field of boulders. To the untrained eye, it was geology. To him, it was a graveyard. He saw the subtle rise and fall of a "boulder"—the breathing of a Lith-Dormant.
Target area is guarded by high-threat elemental fauna, he noted. Direct infiltration impossible without heavy support. The target, 'Obsidios', sits inside the monster-zone yet appears undisturbed. Implications are troubling.
He did not know of Kyra; he only knew that whoever ruled that dark domain had tamed the land that was eating the Union alive.
III. The Threshold of Silence
The Union caravan crested a rise and crossed the invisible 30-mile marker.
The change was violent in its suddenness. One moment, the wind was hot and dusty, carrying the screech of distant predators. The next, the wheels of Levin's carriage rolled from rutted dirt onto smooth, seamless black stone.
Levin gasped. The carriage stopped shaking. The noise of the road vanished.
He looked out. The sky above was no longer the harsh blue of the Union; it was covered by a heavy, rolling blanket of dark clouds—the Obsidian Ordo. The air was cool, smelling of ozone and rain.
"Captain?" Levin called out, his voice sounding too loud in the sudden quiet.
"It's... paved, sir," Kaelus said, his voice trembling. "The whole road. It's obsidian."
They looked around. The Fog-Ghasts that usually plagued the foothills were nowhere to be seen. The tracks of the Pale Ones stopped dead at the border of the black road, as if the monsters refused to touch the stone.
The Gold-Cloaks relaxed, their shoulders dropping. For the first time in days, they didn't feel like prey. They felt... watched. But safe.
IV. The Arteries of Order
They continued down the Via Obsidia. They passed the Obsidian Waystations—small, fortified towers manned by silent Raven Legionnaires in black plate armor. The Legionnaires did not challenge them; they simply watched from the battlements, their faces hidden behind visors, ravens perched on their shoulders.
Levin saw the fields. The Dark Harvest was in full swing. Farmers with healthy frames and elongated ears worked with a rhythmic, zealous efficiency. They looked at the Gold-Cloaks not with the fear of peasants facing tax collectors, but with the pity of free men looking at the enslaved.
"This isn't a bandit camp," Levin whispered, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "Bandits don't build highways. Bandits don't feed their people."
He passed the Twin Obelisks. The stones pulsed with a violet light as the carriage passed between them. Levin felt a wave of cold scrutiny pass through his body—the Scan. He didn't know it, but his intent (Greed, Liquidation) had just been registered and transmitted to the city ahead.
V. The Gates of Iubeo
The road led them straight to the destination. The mist cleared, and the city of Obsidios Iubeo (formerly Pravum) rose from the earth.
It was unrecognizable. The old, chaotic merchant city was gone. In its place was a fortress-city of black stone. The Second Observa Tower pierced the clouds, the Void Stone at its apex pulsing with a rhythmic, purple heartbeat that dominated the sky.
The massive, squared outer walls were manned by hundreds of soldiers. The Raven Standard—the metallic feathers glistening—hung from every bastion.
The carriage stopped before the closed iron gates. Levin stepped out, clutching his rod of office like a weapon. He adjusted his gold collar, trying to summon the arrogance of the Ministry.
"Open!" he shouted, his voice thin against the massive walls. "I am Grand Auditor Levin! I come to claim the assets of the Union!"
The gates groaned open.
Standing in the center of the road, backed by a phalanx of the Raven Legion, stood Obsidian Marshall Garrus Vane. The Marshall wore full Obsidian Plate, his cape billowing in the stillness. He stood with the absolute stillness of a statue.
Garrus did not draw his sword. He didn't need to. The city itself was the weapon.
"You are expected," Garrus said, his voice deep and calm. "The Raven Lord is waiting."
Rhett Levin walked forward, leaving his Gold-Cloaks behind at a gesture from Garrus. He walked into the city of Order, holding his ledger, unaware that he was not the auditor. He was the one being weighed.