The Fortress of Quito
The city of Quito rose before them like a living wall.
Tall walls of gray stone surrounded the border city, reinforced with square towers and banners fluttering in the wind. It was not a capital, but neither was it a simple village: Quito was a commercial fortress, the sole domain of the count who bore the same name—a man who had built his power with a single city and turned it into the hub of regional trade.
William watched the walls intently, memorizing every detail, when he felt the carriage abruptly accelerate.
The rattling became more violent.
The wheels struck the road with increasing force, and William’s body bounced against the wagon’s wood without respite. Grain sacks shifted, crates creaked, and dust began to rise behind them like a thick cloud.
—"What the hell is wrong with you?" he exclaimed, clutching onto a side. —"Do you want to crash into the wall?!"
From the driver’s seat, Marco let out a loud laugh.
—"Hahaha! Friend, the last stretch is always done at maximum speed. It’s to announce my return. You know... family tradition".
William opened his eyes in disbelief.
—"Tradition? Since when does a tradition involve dying smashed against a city?"
—"Don’t exaggerate," Marco replied, snapping the reins. —"Besides, I hold the official title for chariot racing within the county".
—"How many titles do you have... and are we seriously going to slow down?" William asked, trying to steady himself in the wagon without much success.
The carriage began to creak in a worrying manner. The wood groaned under the immense speed, and dust rose behind them like a monster chasing them. The horses galloped faster and faster, spurred on by their owner’s enthusiasm.
William’s heart skipped a beat with every bump in the road.
Marco, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic. A manic laugh began to bubble from his chest as the wind whipped his hair.
—"Let’s go, beauties!" he shouted. —"One last effort!"
Suddenly, he pulled hard on the reins.
—"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"
The horses braked all at once.
William was thrown forward along with some of the merchandise, ending up piled inside the carriage while everything shook violently.
—"You crazy bastard!" he roared as he tried to pick himself up.
With trembling legs, he managed to get out of the wagon and took a couple of steps before feeling the world spin around him.
—"You damn idiot!" a nearby voice shouted. —"For a moment I thought it was a stampede!"
A soldier approached with a furious expression.
—"Marco, can't you enter the city like a normal person?"
Marco smiled with total naturalness.
—"Come on, don’t exaggerate. Nobles arrive in carriages, commoners on foot, merchants in caravans... and my family arrives at full gallop".
William leaned against one of the wagon wheels, breathing deeply.
What absurd logic... he thought, wondering how that family remained in one piece.
The soldier sighed, clearly resigned. He approached William and handed him a piece of dried meat.
—"Eat this. It helps with the dizziness," he said in a low voice. —"And please... don't drop anything you're carrying during the inspection".
William took the meat and looked at him with a mix of confusion and empathy.
He’s too used to this... he thought. He surely has family among the guards, too.
The soldier caught his look and slightly twisted his mouth, as if confirming that suspicion without saying a word.
Then he straightened up and, with a solemn voice, declared:
—"Welcome to the city of Quito".
After a quick—and clearly rushed—inspection, they were allowed entry.
—"Well... that was an intense entrance," Marco commented, adjusting his clothes with total tranquility.
William, still recovering, stared at him.
—"The guards wanted to kill you," he said bluntly. —"Seriously, what did you do to them to make them look at you like that?"
He had completely lost his aristocratic etiquette. His gaze burned with the expression of someone who had bet his life on the wrong horse... or rather, the wrong merchant.
Marco shrugged.
—"It’s a family right," he replied. —"When Count Quito needed support, it was my family that acted... imprudently. But it worked. One way or another, it was resolved".
William watched him in silence.
Don't try to justify it, he thought. You enjoy it.
Once inside the walls, the noise of the city enveloped William with an intensity different from that of the road.
Quito was a noisy city. Wagons loaded with goods moved in both directions, merchants argued prices loudly, and apprentices ran between stalls with errands clutched to their chests. The air was thick with smells: freshly baked bread, tanned leather, hot metal, and spices brought from distant lands.
Marco moved forward in the wagon, greeting everyone, with William in the back.
—"Come," he said without looking back. —"Before you collapse, you need an inn".
William followed him, his legs still somewhat unstable. He observed the buildings with a critical eye: robust stone constructions in the areas closest to the wall, reinforced wood and narrow balconies as they moved deeper into the city. Everything was designed with a clear mindset: to resist.
—"Border city," he murmured. —"It shows".
Marco smiled.
—"Nothing here is a coincidence. Quito isn't big, but it's wealthy. And where there is wealth... there are problems".
They crossed the commercial sector, where stalls were crowded against each other. Some merchants greeted Marco with familiarity; others watched him with open distrust. William did not miss the gazes that settled on him: curious, evaluating.
I'm not from here, he thought. And they know it.
As they moved forward, the bustle diminished. The streets widened slightly, and the buildings took on a more cared-for appearance. Finally, Marco stopped in front of a two-story inn, solid, with a well-maintained wooden sign swaying gently in the wind.
—"This is it," he said. —"My family always stays in this place".
William looked up. The inn was not ostentatious, but it conveyed stability. Reinforced windows, a thick door, and an atmosphere that inspired safety more than luxury.
—"Always?" he asked.
—"When we aren't entering the city at full gallop, yes".
William let out a brief, tired laugh.
—"I hope the beds are more stable than your carriage".
Marco pushed the door open, and the warmth from inside greeted them immediately.
—"Trust me," he replied. —"Here at least, no one tries to kill you upon arrival".
—"Seems like you didn't have it easy either—"
William crossed the threshold with one last look toward the streets of Quito.
The inn was rustic and cozy. From the entrance, one could see a staircase leading to the second floor, a well-worn service counter, and several occupied tables. The smell of cooked meat permeated the air.
The inn overflowed with cheer. Laughter, crisscrossing conversations, clinking glasses. A waitress moved between the tables with ease, answering jokes without losing her rhythm.
Marco entered with quiet steps, but his presence was noisy.
—"Good day to everyone! This inn’s favorite customer has arrived!"
—"Where? Because I don't see him," interrupted a robust-looking diner, turning from his table. —"Marcus, move aside, I'm looking for him".
—"Come on, Uncle Rodrick, give me some credit," the merchant replied, dramatically clutching his chest. —"What a warm welcome".
—"Uncle Rodrick, stop looking for trouble with Marcus," the waitress intervened, approaching him with a stern expression. —"And besides..." she added, looking over the merchant’s shoulder, —"he is a new customer".
William stepped forward, his body still somewhat stiff from the journey.
—"Yes. A room for a week and food," he said, bluntly.
The waitress evaluated him for just a second before nodding.
—"Come, I'll lead you to the room".
—"Take care of him, Mary," added the merchant. —"He’s my guest".
The waitress stopped for a moment, as if measuring the weight of those words, and then turned on her heels, gesturing for him to follow her toward the stairs.
They went up to the second floor, where the bustle of the main hall turned into a distant murmur. In front of one of the doors, the waitress stopped and opened it with a practical gesture.
—"This is your room".
The room was simple but clean. A wooden bed occupied one side, accompanied by a discreet desk and a chair. The floor and walls, also made of wood, retained that dry, old smell that betrayed years of use, but no neglect.
William set his backpack aside and took off his cloak, shaking off the dust accumulated from the road. In doing so, his face was revealed, along with an appearance more tired than he himself would have admitted.
—"Do you know where the central church is?" he asked, while finishing settling in.
After settling in and buying a fairly expensive bottle of wine, I headed to the only completely white building in the city. An imposing building with large pillars and an open front section that radiated a sacred aura. It was the central church, dedicated to the current Goddess of Light and to the ancient gods of war.
Upon entering, a priest approached me. —"A traveler. Do you come to pay tribute or to confess?"
—"Tribute," I replied and followed him to the altar.
I took out the wine and poured it into the sanctuary bowl. It was no secret that the goddess was a lover of alcoholic beverages.
—"Oh, merciful goddess! Thank you for saving my humble life, for guiding your humble servants through the paths of existence and... you know the rest. Here is my gratitude!" I exclaimed.
The world went silent. The vibrations of the wine stopped. I felt the chain tattoo on my arm burn. The ceiling vanished like clouds and a woman with a sacred aura descended down a transparent staircase. She had white hair, golden eyes, and barely perceptible elf ears.
—"OHOOO Humble human! I accept your tribute and—"
—"Who are you?" I interrupted her, stepping back and instinctively bringing my hand to the chain.
The woman stopped with a practiced smile. —"I am the Goddess of Light, ruler of the—"
—"Don't lie," I snapped. Silence fell like a slab.
—"The Goddess of Light is careless," I continued with a fixed gaze. —"She wears clothes that don't belong to this world... and I'm fairly certain she is the daughter of a dragon or something with horns".
The figure blinked.
—"That is not true".
—"Yes, it is".
—"No, it isn't".
—"Yes, it is".
—"No, it isn't".
—"Yes, it is".
—"Yes, it is".
—"No, it isn't".
—"See, you said it," I declared triumphantly.
The goddess froze. Then, her shoulders began to shake. —"No, wicked soul. Do you dare to seize the soul of one of my children?"
—"Children... I didn't know you were one of those mothers with favorite children. Besides, I am me. Check it," I replied.
She stared at me and her eyes turned glowing gold with geometric shadows in the pupils. —"...Tsk".
The light vanished instantly. Where the divine figure had floated, there was now a young woman leaning listlessly. She wore an open-shoulder shirt, her hair was tied back, and she had an irritated expression accompanied by fierce eyes.
—"Seriously," she murmured. —"Who gave this human so much character?"
—"Yes... this is the goddess I remember," I said silently.
She clicked her tongue. —"Merging with a soul fragment was a mistake. I knew it would bring trouble, but I never imagined you would have information about me".
—"So it was true. You come from a place called the Council of Gods," I hinted.
—"No".
—"Yes".
—"No".
—"Shut up," she ordered, frowning. —"Thanks to the contract, you hardly lie, but that habit of yours of twisting conversations is exasperating".
—"I'm not changing the subject".
—"You do it even when you don't realize it. It was always like that".
I took a step back, uncomfortable.
—"Fine. Let's get to the point. I don't have much time," she said, crossing her arms. —"I want more tribute. And don't mess with the destiny of the Empire".
—"How am I supposed to do that?" I retorted. —"If I kill someone important, destiny changes. If I prevent someone from going where they were supposed to go, it changes. What do you expect me to do? Lock myself away until everything is over?"
—"Destiny corrects itself. Causality replaces pieces. It always does," she finally replied. With a gesture, the chain appeared in her hand. —"That's what these artifacts are for. They restrict major deviations. Although you have guts... overloading its capacity to try to rewrite the owner... not many would try that".
I looked away. —"I thought, since it came from a kind goddess, it wouldn't explode".
—"I don't know if you're daring or stupid".
—"I made a contract with a goddess who has caused me quite a bit of trouble," I replied. —"So the judgment rests in your hands".
She opened her mouth and remained silent. —"Tch. You're still the same... and at the same time not. It's as if the shape remains the same, but the color has changed".
She sighed seriously. —"We don't have any more time. Use the tattoo and the chain to store fire mana until you find a solution. Don't die. And please... don't touch the empire".
Light began to gather around her. —"Ah, and come back with more tribute. My grace is not cheap," she added before disappearing.
I left the altar, gave a donation to the priest, and passed by a congregation of paladins serving as guards. I looked at them for a moment and left.
