Realmshift: Triad Ascendancy.

Traces.

[ARKANE]

The noise of the street practically stabs at my ears as I weave through the crowd. So this is Stanmore, huh? Definitely a far cry from the quiet trees and gentle winds of Eldergrove. People press in from every direction—loud voices, clattering footsteps, the smell of street food and something I really hope isn't sewage.

"Man, this place is packed..." I mutter under my breath, glancing around.

Stanmore isn't exactly the prettiest part of Eldoria. It's rough around the edges—run-down buildings, shady corners. It's perfect for people who are trying to lay low like Kael Draconis.

The strongest mage in all of Eldoria. The guy's practically a ghost—shows up in random places like bars, stays just long enough to leave a rumor, and then vanishes before anyone can get a good look. From what I've heard, when he does show up, He is wearing a coat that covers his whole body and he has pitch black hair and he's tan but that's about it

Problem is, half the time it's not even him—just some wannabe who kind of looks the part. Or worse, a made-up tale some drunk thought would be fun to tell. Everyone wants to say they've seen Kael. He's like a living legend... It's frustrating to just think about it.

The faded wooden sign creaked above me, swaying slightly in the wind. The Merry Maiden.

The paint was chipped, and one of the iron brackets looked like it had seen better decades, but the place was still standing—and more importantly, it was the last known location Kael Draconis had been spotted.

Or at least, that's what Silver had dug up.

I pushed open the door. The hinges groaned in protest, and the scent of stale alcohol and overcooked meat hit me like a physical blow. My nose wrinkled instinctively.

Ugh. Disgusting. How do people drink in places like this?

The tavern was dimly lit, with lanterns casting weak amber light across worn wooden floors. A half-dozen patrons sat scattered around battered tables, some nursing mugs of dark ale, others half-asleep in their seats. A bard strummed something out of tune in the corner, not that anyone seemed to care.

I made my way to the bar, ignoring the glances tossed my way. Cloak up, weapons in plain sight—most people here had the sense to not get curious.

The bartender was a thick-shouldered man with a trimmed beard and sleeves pushed up to his elbows, wiping out a mug with a cloth that was probably making it dirtier.

He gave me a once-over as I stopped in front of him.

"Don't see many like you around here," he said, raising a brow.

"Not here to blend in," I replied coolly, leaning on the bar. "I'm looking for someone. He might've passed through here a few weeks ago."

The bartender kept polishing. "Lots of people pass through. You'll have to be more specific."

I leaned in slightly. "Kael Draconis."

The cloth in his hand froze for just a second before he resumed scrubbing.

"...You're the second person to ask about him this month."

That made my eyebrow twitch. "So he was here."

He let out a slow breath, as if deciding how much to give away. "Didn't say much. Came in, sat at the end of the bar, ordered something cheap. Didn't look like much, but there was... weight to him. You could feel it in the air."

Mana presence. Even when they try to hide it, powerful mages can't always suppress their aura completely.

"Did he speak to anyone?" I asked.