Yuel and Nazyr brought Rylan to a shack that was built up against the bottom of the city's cliffs itself.

The shacks in this area were a little sturdier and bigger, with bigger gardens that grew a larger variety of plants, suggesting there was some stratification going on even outside the city's rings. But this shack especially, was quite sizeable.

It seemed to have been partially made out of materials scrounged together from shipwrecks, with whalebone ribs lining the walls and framing the sturdy bamboo door, and the roof looking suspiciously like it might have been a kitesail once.

Rylan didn't get long to study it, as Yuel confidently ascended the levelled steps up to the door and knocked thrice, pausing slightly before the third knock.

There was no answer, but Yuel didn't act like this was unexpected. He just turned to Rylan, and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. "When we're in there, let's leave out the details like your name or that you're a Quinthar, all right? You're still a runaway indentured servant, and we don't know who might be looking for you."

Rylan blinked, then nodded.

Finally, he heard some muted shuffling from inside before a part of the door slid aside, revealing a narrow opening.

A pair of dark eyes peered out, the skin next to them wrinkling heavily as they squinting into the fog. Yuel gave a little wave which was met by a long-suffering sigh.

"And here I'd hoped I'd seen the last of your ugly mugs," an old man's voice grumbled. "Thought you'd left the life behind?"

"Lovely to see you too, Kher," Yuel replied smoothly. "Though we have most definitely left our sordid past far behind us, we still require your services, for a friend." Yuel stepped aside a little, revealing Rylan, who waved sheepishly. "May we come in?"

Kher narrowed his eyes at Rylan, looking him up and down, then suddenly snapped the porthole shut. Clanking noises and the rattling of chains followed. This went on for quite some time, before it finally culminated in the click of a lock, and the door swung inward.

Standing to the side was a man with a face like worn leather, framed by long strands of thin, grey hair that grew around a sizable bald spot. "Come on," Kher said, impatiently waving them on. "You're letting the fog in."

Assuming the old man was speaking metaphorically, Rylan hurried after Yuel and Nazyr, and almost stumbled at the doorstep as he suddenly found the pull of gravity increase.

The door slammed shut behind him, and he found himself in a surprisingly dry and fog-free space that smelled faintly of mint and some kind of sweet spice, and that was crammed full of mismatched furniture.

A threadbare couch dyed a faded pink faced a small kitchen. Wicker chairs surrounded a table resting on an anchor for a base, which stood beneath a chandelier made from an old steering wheel. Near the back wall, a small bamboo ladder lead up to a precariously high-hanging hammock.

And all around the room, in various spots, were fog condensers in all shapes and sizes.

"Here, let me take your things, lad," Kher said, holding out his hand with a friendly, gap-toothed smile.

"Oh, thanks," Rylan said. As he reached for one of the straps of his backpack, however, Yuel cleared his throat.

The blonde former pirate gave him a pained smile. "Kher, please keep your sticky fingers out of our sweet and naïve friend's belongings."

"You're not grifting him, then?" Kher asked, sounding slightly surprised before he retracted his hand with a shrug. "All right, none of my business, I guess."

Rylan flicked his gaze between Yuel and the old man who apparently had been trying to steal from him. A surge of anger welled up inside him, and he swung off his backpack. "Since you offered, it'd be rude to decline," he said, firmly meeting the man's wide eyes as he thrust the backpack at him. "So here, I insist."

Kher looked taken aback, but accepted the backpack, and didn't move as Rylan shrugged out of his wool-lined leather coat and piled it on top.

"Of course, I trust my things will be safe in your care," Rylan added as he let go. "And believe me, I'll know if they're not."

With that, he turned around and marched to the couch, where he sat down next to a grinning Nazyr. 'Arphin,' he sent, silently fuming. 'Let me know the moment he takes anything.'

[You got it, Boss!]

"So touchy," the old man muttered, shaking his head, but he hung Rylan's coat on his coat rack without rifling through anything and put the backpack down next to it.

Yuel bit down on his smile, glancing at Rylan apologetically. "I'm sure it was an honest mistake by Kher, to think you were a mark of ours. The truth is, this is not a kind place. You'll need to be more on your guard, young friend."

Nazyr grunted his agreement. "Folks are tough around here. Wily. But only 'cause they have ta be. It'll be a bit better up in the lower ring, but ye better still watch out."

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"A legitimate mate of these two kooks like yourself's got nothing to fear from me, son," Kher added as he limped over to his little kitchen and came back with some glasses and a bottle with a stopper. "Lady Lunis does not look kindly upon turncoats and backstabbers."

Rylan frowned, feeling his anger ebbing a little. The man may have tried to rob him, but, well, Rylan was choosing to associate with two former pirates. And having seen the living conditions in the slums around the city, he could understand this sort of thing might be... more common than he'd considered.

[Don't worry, Boss. I'll make sure to keep an eye out for anyone trying to take your things!]

The stopper came out of the bottle with a loud pop, and Kher poured a finger of potent-smelling amber liquid into four glasses. Nazyr and Yuel each snatched one up, and Rylan followed suit.

It didn't look too clean, but then, Rylan's standards for how clean a glass should look were probably a little out of touch with the way folk lived around here, like possibly quite a few of his preconceived notions.

So far, the city of Cliffport was not living up to how he had imagined it in his fantasies—he could only hope things were better inside the walls.

Yuel raised up his glass. "To Lady Lunis. May She guide our shadows to prosperity."

"Hear hear," Nazyr grunted as they all clinked their glasses together.

While the three men threw their glasses back, Rylan took a more tentative sip. The initial flavour wasn't bad, sweet and kind of spicy, but when he swallowed, the burning in his throat made his eyes bulge out and sent him into a fit of coughs.

Nazyr guffawed and slapped him on the back repeatedly, which might've hurt if not for Rylan's Mana Shell softening the blows just a smidge.

He wasn't sure how he was even able to tell that was happening. There was just something in the minute ripples flowing through the mana that covered his skin that told him his shell was doing something to protect him.

"So, what's the package?" Kher asked as Rylan waved Nazyr off and managed to get his coughing under control.

Yuel gestured at all of Rylan with a flourish. "You're looking at him!"

Kher's bushy grey brows shot up. "You want me to take the kid up into the city? Look, I'm not one to pry into other's affairs, but if you're unable to pass through the gates, it's generally better to make a living out here. The gates open and close both ways, you know, and I'm not a fogging carriage driver."

Yuel pursed his lips, and glanced over at Rylan, with a questioning look.

"I need to get in," Rylan immediately stated, before coughing one last time. "There's someone I'm trying to find. I'm avoiding the gates because there might be some people looking for me, and that person should hopefully have some more information about the whole... situation."

Kher shot him an appraising look, scratching his chin. "I know someone," he started slowly. "Might be able to get you some almost-real identity papers. It'll cost you, though; the good stuff ain't cheap."

Rylan sat up straighter. "That could be very useful. I'm a little low on free-floating funds, but if you could give me a recommendation I'll definitely keep it in mind."

Kher narrowed his eyes suspiciously and glanced over at Yuel. "Not to be crass, but... you are aware I'm not a charity, right?"

"Yes, I know all too well," Yuel said dryly, drawing a pouch out of his pants and fishing out some coins which he handed over. Rylan's eyes widened at the glint of silver. Glancing over at Rylan, Yuel smirked. "I told you we just got our wages, didn't I?"

"Thank you," Rylan said earnestly. "I'll pay you back as soon as I can, I promise."

Yuel laughed. "I'd probably just spend it on booze if you did. Consider this a favour. Who knows? I might need one back someday." He shot Rylan a wink.

Kher, who had already tucked the coins away somewhere, sat down on one of the wicker chairs, leaned in, and whispered conspiratorially. "I'd pay him back if I were you, kid. Trust me. You'll be doing yourself a favour."

Nazyr let out a bark of laughter.

Yuel gasped, affronted. "I'm sorry, what was that spiel about Lady Lunis and traitors again, you old coot?!"

"What, you don't think I've forgotten about that time you asked me to smuggle those scent glands, did you? My favourite tunic smelled like armadon ass for a season!"

As the old friends argued, Rylan leaned back and took another cautious sip of his drink. It was really quite nice. He heaved out a sigh, and for the first time in a while, actually relaxed.

Eventually, after a lot of laughter and swapped tales, Yuel and Nazyr had to get going. Rylan was reluctant to see them leave, but Yuel gave him the address and name of the lower-ring inn—the Chummy Bucket—they would be holing up in, and made him promise to come by if he needed anything.

Finally, after an exchange of hugs, the twosome left. Kher waved them off with a rude gesture, fastened an impressive number of bolts and chains on the door, then turned around. "So... you ready to go, kid?"

Rylan cocked his head to the side, feeling the corner of his mouth quirk up. "I mean, sure, but I feel like you just made that a lot harder."

"Oh, don't worry; we're not taking that exit," Kher said, reaching for something next to the door.

For a brief moment, Rylan tensed up, as he thought the old man's hand was headed for the wicked-looking harpooncaster mounted on the wall there, but instead, he grabbed the head of a walking cane that appeared to have been made out of the spine of a fish.

With that in hand, Kher hobbled to the coat rack, where he grabbed a thick wool coat. "Come on, lad, time's a wastin'!"

Rylan hurriedly shrugged on his own coat and grabbed his backpack, before darting after the old man as he hobbled towards the back of his house.

Kher finally came to a halt in front of a wall-mounted bamboo cabinet, and lifted his cane. The tip slotted perfectly into an inconspicuous hole on one side, and as the old man twisted the walking aid, a click resounded.

The front of the cabinet swung down, a bamboo ladder unfolding as it did, revealing a hole big enough to crawl through in the light grey stone of the cliff right behind it.

"We're going up through there?" Rylan asked in surprise. "I thought you would take me to a fog inlet or something..."

"A fog inlet? Don't be daft, son," Kher said as he placed his cane against the wall, and started rolling his shoulders and limbering up his legs. "Those are just below the driftline, halfway up a sheer cliff. And even if you manage to make it up there, you'd have to cut through inches of steel to make it through a grate that's regularly cleaned and inspected. No one's going through all that trouble just to get into the city."

That actually made a lot of sense. There was no reason to extend the fogtube system all the way down to the cloudbed; it would just make the flow more sluggish.

"Anyway, I hope your knees are better than mine, kid," Kher continued as he started to climb the ladder. "Because we've got a lot of tunnel to go through."

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