Sera - A Dungeon Revival LitRPG

Abila - Capital of Lizeria

After snooping around, Haziel managed to get her hands on a brown hooded cloak which helped her stand out a lot less. The bustling streets of the capital were filled with the lively chatter of merchants and townsfolk, a stark contrast to the silence of the monastery.

But regardless, there was only once place where she wanted to be. Time to check that bakery.

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air as she approached the familiar wooden door. Haziel hesitated for a moment, hovering a hand just above the door before she finally knocked. The sound echoed softly in the quiet street, and she heard a muffled voice from within, followed by the clatter of something being set down.

The door creaked open, and Charles stood in surprise as he took in the sight of her. “Haziel? I didn’t think I’d see you again. What happened to you?”

Haziel pulled back her hood, revealing her tired face. “I’ve been…away for a while. But I’m back now, and I need a place to lay low. Was hoping I could stay here, maybe work in the bakery to earn my keep.”

Charles rubbed the back of his neck as he considered her request. “You’re always welcome here, Haziel, you know that. But if you’re running from something…or someone, especially the Inquisition, the capital might not be the safest place for you.”

“But I can’t keep running forever. I need somewhere to start over, somewhere I can just…be.”

“You know I’d help you in any way I can, but staying here could put you in more danger."

Haziel’s shoulders slumped, but she managed a small, grateful smile. “I understand. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

Charles’s expression softened, and he reached out to clasp her shoulder. “You could try Marwood. My sister Joanne runs a dessert stall there, and she’s always looking for help. It’s a town not too far from the capital, you could lay low for a while and get back on your feet.”

“Are… you sure your sister will just take me in?”

“If you tell her I sent you, she’ll take you in without a second thought. Joanne has a soft spot for those in need, and if you’re willing to work, she’ll appreciate the help. Plus, it’s a bit of a different pace from the capital. Might be just what you need.”

Haziel nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and uncertainty. “Thank you, for everything.”

Charles shook his head, letting out a smile tinged with sadness. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

"I'll be fine." Haziel said with a weak chuckle.

Charles stepped back to allow her room to leave. “Marwood’s a day’s journey on foot. You’ll find my sister's stall near the town square, she sells these candied fruits wrapped in thin, golden-brown dough."

***

Marwood - Front Gates

Marwood's front gates loomed in the distance, their wooden beams sturdy and weathered from years of standing guard. The sun was still low in the sky as the line of people waiting to enter the town stretched far ahead. Haziel stood near the back of the queue, cloak pulled tightly around her to ward off the early morning chill.

The line moved slowly, and Haziel took the time to observe those around her. There were refugees seeking shelter, merchants hoping to sell their wares, and a surprising number of well-dressed individuals who seemed out of place among the more typical travelers. I wonder what has drawn these wealthier people to a town like Marwood?

Lost in her thoughts, Haziel barely noticed the gentle bump against her back until she heard a small voice behind her.

“Sorry, ma’am,” a young boy said timidly as he looked up at her with wide eyes.

Haziel turned to see a family of four: a mother, father, and two children. The boy who had spoken couldn’t have been more than eight years old, with brown hair and a nervous expression. His younger sister clung to their mother’s hand, eyes darting around the crowd.

Haziel offered the boy a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, no harm done.”

The mother smiled gratefully at Haziel, though there was a tightness to her expression that caught Haziel’s attention. “Thank you for understanding, he's just a bit skittish."

Haziel studied the family for a moment, noticing how the parents seemed unusually tense. The father’s eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, hand resting protectively on the hilt of a small dagger at his belt. The mother’s grip on her daughter’s hand was white-knuckled, and she kept glancing back at the line, as if expecting someone to appear behind them at any moment.

“Are you headed to Marwood as well?” Haziel asked, keeping her tone light but curious.

The father nodded quickly. “Yes, we are. Just passing through, really. Thought it might be a good place to rest for a while.”

The mother’s gaze met Haziel’s, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something, fear, perhaps? “We’ve been traveling for quite some time. The children need a safe place to stay, and we heard Marwood is… peaceful.”

Haziel raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. “It is a quiet town, from what I’ve heard. A good place to catch your breath.”

The mother nodded, but her eyes were distant. The father, meanwhile, was shifting nervously from foot to foot. Haziel couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The kids look normal for the most part, so it's just the parents who are behaving oddly.

“Actually… I need a break,” the mother suddenly said out loud

The father’s head snapped toward her, expression softening as he reached for a waterskin hanging from his belt. “Here, drink this. It’ll help.”

The mother took the waterskin with trembling hands and brought it to her lips. Haziel watched as she took a long drink, her shoulders gradually relaxing as she exhaled deeply. In only a few seconds, the woman’s earlier anxiety seemed to melt away, replaced by an almost unnatural calmness. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as if savoring the relief.

Haziel played it cool while she observed the mother’s sudden change in demeanor. She knew water alone couldn’t have such a dramatic effect, and the way the father watched his wife with a mixture of concern and relief only heightened her suspicion. Whatever was in that waterskin, it's potent, perhaps alcohol?

“Feeling better?” the father asked, taking back the waterskin.

The mother nodded, a contented smile on her lips. “Much better, thank you dear.”

Haziel looked on the waterskin for a moment longer before she returned her attention to the family. She couldn’t quite place what was bothering her about the situation, but she knew there was more to this family’s story than they were letting on.

Haziel studied the mother’s face, noting the way her eyes had softened. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The mother nodded. “I’m fine, really. Just needed a moment to catch my breath.”

The father quickly stepped. “We’ve just had a long journey, that’s all. The road can be hard on families, especially with little ones.”

Haziel could see the weariness etched into their features, but there was something more beneath the surface. Still, she decided not to press further. They must be looking for something, perhaps something in Marwood.

“Safe travels,” Haziel said with a small nod. “Take care of yourselves.”

The boy who had bumped into her earlier gave a shy smile, while his sister clung to her mother’s skirt, peering up at Haziel with wide, curious eyes. Haziel offered them a gentle wave before turning back to face the front of the line, letting the family move on ahead.

As the line crept forward, Haziel noticed something peculiar: very few people were being turned away at the gates. In fact, most were being waved through with little more than a cursory glance from the guards.

This struck her as odd; she distinctly remembered hearing that Marwood had been denying entry to almost everyone just a few weeks ago, its gates shut tight against the influx of refugees and wanderers. I suppose much can change even in only a few weeks, but still, this appears a bit too drastic of a policy shift.

When it finally came to Haziel’s turn, she stepped forward, her heart beating a little faster as she approached the guards. She expected the usual questions: her business in the town, where she had come from, and perhaps even a search of her belongings. But to her surprise, the guards barely glanced at her. One of them simply nodded and gestured for her to pass.

“Aren’t you going to check me for anything? Ask where I’m headed?” Haziel asked.

The guards exchanged amused glances before one of them chuckled, eyes raking over her with a knowing look. “We know what girls like you are up to, just keep going.”

Haziel raised an eyebrow, catching the meaning behind their words. She bit back a sharp retort, knowing it wouldn’t do her any favors to cause a scene. Instead, she sighed and nodded, brushing past the guards and into the town.

Once inside Marwood proper, Haziel followed the directions Charles had given her, winding through the crowded market square. The bustling energy was almost overwhelming after the quiet of her journey, but she kept her head down, focused on her destination. She passed by stalls laden with colorful fruits and vegetables, baskets of herbs, and racks of smoked meats.

But finally, she spotted the dessert stall Charles had mentioned. It was a modest setup, and behind the stall stood a woman who could only be Joanne.

Haziel approached the dessert stall, slowing as she took in the inviting display of candied fruits and pastries, each one wrapped in a delicate layer of golden-brown dough. Behind the stall, Joanne worked with practiced ease, folding thin strips of dough around plump, candied fruits. Her silver hair gleamed in the late morning sun, and her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she noticed Haziel approaching.

“Good morning, dear,” Joanne greeted. “What can I do for you today?”

Haziel offered a tentative smile in return, feeling some of her earlier tension begin to melt away. “Good morning. My name is Haziel. Charles sent me, he said you might be able to help me find some work.”

“Ah, Charles! That rascal always knows when to send someone my way. I’m Joanne, and any friend of Charles is welcome here.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to be a burden. I’m willing to help out in any way I can. If you can teach me what to make, I’ll do my best to be useful.”

Joanne chuckled softly. “Well, I was just about to start my break in about ten minutes, but if you’re that eager to get started, I’m more than happy to show you the ropes. How about we start with something simple?”

Haziel nodded eagerly. “That sounds perfect.”

Joanne motioned for Haziel to join her behind the stall, where the small workspace was organized with a practiced efficiency. She reached into a basket and pulled out a selection of ripe fruits, setting them on the wooden counter. “Let’s start with my signature candied fruit wrapped in thin, golden-brown dough. It’s a favorite here in Marwood, especially among the children.”

Haziel watched closely as Joanne demonstrated the process. She selected a plump peach from the basket and set it down in front of Haziel. “First, we start with the fruit. Peaches are a crowd-pleaser, but you can use just about any fruit that holds up well to heat. We peel and slice the fruit first, like this.”

With practiced movements, Joanne peeled the peach’s skin away, revealing the soft, juicy flesh beneath. She handed Haziel a small paring knife, and Haziel carefully mimicked the motion, the blade gliding smoothly under Joanne’s guidance. Once the peaches were peeled and sliced, Joanne set them aside and moved on to the next step.

“Now, for the candied part,” Joanne continued, reaching for a pot of sugar and a small vial of spices. “We’ll make a simple syrup to coat the fruit. Just a bit of sugar, water, and these spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, and a touch of clove.”

While Joanne measured out the ingredients, Haziel took mental notes, committing each step to memory. Very interesting.

“Once the syrup’s ready, we dip the fruit in and let it soak up all that sweetness,” Joanne explained, demonstrating as she submerged the peach slices into the bubbling liquid. The fruit glistened as it emerged, coated in a thin, glossy layer of syrup.

Next, Joanne moved on to the dough, which she had already prepared and rolled out into thin sheets. “This dough is the key to making these treats special,” she said while cutting the dough into strips. “It’s a simple pastry dough, but the trick is in rolling it thin and baking it just right so that it turns golden and crisp without burning.”

Haziel watched as Joanne wrapped each piece of candied fruit in a strip of dough, sealing the edges with a quick pinch. The rolls were then placed onto a baking tray, ready for the oven. Joanne handed Haziel a piece of dough and a slice of candied peach, encouraging her to try her hand at it.

With careful hands, Haziel followed Joanne’s lead, wrapping the dough around the fruit until it was snugly enclosed. Her movements were slower, less practiced than Joanne’s, but the older woman’s encouraging smile kept her from feeling self-conscious.

“Not bad at all for your first try,” Joanne said as Haziel placed her roll on the tray. “Now, we’ll pop these into the oven and let them bake until they’re a beautiful golden brown.”

The tray went into the small oven, and Haziel found herself feeling a sense of satisfaction as they waited for the treats to bake. There was something soothing about the simple, repetitive motions of baking, something that made the world outside the stall feel a little less daunting. I wouldn't mind doing this for a good while.

Joanne leaned against the counter with a knowing look. “You’ve got a good hand for this, I can see why Charles sent you my way.”

Haziel felt a warmth spread through her chest at the compliment. “Thank you, I—"

Her words trailed off as something caught her eye: a man stumbling through the market, his gait unsteady. His clothes were disheveled, hair matted, and his eyes glazed over as he swayed from side to side. Something is definitely wrong with him.

Joanne straightened, her cheerful demeanor faltering as she squinted at the man. “Is that... Frederick?” she murmured to herself.

Haziel glanced at Joanne, then back at the man. “Should I help him?”

Joanne nodded quickly. “Yes, please. He’s a good man, but something’s not right.”

Immediately, Haziel moved toward the staggering figure, weaving through the crowd until she reached him. She gently grasped his arm, steadying him as he nearly toppled over. “Easy there,” she said softly, guiding him to a nearby wall where he could sit.

Frederick mumbled something incoherent, eyes unfocused as Haziel helped him lower himself to the ground. His breath reeked of something far stronger than alcohol, and a faint, sickly-sweet odor clung to him, making the angel's nose wrinkle.

Joanne hurried over, her face etched with worry as she crouched beside him. She examined Frederick closely, her brow furrowed. “Frederick, what’s happened to you?”

Haziel looked up at Joanne. “You know him?”

“Yes, I usually give him some bread when I see him around. He’s had some hard times, but I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to him?”

Joanne let out a heavy sigh, briefly looking toward the bustling market as if she were checking to see if anyone was listening. “There’s been talk around town... about the Black Eagles. They’ve started selling these new potions, nasty stuff that are too strong for many people. More and more people have grown dependent on them."

“The Black Eagles?” Haziel asked.

Joanne’s eyes darted around, voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re not something we should be discussing out here in the open. It’s not safe. Let’s get Frederick to a safer place first. We can talk more after.”

Haziel nodded, sensing the gravity of the situation. She slipped an arm under Frederick’s shoulder, helping him to his feet with Joanne’s assistance. They moved quickly and quietly, steering him away from the crowded market and down a narrow alley that led to the back of Joanne’s stall.

Once they were out of sight, Joanne led them to a small, shaded alcove behind the stall where a few crates and barrels were stacked. It was a quiet spot, hidden from the main thoroughfare, and it seemed safe enough for the moment.

They settled Frederick onto one of the crates, his head lolling to the side as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Joanne knelt beside him, checking his pulse and gently brushing his hair back from his face. “Poor guy, he’s completely out of it.”

Haziel watched, her mind racing with questions. “Joanne, who are the Black Eagles? And what exactly are these potions?”

Joanne glanced up and paused for a moment before speaking. “The Black Eagles are a gang. They’ve been around for a while, but they’ve recently expanded their operations, pushing these potions that are… much more potent than what I've seen before."

Haziel’s jaw tightened as she processed Joanne’s words. “Where can I find them?”

Joanne’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently. “No, no, no. That’s a bad idea. The Black Eagles are not to be messed with. They’ll kill you, or worse.”

Haziel paused, her thoughts turning inward as memories surfaced. She had once lived a life of peace, trying to shield herself and those she loved from the world's cruelties by hiding away in the monastery.

Her mind replayed the scene from that fateful day when the monastery turned to ice. She could swear that she could still hear the voices of the people from back then. I have to take action.

Taking a deep breath, Haziel met Joanne's concerned gaze. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. I’ve seen what happens when people turn a blind eye. If you can’t tell me where they are, I’ll find them myself.”

Joanne’s face paled, “Haziel, you don’t understand. These aren’t just street thugs. The Black Eagles are organized, dangerous, and ruthless. I’ve seen what they do to people who cross them. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I appreciate your concern, Joanne, but I have to do this. If I don’t, more people will suffer. Frederick is just one of many, and I can’t ignore this. Not anymore.”

Joanne sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off a headache. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that,” she muttered. “Fine. If you’re set on this, I’ll tell you what I know. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

Haziel nodded. “I promise.”

Joanne glanced around, ensuring no one was eavesdropping, before lowering her voice. “The Black Eagles have a presence in the underground arena in the slums. You can ask around there, but be discreet."

“Thank you. I’ll be careful, and I’ll find a way to stop them.”

“Just… come back safe, alright?”

Haziel managed a small smile. “I’ll do my best."