Death Guns In Another World

The caravan rolled through Velria's gates beneath the last light of day, the horizon painted in hues of rose and amber. The city was alive with noise and color, its stone streets bustling with people even as the sun dipped low. Towers of pale granite loomed above, crowned with banners of crimson and gold that rippled in the evening breeze.

Velria was not just another waypoint. Saeko could feel it in the air—the hum of activity, the faint scent of incense from shrines, the clang of hammers in forges still at work, and the chatter of countless voices blending into a living rhythm. This was a city that pulsed with its own heartbeat, steady and proud.

Barin, the merchant, practically beamed as his wagons entered the trade district. "Safe and sound! And with every barrel, crate, and bolt of cloth intact. By the gods, Saeko, I owe you more than I can count."

Saeko gave him a simple nod, her gaze already sweeping the streets. She had no doubt Alex was somewhere beyond these walls, though she didn't know it yet. Fate was a cruel thing—it never announced itself, only waited patiently in the folds of time.

Once the wagons were stabled and the goods unloaded into Barin's warehouse, Saeko accepted her payment. The pouch was heavy in her hand, but coin was never her concern. Security was. And so, when Barin extended his hand in farewell and offered yet another invitation—this time to a celebratory feast in his honor—Saeko declined.

"I have business in the city," she said, her tone even.

Barin smiled knowingly. "Of course you do. Still, if ever you seek friends in Velria, you'll find them among us."

With that, she departed into the city proper, the twilight deepening around her.

Velria after sunset was a different world. Torches and lanterns flickered to life, casting the narrow streets in pools of warm light. Vendors cried out their last sales of the day—grilled skewers, spiced wine, roasted chestnuts that filled the air with their nutty aroma. Musicians strummed lutes at corners, their melodies competing with the laughter spilling from tavern doors.

Saeko walked through it all, silent and steady, her hand brushing the hilt of her katana whenever a drunken passerby wandered too close. She wasn't used to cities, not really. Too much noise, too many people, and too many eyes that lingered a moment too long.

Eventually, she found a modest inn tucked along a quieter lane, its sign shaped like a crescent moon carved in wood. The innkeeper, a stout woman with streaks of silver in her hair, eyed Saeko's blade but said nothing. A single gold coin was enough for a small room upstairs, a warm bath, and a meal.

The bath was the first thing she took.

Hot water steamed in the wooden tub, and as Saeko lowered herself in, her muscles finally began to unwind. For days she had been tense, sleeping lightly with one hand on her weapon, never fully allowing herself rest. The water seeped into her bones, easing knots of fatigue she hadn't noticed building.

She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. The silence was almost disorienting after the road—no wolves growling in the dark, no clash of steel, no cries of dying bandits. Just the quiet lapping of water against wood and the faint creak of the inn settling around her.

For the first time in days, she allowed herself to breathe deeply.

But peace was fragile. Her thoughts turned to Velria itself, to the guilds she had heard of—the Crescent Moon, the Crimson Flame. If she wanted footing in this world, allies and resources, one of them might be the place to start. Yet a shadow tugged at her mind, whispering of someone she had not seen in too long.

Alex.

She pushed the thought away with a small shake of her head, rising from the bath and drying off. Fate would decide if their paths crossed again.

Downstairs, the inn's common room was alive with the usual nightly crowd. Merchants played dice at a corner table, their laughter brash. A bard plucked a gentle tune near the fireplace. The air was thick with the scent of ale, roasted meat, and pipe smoke.

Saeko chose a seat near the wall, where her back was protected, and ordered a simple meal—stew thick with vegetables, bread crusted brown, and a mug of mead. She ate in silence, observing.

It didn't take long for eyes to find her. A group of mercenaries, loud and already halfway drunk, kept glancing her way. One finally stood, swaggering over with a grin too wide and a confidence built on drink.

"Haven't seen you around before," he said, leaning too close. "A warrior, eh? That sword of yours looks more decoration than weapon. Bet it hasn't tasted blood in months."

The tavern stilled slightly, the mercenary's words drawing attention.

Saeko met his gaze, calm and unflinching.

"Walk away."

The man sneered, reaching for her shoulder. He never touched it.

In a blur, Saeko's hand shot out, gripping his wrist with iron strength. With a twist, she forced him to his knees, the table rattling as his mug toppled. The mercenary yelped in pain, his grin collapsing into a grimace.

"I said," Saeko repeated, her voice like steel, "walk away."

She released him, and he stumbled back, clutching his wrist. His companions muttered among themselves but none dared approach. The bard's tune resumed, conversation picked up again, and the inn returned to life as if nothing had happened.

Saeko resumed her meal, unbothered.

Later that night, with the inn quiet and lanterns dimmed, Saeko stepped onto the small balcony outside her room. The city stretched before her, rooftops glistening with dew under the moonlight. In the distance, the spires of Velria's guild halls rose like sentinels, watching over the sleeping streets.

She rested her hands on the railing, eyes narrowing slightly.

Velria felt different. It wasn't just another city on a map. Something waited here—opportunity, challenge, perhaps even danger. She could sense it, the way the air felt charged, the way shadows seemed to linger longer than they should.