Krow returned to the place where Sucar had a scuffle with his love rival nemesis or whatever their relationship was.

No key.

He leaped the railings, hung off the skyway for a long moment, disregarding the exclamations of shock. Most people quickly recovered, just shook their heads and went on with their morning.

The draculkar build their towns and cities like the largest and most complicated jungle-gyms ever. They should be used to people freerunning Tarzan-style all over the place like, yes.

Still, he fielded a lot of disapproving stares, which he promptly ignored.

He dropped down to the walkway.

No key stuck in awkward places or random crevices or hanging from cracks.

According to Sucar, the key was ordinary, a hunk of plain iron, a carved cylinder capped in dull copper. It should be instantly recognizable as a key, no distinguishing emblems but for a fading white KR stamped on the copper keyhead.

Gods, the questions he had to ask just to get that detail…

Was he so unobservant at that age too?

So caught up in the trivia of his own personal bubble that he didn’t see the world?

Probably.

Krow made a circle of the level, in case the key had been inadvertently kicked outside the range of possible fall by a passerby.

Nothing.

He repeated his actions twice, before the next level down was ground.

Still nothing.

His boots touched the dusty stone of the ground level street.

“Cuji pear juice, sir?” A kid held out a bottle from her bag of juice bottles.

“If I lost something whereabouts could I find it?”

The kid blinked. “The Guard?”

“If not the Guard?”

The kid shrugged. 

Krow gestured for the bottle. Exchanged it for a serpens.

The girl grinned. “You could check the returnmen!”

She jogged off to offer her wares to a group of dusty travelers.

Krow snorted, twisted the bottlecap off. He chugged down the half-liter of juice, cold and fresh. 

Not bad.

Returnmen was the slang for those who stole things and then held the objects for ransom against the owner. He’d done a few jobs in that vein, his last playthrough.

Heirlooms and trophies, mostly – things whose perceived value was elevated only for a single person, or a small group.

It paid for the first piece of armor he’d ever bought from the Catalogues – a grade B Uncommon cuirass.

He couldn’t remember the exact name now.

But he was wearing it when he first opened his eyes in Zushkenar.

Too bad, really, but Krow was planning on spirit-binding the Travelcoat using one of the Uniques he got at the Telanweth Temple.

The advantages of a Starseeker coat he acquired for twelve serpens, slowly upgraded, would cumulatively be greater than any cuirass under grade S Epic he could buy.

At this point in the game timeline, not even the Bourse sold Epic items.

Epic and Legendary rarity were only added with the war expansion, after all.

He walked to place the bottle with a pile of similar empty containers beside an old woman at a stall, one who he noticed was keeping a careful eye on the energetic girl he’d bought from. The old woman smiled at him and nodded.

Bottles were recyclable, even in a game world.

He bought another. 

The taste was great.

Krow sipped cuji pear juice as he watched people walking back and forth, carts and animals kicking up dust on the streets, children picking up anything vaguely shiny and running off to play with it.

All within his designated ‘fall zone’.

Shkav.

Could this get worse?

A kid tripped, box of multi-colored balls falling from an unsteady grip, and burst out crying. The parents immediately stopped and bent over the crying child with soothing noises, putting down their packages as an older brother tried to retrieve all the rolling balls.

Merchants. No average parent would buy their kids that many toys.

  “By all the gods,” a dwarvir snarled as he nearly lost his balance. He glared at the red ball he’d tripped over, kicked it viciously to the side, and stomped off.

The red ball bounced off a wall with excellent springiness. Well-made, part of Krow’s mind commented, leather stuffed with dried rabbitgrass, which became spongy and flexible when properly cured.

He used to make the leather for balls like those, in the early days, to up his leathermaking skill.

The ball bounced a few more times and rolled to the end of the street, where it suddenly disappeared into a recess in the ground.

The juice bottle paused, the lip just touching Krow’s mouth.

That couldn’t be what he thought it was?

Krow dropped the half-drunk bottle on the stall counter, strode across the street to stare at the recess. The older brother of the kid who tripped was already there, sighing in disappointment.

Oh, it just got worse.

It was a sewer.

The narrow openings were punched at regular intervals in the stone street.

Krow looked up.

Then down again.

There were several sewer-openings within the fall zone.

Shkav.

He went back across the street, chugged the cuji pear juice like it was alcohol. He thumped the bottle onto the wooden plank that was the stall counter with more force than necessary.

“Where can I find the nearest Guardhouse?”

“…two levels up, Rerensk Tower.”

“Which one is Rerensk?”

That one got him a disbelieving look. “Eleventh away from the main tower.”

“Thanks.”

The main tower was the highest, the administrative tower, the First Tower. It was easily seen from where Krow stood. He jogged up a few flights to get more perspective.

Huffing when it wasn’t enough, he leaped straight up, then triggered [Double Jump]. He soared upward, grabbed the railing of the walkway above, clambering on.

He laughed a little, having enjoyed the feeling.

Then did it again. 

Jump, then double jump.

He didn’t realize he’d feel nostalgic using a movement spell.

Like the Wind-water Steps he used in Zushkenar, Double Jump gave the user a feeling of weightlessness, of a brief divorce from the burdens of gravity, though not as pronounced as the movement spell of that last life.

Did all movement spells feel like this?

What would Stormglide feel like?

He boosted himself over the next balustrade.

Sure enough, upper or lower reach, the towers were set out in different distances from the main tower.

So, the eleventh would…he looked to the side.

Oh, so near?

Krow was midway between fourth level and fifth, so a simple rappel to the platform below and…

He was about to jump down, when he noticed several of the Guard frowning up at him.

He smiled sheepishly, though they couldn’t see. He quickly moved out of their sight, against the shadow of the tower, and slipped into a shop.

He changed his equipped clothes behind one of the displays, reluctantly stowing away the mask, and walked out the door and down the steps like a civilized person.

One of the guards was bounding up the steps. “Did you see a hooded and masked person on the skyway?”

“Yes?” Krow only felt a little guilty. “He went that way.”

“My thanks.” The guard braced and hurtled past him.

Oh, heh, the guy was also using the double jump Spell.

[You have lied to an officer of the law, wasting the effort and resources of those that protect the masses! +1 Infamy]

Oh shut up.

It looked like freerunning across the draculkar spires was prohibited?

Killjoys.

Gaining the second level, he calmly walked up to the Guardhouse, passing the passel of Guards, and reached for the door handle. 

The door opened, expelling a familiar draculkar.

They blinked at each other, both surprised at the sudden proximity.

“Training Sergeant Amluyr,” greeted Krow, lowering his hand.

It took the other a second to recognize him. 

“Ah, it’s you. You have business in the Guardhouse?” She smiled; a bit more relaxed than the last time they met. “Caught any more burglars?”

“The moment I do, sergeant, you’ll be the first I call.” He grinned. “But no, I wanted to ask. The Guardhouse maintains a lost and found?”

“You lost something?”

“A key.”

“Describe it, if you would.”

“Cylindrical, carved iron. Copper head, with fading white stamped letters.”

She shook her head. “Typical key. I’m the one on desk duty this morning. No keys with that description came in. If you lost it yesterday, you can check inside.”

“Ah, no. It was this morning.” Krow was disappointed.

It couldn’t be that easy, of course.

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thank you, that’s all I can ask.” Krow smiled at the sergeant.

“It may be found yet. You should check later in the day.”

  “I will.”

As they parted ways and he walked away from the Guardhouse, Krow’s smile dimmed. The quest had a time limit. 

Twelve noon.

It was nearly three hours away.

He couldn’t just loiter around the Guardhouse for hours.

Hm. Time for Sucar to be useful.

A quarter-hour later, he was back in mask and cloak, dragging Sucar down the levels after finding him actually having a snack in one of the restaurants near the Realty.

“You haven’t told me what we’re doing yet?” Sucar yelled, tugging at the wrist trapped in Krow’s grip.

“Where are the entrances to the sewers?”

“What? Why?!”

Krow stopped on a flight of stairs, looking at Sucar. “Where do you think you lost the key?”

“Uh. The altercation with Dhurvo? I mean…he and the others did push me around a bit.”

“Good deduction. That place is right there.” Krow pointed straight up. “But, unfortunately, no key in the entire area between the foodmarket and the groundstreet level.”

“And?”

“And do you see what else is on street level?”

Sucar looked at the crowds, wrinkling his nose at the mass of dust and mingled scents of sweat, animals, and produce.

“Lower,” Krow gestured with a hand.

Sucar wrinkled his nose even more, staring at muddy footwear and dusty cobblestone.

“Lower.”

Confused, Sucar leaned over the railing.

He saw the hole. Slowly, he looked up. Then down again.

“Surely you’re not serious?” he questioned weakly.

“I went to the Guardhouse.”

Sucar sputtered, paled, stopped breathing as his eyes widened.

“There’s no key there,” Krow continued easily. “So, the greatest possibility currently, is…that.”

He pointed at the sewer openings.

The blood returned to Sucar’s face. “Y-you didn’t tell them? I mean, I’m already fired, but I also don’t want to be arrest–“

“Sewer entrance,” interrupted Krow. “You did say you had until noon, right? Until then, the secrecy is beneficial.”

“What’s it to you?” Sucar’s mouth opened to say more, but cut himself off before the babble started.

“I don’t have anything pressing today, apart from my business at the Realty.”

Sucar stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. He frowned at the ground, thinking hard. “Um. Boss had a few people deal with the sewers because a buyer had a dispute with the Realty last month…the bottom-level chambers he acquired had effluent seepage in the underground storage….”

Krow waited.

“I think the…fountain maintenance people have an entrance? Otherwise, you have to enter through the First Tower.”

“I?”

“What?”

“I, who has toiled for a stranger, am in fact, not a saint.” Krow declaimed. “Sucar, my friend, do you mean to say you are leaving me to this task, this dangerous quest, alone and unsupported?”

“Uh…” Sucar looked incredibly reluctant.

“I, who has done nothing but assist out of the goodness of my heart—”

  Sucar looked incredibly reluctant and disbelieving.

“—am being abandoned?! By the one to whom I have given all effort? Betrayal!” 

People started to look their way.

“Betrayal upon this earthly—guh!”

Sucar planted an elbow in his gut, none too gently.

“Once again, betrayal, I say,” wheezed Krow, a strained whisper.

“Fine.” Sucar looked a bit ill. “I’ll do it.”

“Great!” Krow straightened, smiling. “Where in this town are the fountain people?”

Sucar’s sigh was long and resigned.