"Alright, Cirino. Everything's shitty now, but you've been through worse."
He muttered it under his breath like a mantra, a faint forced grin forcing its way to his face before it vanished just as quickly.
Cirino sat slouched on a park bench, surrounded by the dull hum of a city that didn't seem to care that he existed. Children shrieked in laughter somewhere behind him, carriages rolled by on the street beyond the trees, and a trio of pigeons fought over a piece of bread by his boot.
If he had it his way, he might've fought as a fourth pigeon.
He shook the thought; he still had dignity.
Where's your honor as a soldier, Cirino? Focus.
The redhead currently had both of his hands held out to himself.
In one hand, he held his entire fortune: two Crownmarks and five Suns.
Yeah. That won't last him a week.
In the other, the emerald—shining like it knew how tempting it was. Even under the pale light, it glowed as if goading Cirino into selling it for his sweet, sweet money.
Focus, Cirino…
You're not living here; just wait for the captain or the higher-ups to fix this mess.
A sigh escaped his lungs. That could take them weeks, maybe months if he's particularly unlucky.
And given just how shit his luck was these days, Cirino would reckon it might take a year.
In the meantime, he needed a bed, a meal, and a way to stave off starvation in the street.
He was trained to survive against the wilderness; he could live off rations, sleep under stars, and navigate forests crawling with monsters.
But he wasn't in the wilderness—this was a different kind of forest.
It was a city—a jungle of smoke and steam that had a way of swallowing you whole.
Pocketing the money into his coat, Cirino felt to check and see if the letter from his Captain was still there. Good, he needed proof to show that he had been sent here by the army—just in case. He wasn't taking any chances with the Choir prowling around.
He turned to the gem in his left palm, brushing a thumb along its smooth surface. It felt right to just hold, as if it was the missing link all his life. He couldn't explain it, the familiarity with the emerald in his hand.
Cirino tossed it up lightly, juggling it in one hand. A smile crept across his face, genuine and boyish all the same.
Sister Marietta was right, I hadn't grown up at all.
Still the same childish brat from before, just taller and more tired.
He tossed the gem back up, catching it between his fingers. This time, however, he noticed a pair of eyes staring at him. A young boy stood just a few paces from where he stood, staring up at the glimmering stone with stars in his eyes.
Shit, did he see that?
"Uhm." Cirino froze, awkwardly lowering the gem.
He grew up around kids, but that didn't mean that he knew how to talk to them. "…"
What was he supposed to say? Military training prepared him for demons and monsters, not children.
The young boy's wide, unblinking eyes followed the gemstone. It gleamed between Cirino's fingers, sunlight piercing through its surface, shining a green light over the boy's features. He looked entranced—a cat eyeing a dangling thread as if it were a helpless mouse.
"You're gonna drop it, mister!" The boy finally said. His tone was high-pitched, blunt—cutting through the awkward silence.
Cirino blinked, looking down towards the gem. He held it in between fingers, nearly letting it fall. But Cirino was never that careless as to let something this precious drop. He pulled it up, showing it to the child. With a small smirk, he tossed it up and caught it in between his two fingers again.
"You've got a lot of faith in me, huh?" Cirino sarcastically asked. He twirled the gem around his fingers.
The boy excitedly looked at Cirino, then at his gem. "Is that real?!"
"Real enough," I think. "Found it on the train. Might trade it for a meal or two."
The boy tilted his head. "You shouldn't."
Cirino frowned. "And why is that?"
The boy didn't answer, not yet. He simply stared at the gem in between Cirino's fingers. Watching, eyeing the crystal as if it were the one speaking to him. A hidden conversation, one Cirino couldn't exactly hear.
Then, quietly: "Because it's already yours."
What?
Cirino froze, eyes opening slightly. His fingers squeezed against the stone, nearly trembling. He looked at the boy. "…What did you just say?"
The boy's smile stretched—one too wide for Cirino's comfort. No longer the innocent childish grin, it was something else entirely. "It's happy you're holding it."
A faint chill crawled up his spine. The air thinned, the background chatter silenced into a muffle that somehow felt more deafening. He continued to stare at the boy, blue eyes meeting his gaze—yet even the sun seemed to refuse to touch the boy.
Then—
"Archie!" A woman called out. Her body was covered in black—from her dress to her veil, he could only scarcely make out the blue eyes beneath the shroud. Cirino blinked, turning to the boy who turned and waved to the woman.
"Coming, mommy!" The boy turned and ran towards his mother. Cirino caught glimpses of raven patterns on his dress shirt, and the veiled woman had similar designs on her own veil. Were they of noble blood? Only they seemed to have crests and matching designs—they looked wealthy, too.
Cirino awkwardly waved their way, but the unease on his brow was evident. He looked at the gem, the shining crystal that stared back seemed to speak to him in silence. Cirino gulped.
I have to get rid of this…
After what had just happened, he'd rather not have the gem with him any second longer. He could throw it to the rivers, to the dumps, anywhere that isn't on his body—
His stomach growled, and a blue eye twitched under the chill sunlit air. Cirino had a better idea.
[…]
Pawn shop… pawn shop…
Cirino's eyes darted from one street sign to the next. Clad in his worn uniform, he trudged through the frost-slick cobblestones, each breath curling white in the cold air. Even with his layers, he could already feel the chill biting through him.
I need to find a place to pawn this off…
He'd tried a handful already—none wanted the gemstone. In hindsight, walking into random shops and waving it around while asking, "You want this?" wasn't the smartest approach.
One clerk told him—quite colorfully—to fuck off. Another didn't even look up from his paper. The third, at least, was polite enough to point him toward a proper pawn shop.
Did they really have to call me a country bumpkin, though?
Just because he'd never lived in a city before didn't mean he'd been raised in a barn.
Was being rude a requirement to live in this city? Cirino had thought hospitality was at least a standard courtesy. His eyes dropped to his uniform; he clicked his tongue. Maybe he should've changed into something less eye-catching. It wasn't every day you saw a soldier strolling through the streets.
Considering what I've heard, I might be a rare sight.
Were there even other soldiers stationed here? Or was it really just him? The city guard might count, technically—they were part of the Imperial Forces, after all—but all they did was stand around, watch gates, and pretend to look important. An invasion this deep in Imperial territory? Unlikely.
Lucky them…
Why was he the one sent out instead? Surely there had to be someone better to deploy than a fifteen-year-old conscript. Cirino shook his head. No point dwelling on that now.
Eventually, he found himself standing before the store. His gaze lifted to the sign swinging slightly in the cold air.
Wycliffe & Sons Appraisals
Cirino blinked. The name matched what the one decent clerk from earlier had told him. This was it—all signs pointed here. His hand brushed his pocket, thumb tracing over the gem's cool, smooth surface. It felt strangely natural to hold—comforting, even. Some small, unreasonable part of him didn't want to let it go.
But then he remembered what that kid had said.
Forget it.
If experience had taught him anything, it was that things like this usually came with a curse. For all he knew, it could be a Demon Artifact or a corrupted sigil straight from the Demon Realms.
It was too good to be true, anyway. Free money didn't exist in this world.
There was always a hidden price.
Cirino could've run to the Choir, he could've reported the gem to a superior officer—but he knew better, doing that was a one-way ticket to getting himself shot in the back of the head. The Choir was ruthless in that aspect.
No, he'd pawn it off and be done with it. If it did have any corrupting elements, it would've corrupted him long ago. He recalled an old briefing he had, one where they spoke of the dangers of Malethic Corruption. If the Emerald had such an effect, it would've corrupted him by now.
With a deep breath and gathering his resolve, Cirino stepped inside the store. The bell rang as the door swung, and Cirino was greeted with the sight of antiques and artifacts displayed within shelves and glass cases. Old rifles, revolvers, and rustic blades were things he found familiar among the cases. His soldier days allowed him to find blades of Aethwynn origin and guns from the old era.
Along with that, there were old toys and dolls as well. Cirino felt a pang of nostalgia, one he quickly shook off. His siblings had similar toys, less well-kept but a lot more sentimental.
There were three people: an elderly man by the counter, a boy around his age dusting the shelves, and the youngest just tinkering with what looked to him like a mechanical toy.
The Elderly man turned to him.
"Welcome to Wycliffe and Sons," He bowed. The other two simply nodded his way. He smiled gently, clasping his hands together. "Please, how may we help you?"
How, actual hospitality. That was rare in these parts.
"Wycliffe, right?" Cirino awkwardly smiled. "I have an item here—"
The elderly man laughed. "Wycliffe was my father's name. Are you new to this city? I don't recognize you."
That made Cirino blink. Does that mean this man's well-connected? This city was massive, with a population numbering in the millions. To figure him out as a new citizen was impressive—
"How did you—"
"Oh, dear boy, I haven't seen a uniform like yours in over a month. Last I checked, the army garrison here was transferred in total."
…
That made sense. Cirino looked down at his uniform. Right, he was still wearing it. With the local army garrison in shambles, he doubted anyone would've seen a soldier in a month.
Transferred… that's the story they're going with, huh?
Cirino still pondered. What happened on his way to the city? The event must've happened in between his departure and arrival, since he hadn't received a major update in his orders. As well-run as the military machine was, it had its flaws. News can travel slowly, especially when you have no idea where to reach.
As Cirino pondered in silence, the elder decided to speak. Clearing his throat, he introduced himself.
"You can call me Zachary—I own this humble abode with my two sons. This is Walter, this is William."
The boy of his age waved, so that must be Walter. William, the younger, simply nodded Cirino's way. He waved back to them both, but only the former seemed to smile in response.
"If you're looking for work, I'm afraid we're not hiring," Zachary said. Considering the boy's tattered clothes, he doubted he had a lot of assets to buy anything. Using that same logic, Zachary assumed that he hadn't had much to sell, either.
Cirino shook his head in response.
"Actually—"
He fished into his coat while he walked to the counter. Pulling the green gem, he showed it to the appraiser. Zachary blinked, eyeing the shining emerald. Cirino placed it on the counter, nodding Zachary's way and allowing him to inspect it. For some reason, it took a considerable amount of willpower to let go—but all the more reason to part ways with it.
"Fascinating…" Zachary uttered to himself.
The old man grasped at the gem—gently brushing against the crystal's surface. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a loupe attached to a gold rustic chain. Zachary moved the glass to his eye and looked into the gem.
"Where did you get this?" Zachary asked. "It's honestly impeccable. I've never seen a higher-quality gem."
It was immaculate. The gem was clear, no fractures found within. Its green and blueish hue was just the right color. The tone wasn't too bright to resemble beryl, yet not too dark to lose its brilliance. It was eye-clean, no visible flaws to the naked eye, and even under the loupe.
"I—" Cirino paused, turning to the man. Should he mention that fact? It could ruin his chance at selling it. "I found it on a train, a stranger left it for me."
"Left? Dear boy, you didn't steal this, did you?"
Cirino blinked, immediately flushing. "N-No, I didn't. He really just left it to me."
"Hah, I was joking—don't worry, origins aside, I don't think you're the type to steal." Zachary set the stone down. "I'd need a deeper analysis to gauge the proper price, but you're looking at around thirty Aureals at least."
Thirty… Aureals… at least?
You can see the notes in his eyes. That was more money than he had ever owned. Forget renting; he could buy the apartment with that much cash! Of course, maintaining it would cost a lot more, but still—
He'd never say no to free money.
"Now—hold on, boy," Zachary said, sensing his excitement. "As expensive as that is, I don't think I'd be able to pay you in full—and, uh…"
Zachary hummed. "I doubt the other shops here have the means to pay you. What I can do instead is pay you five Aureals up-front, and the rest of the money I'd send to your account."
Okay, slight issue…
"I don't have an account." Cirino didn't really see the use for one. He never really stayed anywhere, and he was offered enough food to last him during his time in the army. In truth, it'd be more accurate to say Cirino had no real idea how money worked.
And yet still, his greed could not be satiated.
Zachary blinked. "Oh, well—then you can come here and claim your payment in cash in around a week? Let's say."
Cirino happily nodded. "That would be fine."
"Alright, then. Let me know your name, and I'll write you up a receipt and a binding contract to make this legal. We wouldn't want to face any legal trouble, do we?"
Zachary reached down onto the counter to take a clipboard and a pen. Setting it down, he wrote the details of a contract before handing it to Cirino to read. Cirino looked into it, found it fair, and set it back down. Before he could sign it, however, he had a thought.
Wait, it could still be corruptive…
Would he really leave a potentially dangerous emerald to this man after such a pleasant purchase? He could stay quiet, do nothing, and let the purchase take place, but—
"Wait." Cirino began, putting the contract down. "There might be a possibility that this thing's…" Cirino tried to find a euphemism. "Corruptive."
Zachary blinked. For a moment, the old man stared. His silver gaze bearing on his irises, as if to try and read into him. Cirino felt a bit of sweat form on the back of his nape, looking away for a moment. In hindsight, maybe he should've told him that earlier.
"Ah—is that so?" To his surprise, the old man let out a sigh.
The old man looked at the gem, inspecting it. Nothing's too good to be true, and this emerald was a little too perfect. Not to worry, however, he did have the means to test it.
"If you're concerned, dear boy, worry not. I can test it right now, my son is studying for the entrance exams at Saint Auster. He can take a look and see if there's any Malethic influence in it. He's majoring in Chthonis studies, after all."
Chthonis studies? That's a major?
He thought the Choir would've protested at such a reckless course. Did that really exist? Saint Auster was funded by the current Royal Family, the Khayons, so if there was such a study, the Choir could do little against it.
Cirino pondered on it.
Chthonis—also known as the Demon Realms—was an endless realm housing demons and monstrosities mankind could only imagine. The Empire of Brastonne and the mighty High-Crown had pushed them back, preventing the total collapse of their world. This was as far as Cirino truly knew; he wasn't much of a historian, and the battles he had with their forces left little to really imagine.
How did we manage to survive being beset by these things for so long?
He had fought the monsters of Chthonis—it was his job as a soldier. They were terrifying, faster than bullets, stronger than steel; it took a special type of ammunition even to fight back. They were physical menaces, and yet their reach stretched even to the soul. Demonic Corruption was a constant threat, so one couldn't be too cautious.
With Cirino deep in thought, the old man cleared his throat. The boy blinked, a flush forming on his face as he covered his mouth, stifling the awkward grin.
"Walter, come over."
The boy, his age, nodded, making his way to them. The young man had brown hair and spectacles over his blue eyes. He wore an apron and pulled out two rubber gloves from his hand. He wore them, stretching the rubber onto his wrist. Taking the gem, he looked to Cirino.
"If you would come with me—I think it'd be better for you to see, just in case," Walter said, nudging Cirino along. He walked past the shelves, into a door by the corner of the room, hidden by the wall.
Cirino and the old man turned to one another. The former was hesitant, the latter laughed. "Go on, then. Walter knows what he's doing, don't worry. He doesn't bite."
Cirino watched as the old man stayed behind. He wouldn't go in, then? He supposed that made sense; someone had to man the counter.
With a sigh, he entered the door.