Conquering the Stars with the Undead
Chapter 58: The Fort

Chapter 58: The Fort

Charon pushed open the wooden door to find himself in a narrow hallway.

Other doors lined the walls, leading like an arrow to a stairwell set against the far side. Placards were set beside every door, each carrying a name that began with the word "Lieutenant."

’This must be where they house all the lieutenant rank officers.’

Just like the High Elder said, the door across from his own had "Lieutenant Emerius" emblazoned across it.

Momentarily considering asking Emerius to join him, and deciding against it, Charon set off across the hallway and then down the stairs, counting the floors as he went.

He counted up to seven by the time he reached the ground floor, which led him into an open lobby. A kind old lady was sitting behind the front desk, fiddling with a holo-pad.

Approaching her, Charon gave her a warm smile and asked about a room key.

"Of course, dear, I was told to give you one the moment you asked. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to find me!"

She handed him a brass key with a small metal ring, which he slipped into his pocket.

Leaving the building, his eyes widened as he found himself on a busy paved street. Men and women ran everywhere, ferrying goods or running to reach their destination. In the very center of the road, Charon saw two small steel divots.

Initially confused, his question as to their purpose was answered when a train sped by, a series of cars connected to it.

People just avoided it as it moved, ignoring it in their day-to-day lives.

Glancing around, he saw that this section of town was mostly tall buildings made of wood and brick in a semi-modern style, windows lining the walls that let him look into dozens of different bedrooms.

’This must be a residential district.’

To his left, the apartments continued far into the distance, but to his right, the buildings soon shifted into a series of shops and restaurants.

Cozy smells of baked bread and grilled meats reached his nose, reminding him of home.

People shouted and laughed, sharing stories or trying to sell various wares, their voices blending into a cacophony of pleasant sounds.

It struck Charon as very... normal.

’If I didn’t know any better, I would never guess this was a realm for undead souls. It feels like every other town I’ve seen.’

Ironically, it unnerved him more than most other things he had seen in the River Acheron.

It was too simple in a land that was anything but. Every citizen supposedly carried the soul of someone who had lived a life so impressive that they were sent here after death.

A populace like that shouldn’t be satisfied with such a basic lifestyle.

Shelving his concerns, Charon wandered his way into the throng of moving people, letting himself be carried into the commercial districts.

The first shop he passed was a clothing store offering lots of flowing gowns and fancy suits, the clientele all wearing similar items. It was the kind of place he expected to find Emerius, but had little interest in himself.

Next, he passed an equally high-class eating establishment offering some kind of rare fish dishes, with two large men standing outside to accompany customers inside.

After that, Charon passed all sorts of stores. From swords to sushi, the options were endless, giving him many options to spend his money on.

’If I had any. I’ll need to ask someone when I’ll next get paid.’

The further he walked along the street, the more he noticed it was looping back around like a semicircle. In the center of the district, where the curve began to shift back the other way, a large golden gate stood, splitting the officers off from the true high-class citizens.

A dozen Panoplians stood just outside, their heads moving mechanically to scan the horde of bodies for threats.

Passerbys gave them a wide berth, a brave few stopping to stare for just a second before continuing, their gazes quickly averting once they caught sight of the metal sentinels.

Shaking his head at the exaggerated amount of defense, Charon continued down the street, enjoying his pleasant walk in the afternoon.

Although he was still on edge, there was a peacefulness here that made all of his struggles seem small.

The further he went, the more run-down the buildings became. Fancy restaurants soon turned into regular dining, and then into cheap food. Cracks and fading paint became the new norm, and the people here spoke less and ran more.

People darted across the road, often wearing cloaks and clutching their belongings tightly.

Feeling uncomfortable with all of the shifty looks he was getting, Charon decided to stop at one of the shops on his path, a dingy place with a sign that read "Clarence’s Curiosities."

The door was red with the glass boarded up. Pushing it open, he winced as it made a loud screech, the hinges having not been oiled in possibly centuries.

The interior was dark, only lit by a series of candles suspended from the rafters. Crowded shelves lined the single room, stacked full with bobbles and trinkets. Paintings were stacked near the walls, only a few still hanging.

Pausing to glance at them, he shuddered as he saw warped depictions of people screaming and crying, their faces distorted into impossible proportions.

Willing himself to look away, he perused the different items, occasionally grabbing one to inspect it closely. Most were little more than junk, rusted beyond repair or missing vital pieces.

He even found a weapons rack that held a dozen hilts and nothing else, the blades lost to time.

Moving to the back of the store, he found a display case housing ten porcelain masks. Each of them was a pale white with a black diamond over the right eye, and a red diamond over the left. All ten had a different expression, ranging from a maniacal smile to a deep frown, complete with downturned eyes.

Unable to stop himself, Charon took a step forward and reached down to grab one.

"I see you have identified an item of great mystery."

Jumping at the sound of a deep baritone voice, he whirled and slapped his chest in an attempt to grab his dagger, hitting nothing but fabric and chains as he had left the weapon at the apartment.

Standing just behind him was a man of average build, with brown hair and a black suit. The bottom half of his face was set in an easy-going smile, while the top half was covered completely by a black piece of cloth.

The man gave him a slight bow, placing a white glove over his chest and another behind his back.

"Many apologies, I had not meant to incite fright. I am Oliver, owner of Olivers Oddities."

Breathing heavily, Charon calmed himself and waved the apology away.

"Oliver’s Oddities? I thought this place was called Clarence’s Curiosities?"

The man rose and shook his head a single time.

"I am sorry, that store had to be shut down due to budget constraints. Now, it is Oliver’s Oddities, purveyor of the finest items across the River Acheron. To whom do I have the pleasure of introducing to my wares?"

He struggled not to grin, instead distracting himself by turning his attention back to the strange masks.

"My name is Charon."

Oliver followed his gaze to the display case, nodding slightly in approval as he spoke.

"I see you have identified one of our finest oddities. Men of such advanced tastes are not common in these parts of the Fort; it is truly a blessing to have you among us."

’Does everyone in this part of town talk that way?’

"What can you tell me about the masks?"

Sparing the man a glance, he saw that he had raised a single eyebrow.

"These ’masks’ are, in truth, a single item. It came into my ownership by a man whom I hold in great esteem, who claimed to have found it after adventuring into the Dead Lands. Whether this is factual or not, I can not determine."

Smirking at the thought of ten people trying to wear the connected mask, he bit back a chuckle and shook his head.

"How is that supposed to work? Do you line a group up and have them all wear it at once?"

Oliver raised a single gloved hand to his lips, covering his mouth before giving a single controlled giggle.

"Heavens no, the mask is intended to be worn by an individual. The ten variants you see are the ways the oddity presents itself under your gaze. Many who come here will see only one or two masks. Your ability to see ten means the mask does not admonish your judgement."

’So it’s choosing to let me see it in its entirety.’

It was poetic in a sense. The mask wasn’t alive, yet it was still able to make choices for itself.

"How much for it?"