Emisarry Of Time And Space-Chapter 210 - 211: Falad.

(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don't hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

Power stones people, Gimme it.

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The entire city felt… alive.

Ancient.

Purpose-built.

Seris swallowed.

The foot traffic was packed now, Sylgrid from countless settlements converging toward the inner layers. The hum of voices, movement, and mana filled the air, low and constant.

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They all had to admit it.

They were impressed—very impressed.

They had expected something grand, certainly, but not to this extent. Building a structure like this, so deep within the Jade Forest, was no small undertaking. It wasn't just architecture; it was logistics, planning, sustained labor over generations. The capital didn't look like something that had been constructed hastily or opportunistically. It looked cultivated.

The entire city felt like a secret—one deliberately concealed beneath the forest canopy, hidden in plain sight. From above, the dense foliage would swallow any trace of civilization. From within, however, it was unmistakable: this was the heart of Sylgrid society.

They had to hand it to them.

Yet the contrast between the capital and the settlements they had passed through earlier was jarring. The Ruk they had visited felt almost peripheral by comparison—functional, modest, restrained. Here, everything radiated permanence and authority.

Even Arlen noticed.

He didn't say it out loud, but the imbalance was obvious. Power, resources, and influence were overwhelmingly centralized here. Whatever autonomy the smaller settlements had, it was conditional at best.

Seris and Erevan exchanged a glance.

Now they understood.

They finally understood why the Sylgrid woman from the Ruk had cut her husband off so sharply when he spoke about the capital. Resentment toward this place—no matter how justified—was dangerous. Open malice would not just be frowned upon; it would be crushed.

Holding grudges here came with consequences.

Still, they weren't here to admire architecture.

"What's next?" Jalen asked quietly.

The group turned toward the Sylgrid accompanying them. He stood calmly at the edge of the path, observing the flow of traffic into the city. He was of average height, his features worn but steady. Middle-aged, if Seris had to guess. Someone experienced enough to have seen this place change over time.

"We go in," the Sylgrid said. "And we contact Lord Tala's associate. He'll arrange for you to enter without suspicion."

Arlen frowned slightly.

"Do we really have to sneak in?" he asked, glancing toward the open entrances. "The place is packed. We could just blend in."

Selene moved before anyone else could respond.

She stepped closer, reached up, and grabbed Arlen by the ear.

"How many times," she said evenly, "have I warned you not to judge things solely by what you can perceive?"

She tugged slightly—not hard, but firm enough to make her point.

"Just because you can't sense scrutiny doesn't mean it isn't there."

"Ow—ow—okay, okay!" Arlen said quickly. "I get it. It won't happen again."

Selene released him and stepped back as though nothing had happened.

Arlen rubbed his ear, visibly aggrieved—but the boys knew better. He was probably enjoying the attention far more than he let on.

Erevan shook his head, amused.

"Yes," the Sylgrid continued, unfazed by the exchange. "There are detection measures at the entrances. They're designed to identify non-Sylgrid presences. Cunning monsters have attempted infiltration before. Most don't make it far."

That explanation immediately brought several academy lessons to mind. Monsters capable of disguising themselves. Parasites that mimicked mana flow. Entities that slipped through physical defenses by exploiting perception gaps.

Soon after, the Sylgrid escort led them off the main path and gestured for them to stop. Without another word, the Sylgrid rejoined the larger flow of traffic heading into the capital, disappearing seamlessly among their kin.

The six of them remained behind, concealed within a quiet pocket of forest just off the main route.

They lay low.

This wasn't the moment for mistakes.

"What assurance do we have that they haven't already noticed us?" Thaddeus asked suddenly.

Arlen bumped his shoulder lightly.

"You shouldn't ask things like that now," he muttered. "Bad luck."

"It's a valid concern," Thaddeus replied, frowning. "We could be wasting time hiding."

"If this is about not letting you conceal us from the start," Erevan said with a sigh, "you know better than that."

"I can handle it," Thaddeus insisted.

Seris stepped in before the tension could escalate.

"We trust you," she said gently. "Completely. But conserving your strength until we're inside is the better choice."

Thaddeus stared at her for a moment, then huffed and looked away.

"Whatever," he muttered. "But we should still plan for what happens if things go wrong."

No one disagreed.

Selene spoke next.

"He's right. We've all thought about it. The risk is high. But there aren't many alternatives. If it comes down to it, we fight if we can and retreat if we must. Either way, we can handle ourselves."

She paused briefly.

"And if something beyond us appears… we adapt."

They nodded in agreement.

All except Arlen.

"Honestly," he said with a shrug, "I think you're all worrying too much. We still have Onion boy backing us."

Selene sighed, but no one argued.

That was how much faith they had in Orion.

Two hours passed quickly.

The forest remained quiet until several familiar signatures approached. The same Sylgrid who had escorted them earlier emerged from the trees, accompanied by another presence—older, steadier, unfamiliar.

The contact.

They stepped into view without hostility.

The newcomer looked them over carefully, eyes sharp but not unfriendly.

"Hello, humans," he said. "You may call me Falad."

Seris stepped forward without hesitation.

"Hello, Falad. I'm Tyla," she said, offering a polite smile.

Falad hummed softly, studying her.

"That's an unusual name for a Chronos," he remarked.

The comment caught them off guard. It was clear now that Falad knew more than was obvious.

But then he chuckled.

"Though I suppose with how many of you there are, strange names are inevitable. You can't recycle the same ones forever." He laughed at his own joke.

Seris simply smiled.

"So," Falad said, tilting his head slightly, "I hear you're looking for a friend."