3B. Rylek's Folly

Zix sat cross-legged on their bed in the cramped room they shared with their three roommates.

"Zix, I heard that Rylek's looking for someone," Helena's voice cut through the room, sharp and clear. "He needs a… well, a lookalike. Someone to deliver something for him in Blackveil. He didn't say what the item is, but knowing Rylek Timbers, it’s probably something… delicate. Something that requires a certain... subtlety."

"Or maybe," Hori piped up from the corner, leaning against the wall, "it’s a scam. It’s Rylek, after all. He probably needs you to take a fake item and get into some shady back-alley deal. You know how these things go."

"If Rylek’s willing to pay..." Zix said, standing up from the bed and stretching their limbs.

"Rylek wants to meet you at the Verdant Hollow Gardens," Helena said, her tone laced with an air of caution. "The southern edge of the Central Campus. It’s a bit out of the way from the main paths, so you’ll have some privacy. He mentioned something about needing to talk away from prying eyes. Typical."

"Just be careful," She warned in the end, her tone serious for once. "Blackveil’s not like Misthaven. You’ll need to watch your back. Not everyone there is as... friendly as they seem."

"All right, I'm inclined to try what I can. You might want to save two doses if you plan to take one to a private alchemist for analysis, and only show the other one to the university staff in case of desperation. Up to you.

What are you offering me in case of success? . . or in case this scheme bites me in the behind?"

Zix moved through the landscape with steady purpose, his altered form compact yet imposing. Broad-shouldered and thick-limbed, he carried just enough hints of Rylek’s frame to suggest a connection, but the rest—heavyset muscle, unnervingly sharp eyes, and a faintly bestial quality—was all deliberate fabrication. A creature halfway between gnome and something else.

The walk to Blackveil took nearly an hour, the well-trodden road growing quieter as he neared the city. The towering black stone walls loomed ahead, their jagged edges swallowing the morning light. Mist clung to the base of the ramparts, rolling like a living thing.

At the city entrance, the Dragon Guard stood in formation, their polished armor reflecting the morning light. A mix of humans, elves, and a single broad-winged dragonborn, they carried an air of rigid authority. Their insignias—Misthaven’s sigil —were emblazoned on their tabards, a reminder that despite Blackveil’s autonomy, the university’s protection remained firm.

Zix had expected the inspection, and when one of the guards—a tall, stone-faced woman with silver-threaded braids—stepped forward, he already had his expression set in place: mildly impatient, but not hostile.

"Purpose of visit?" she asked, her tone clipped but neutral.

The woman narrowed her eyes but didn’t press it. Instead, she gestured for another guard to step forward—a younger recruit with an open spellbook hovering beside him. With a practiced flick of his fingers, the recruit whispered an incantation, and a faint shimmer of golden energy pulsed around Zix’s form.

A detection spell. Searching for illegal enchantments, dangerous items, or any signs of contraband. Zix kept still, letting the magic wash over him without resistance. He had planned for this. His disguise wasn’t held together by active magic—it was purely his racial ability, something intrinsic, something no simple magic detection spell would unravel or complain about.

After a long pause, the recruit gave a slow nod to his superior. "Nothing suspicious."

The silver-braided guard studied Zix for a moment longer, as if committing his face to memory. Then, finally, she stepped aside.

With a final nod, Zix stepped forward, slipping past the gates and into the heart of the shadowed city.