The Pillar

He had come to this dimly lit bar for a singular purpose: to gather whispers of information, believing that such a place, steeped in shadows and secrets, could offer insights for free. In an era devoid of social media, the tavern was a sanctuary for tales that floated like smoke in the air. Arthur listened intently, filtering through the cacophony of voices that filled the room. Some patrons spoke of mundane daily affairs, while others exchanged rumors that danced on the edge of intrigue.

Yet, many of these rumors failed to capture Arthur's interest; he dismissed them as trivial gossip, mere echoes of infidelity and betrayal. Time slipped away, and just as he began to feel the weight of his fruitless search, he heard a conversation that ignited a spark of curiosity deep within him.

In a far corner, four men huddled over their drinks, their voices low and conspiratorial. A middle-aged man, whose weary face betrayed the burden of years, leaned in closer to his companions. "Guys, have you heard?" he began, his tone heavy with urgency. 

"What is it this time? Every day you come with a different story; what lies have you brought today?" another man teased, his laughter tinged with skepticism.

"This time it's true! I saw it with my own eyes!" the first man insisted, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped his drink. "Do you remember what happened a decade ago?"

"What? You mean the Dawn of Death?" a third man interjected, his expression suddenly serious, eyes half-lidded from drink.

"Yes, that! I saw them again today. They're back!" The storyteller leaned forward, his brow furrowed with worry. "The officers from outside the isle have returned."

"Is that true?" the skeptic asked, disbelief etched across his features.

"You don't believe me? Just wait until it begins again," the man replied, weighing his words as if they were stones cast into a still pond.

Silence enveloped the table, the other three men exchanging glances heavy with unspoken thoughts. Arthur's heart raced with excitement; the mention of the Dawn of Death and the officers from beyond the isle piqued his interest like a moth drawn to flame. He could almost taste the thrill of escape.

"Beer for me, please," a voice interrupted, pulling Arthur from his reverie. He turned to see who had spoken, and his heart skipped a beat.

Seated beside him was a figure cloaked in mystery. The man wore a high hat and an overcoat, beneath which he donned a frock coat and black trousers. His eyes, deep and dark as an abyss, held secrets untold, while his short brown hair framed his face like a dark halo. Most striking, however, was his skin—a bluish-purple hue reminiscent of a corpse, yet his features suggested he was no older than thirty.

Arthur's pulse quickened. This was the same man he had noticed spying on him earlier that morning.

"Here's your beer; it'll be one Tenir," Piro, the bartender, said, handing the drink to the stranger. He regarded the newcomer with a curious gaze before speaking again. "You seem new here. What part of the isle have you crawled from?"

"Hahaha! I've been too busy making money to explore this side of the isle. I'm from a far-off corner in the south," the man replied, laughter spilling from his lips as he tossed a bronze coin to Piro.

"Is that so? I don't know why, but today seems to have drawn in many newcomers. Welcome! Feel free to ask for anything," Piro's heavy voice resonated with warmth.

"And I'm Piro. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," the bartender continued, his demeanor inviting.

"Thank you very much. I'm Jason, but you can call me Jas. I'll be in your care," he said, a soft smile gracing his lips. 

Arthur observed Jason's smile, sensing a duality within it—genuine yet laced with something darker, as if he were pitying Piro.

After the introductions, Jason took another sip of his beer before turning his gaze toward Arthur. "I'm Jason. You can call me Jas, as I've introduced myself before."

"You can call me Arthur," he replied, matching Jason's gaze with a cool indifference.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur," Jason said, his smile unwavering. "You seem new here too."

"How did you know?" Arthur asked, feigning curiosity, though a flicker of irritation danced beneath the surface.

"Hahaha! I can tell," Jason laughed, his eyes glinting with mischief as he took another sip.

Arthur found Jason's manner irritating, as if he were mocking him. "How?" he pressed, eager for a more substantial answer.

Jason set down his beer, his expression shifting to one of seriousness as he scrutinized Arthur for a few moments. Then, he turned to observe the other patrons, a contemplative look on his face. After a pause, he returned his gaze to Arthur. "Everyone here seems to have someone to talk to, familiar faces and shared histories. But you… you sit alone, drinking in silence. It's clear you don't belong here, and that's how I figured you were new."

"Is that so? You're quite observant," Arthur responded, his tone laced with mockery, testing the waters.

"Hahaha! I get that a lot. I suppose I was born with keen eyes," Jason replied, laughter bubbling forth once more.

What is the issue with this guy? Arthur thought, studying Jesan with growing wariness. 

He drained his beer, the bitter liquid leaving him feeling restless. Rising from his seat, he decided it was time to leave. I have nothing more to gain here; I should return to my room and rest, he mused.

"Arthur, wait!" 

Just as he turned to depart, Jason's voice called out, more urgent than before, as if a different persona had emerged. 

Arthur glanced back, but Jason was no longer beside him. Confusion washed over him as he looked left and right, searching for the enigmatic figure. Then, he heard it again—a voice echoing in his mind, chilling and insistent: 

[If you wish to uncover the truths about the isle, meet me tomorrow at midnight in the center.]

The words hung in the air, laden with mystery, as Arthur stood frozen, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon him.