Backlund was a city of contrasts that assaulted the senses from the moment they emerged from the alley. The capital of the Loen Kingdom was a sprawling metropolis where the wealthy districts gleamed with gas lamps and modern conveniences, while the factory districts choked under clouds of industrial smoke. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming after the provincial atmosphere of Tingen.
Klein, Welch, and Naya found themselves in the East Borough, one of the working-class areas where their modest funds would stretch furthest. The notebook had provided Klein with the address of a boarding house that catered to "individuals with unusual circumstances"—a euphemism, he suspected, for Beyonders who needed lodging without too many questions asked.
The boarding house was run by a middle-aged woman named Mrs. Doyle, whose sharp eyes and knowing smile suggested she was more than she appeared. When Klein presented her with the coded phrase from the notebook, her demeanor shifted from polite professionalism to genuine welcome.
"Ah, friends of the hidden world," she said, ushering them into a parlor that was warded with symbols Klein was beginning to recognize as protective charms. "You look like you've had quite an adventure. Come, let's get you settled, and then we can discuss what brings you to Backlund."
As they were shown to their rooms, Klein noticed that the other residents of the boarding house all had the distinctive aura of Beyonders. There was a young woman whose eyes held the same distant quality as Welch's—another Seer, perhaps. An elderly gentleman radiated the controlled power of someone from the Warrior pathway. And in the corner of the common room, a figure in a hooded cloak emanated an aura of shadows that made Klein's skin crawl.
"Welcome to the underground," Mrs. Doyle explained once they were settled. "Backlund has the largest population of Beyonders in the kingdom, but we've learned to be discrete. The official churches maintain the facade that supernatural phenomena are rare and easily explained, but those of us who know better have created our own networks."
She poured tea from a service that Klein suspected was more than decorative—the cups were inscribed with symbols that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at them. "Now then, what brings three newly awakened Beyonders to the capital? And more importantly, why do I sense the mark of The Fool on one of you?"
Klein nearly choked on his tea. "You can sense that?"
Mrs. Doyle's smile was enigmatic. "My dear boy, I've been in this business for thirty years. I can recognize the touch of any of the twenty-two pathways, and The Fool's mark is... distinctive. It's been centuries since anyone successfully made contact with that particular entity."
She leaned forward, her expression becoming serious. "The Fool pathway is one of the most dangerous, not because of its inherent corruption—quite the opposite, actually—but because of what it represents. The Fool is the pathway of change, of overturning established orders, of revealing hidden truths. Those who follow it tend to attract attention from very powerful enemies."
As if summoned by her words, Klein felt a familiar stirring in his consciousness. The Fool's presence was stronger here in Backlund, as if the city's concentration of supernatural energy provided a better conduit for its influence. And with that presence came knowledge—not just about the immediate situation, but about the larger forces at work in the world.
Klein saw, with a clarity that was both exhilarating and terrifying, the true scope of the hidden world they had entered. The various churches weren't just religious organizations—they were the earthly representatives of actual gods, beings of immense power who shaped human civilization according to their own incomprehensible agendas. The royal family of Loen wasn't just a political dynasty—they were the descendants of ancient Beyonders whose bloodline carried supernatural authority.
And beneath it all, in the spaces between the official power structures, moved the secret organizations of independent Beyonders—some seeking knowledge, others pursuing power, and a few working to maintain the delicate balance that kept the world from descending into supernatural chaos.
"I can see you're beginning to understand," Mrs. Doyle observed, watching Klein's expression. "The Fool's gift of revelation is both a blessing and a curse. You'll see truths that others miss, but you'll also become a target for those who profit from keeping those truths hidden."
Welch, who had been unusually quiet since their arrival, suddenly spoke up. "I'm seeing something. A vision of Klein, but not as he is now. He's... different. More powerful. And he's not alone—there are others with him, sitting around a table that exists somewhere beyond normal space."
The vision seemed to exhaust Welch, but Klein felt a thrill of recognition. The table Welch had seen was the one from the diagram in the notebook—the meeting place of the Tarot Club in the Sefirah Castle. Somehow, The Fool was showing Welch glimpses of Klein's potential future.
"Interesting," Mrs. Doyle murmured. "It seems The Fool has plans for you, young man. But potential futures are just that—potential. Whether you achieve that destiny will depend on how well you navigate the challenges ahead."
As if responding to her words, there was a knock at the front door of the boarding house. Mrs. Doyle's expression immediately became alert, and Klein noticed that several of the other residents had tensed as well.
"We're not expecting anyone," Mrs. Doyle said quietly. "And legitimate visitors don't usually call at this hour."
Through the window, Klein could see a figure in an expensive coat standing on the doorstep. But there was something wrong with the figure's posture, something that suggested it wasn't entirely human.
"The cult," Naya whispered, her Spectator abilities apparently picking up on the visitor's emotional state. "They've found us."
But Klein shook his head. The aura emanating from the figure outside was different from the chaotic corruption of the Fallen Creator's cultists. This was something more organized, more controlled—and potentially more dangerous.
"Not the cult," Klein said, feeling The Fool's knowledge flowing through him. "Something else. Someone who knows what we are and wants to make contact."
Mrs. Doyle moved to the window and peered out carefully. When she turned back to them, her expression was grim. "It's a representative of the Aurora Order," she said. "One of the most dangerous secret organizations in the kingdom. They serve the True Creator—another name for the Fallen Creator—but they're far more sophisticated than the rabble you encountered in Tingen."
The knocking came again, more insistent this time. Klein realized that their flight from Tingen had only bought them temporary safety. The forces they had awakened were far more persistent and resourceful than he had hoped.
But as The Fool's presence stirred in his mind, Klein felt a strange sense of anticipation rather than fear. Whatever was coming, he was beginning to understand that it was all part of a larger pattern—a cosmic game in which he was destined to play a central role.
The crimson moon, visible through the boarding house's windows, seemed to pulse with approval. The next phase of Klein's transformation was about to begin.