A gentle but insistent nudging stirred me from the shadowy embrace of sleep. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Adelia’s figure hovering above me.

“Come on, Mara! Up, up!” Adelia’s vibrant and excited voice cut through the remnants of my slumber.

A groan escaped my lips as my consciousness gradually anchored in reality. “Adelia, what’s the rush?” 

“You’re going into the city with Jean today!” Adelia’s reminder hit me like a jolt, instantly propelling me into alertness. I sat up, swinging my legs over the bed’s edge, feeling a flutter of excitement in my stomach.

“Oh, right!” I scolded myself lightly, a bashful warmth spreading across my cheeks.

Adelia rushed to the wardrobe and selected a dress for me. It was made of light beige fabric with tiny blue flowers embroidered along the neckline and hem. I admired its simplicity, suspecting it once belonged to Adelia’s mother.

Instead of pulling my hair into the customary village bun, Adelia tied a blue ribbon around my head like a halo—the deep blue of the ribbon matching the flowers on the dress.

“Your hair is so lovely."

“Thank you, Adelia,” I replied, my voice filled with genuine gratitude for the young girl’s kindness since my unexpected arrival.

Adelia then retrieved a small wooden chest from the trunk at the foot of the bed. The chest bore intricate carvings on it.

“Inside are my mother’s makeup items. I’m sure she would be okay if you used them.”

My fingers delicately traced the carvings, feeling the whispers of the past beneath my touch. When I opened the chest, I found cherished cosmetics inside. A warm smile bloomed on my lips as I carefully selected a modest blush and a dark pot of mascara, perfect for highlighting my brown eyes.

“Perfect,” Adelia whispered as I turned to face her. 

A light, tentative knock on the front door abruptly interrupted our moment. Adelia’s excitement bubbled over into an exhilarated squeal. My cheeks warmed, and my heart fluttered at the realization that Jean had arrived earlier than expected. The muffled sound of Tomlin’s welcoming voice greeting Jean filtered through the house, soon followed by another knock, this time at our room’s door.

“Father!” Adelia cried out, her eagerness evident as she flung the door open to reveal Tomlin standing there, his face etched with a gentle smile that shifted into a more contemplative expression as his gaze fell upon me.

“Jean’s waiting for you,” he said, his voice carrying a note of paternal concern.

I entered the living space to find Jean standing there, momentarily lost for words at the sight of me.

“Samara, you look...” he started, his voice trailing off.

“Thank you, Jean,” I replied, my voice steady even though my heart was racing.

Tomlin, breaking the momentary enchantment, reminded us of practicalities. “Don’t dawdle now, or you’ll be caught in the queues into Aeloria.”

As we were about to step out, Tomlin handed me a cloak. “Wear this in the city. Your hair might attract unwanted attention."

I tilted my head, a flicker of confusion in my eyes. 

Tomlin let out a knowing chuckle. “You’ll understand soon enough.” 

As we embarked on our journey, the familiar landscapes of Verdantvale faded into the background. The road to the city stretched before us like a ribbon across the vast, open plains. The relentless sun hung high in the sky, and not a single cloud offered us no shade or respite.

The first glimpse of Aeloria came into view, and I found myself momentarily breathless. Below us, the city sprawled majestically, an intricate tapestry of structures nestled in the lush embrace of a verdant forest.

The journey down the slope seemed to stretch endlessly, the city growing ever more extensive and more imposing with each turn of the cart’s wheels. 

Upon reaching the city’s outskirts, we joined a lengthy queue of carts and travelers waiting for passage through the grand city gates. My eyes were drawn to the intricate designs etched into the massive gate, as well as the people and goods in the other carts. The line inched forward slowly, the buzz of conversation from fellow travelers blending into a symphony of anticipation.

My mind buzzed with questions. The road had seemed so lonely, yet here was a crowd full of life and activity. Where had all these people come from? I craned my neck, trying to glimpse any alternative paths we might have missed, but the road we had traveled appeared to be the sole artery feeding into the heart of Aeloria.

“Puzzled by the caravan, are you?” 

“Yes. We didn’t pass any carts on our way. Where did they all come from?”

He gestured toward the right, where a narrow path snaked through the dense forest. “There, that’s the Oaken Way, leading from Harrowvale. It’s a village of woodcutters and hunters."

Turning his attention to the left, Jean pointed out a serpentine trail etched against the rolling hills that I had not seen. “And that,” he continued, “is the Serpent’s Tail. A winding road to the mines of Elderglen. It’s the route miners take to bring their treasures to Aeloria’s markets.”

My eyes followed his gestures, a sense of awe enveloping me as I realized the hidden intricacies of this world. I listened intently, absorbing every detail of Jean’s descriptions, my mind painting vivid pictures of the bustling life that thrived beyond the boundaries of Verdantvale.

As we edged closer to the city gates, Jean leaned toward me, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Be cautious now. The guards are thorough with their inspections.”

I peeked from beneath my hood, observing a city guard moving methodically along the queue. His eyes were sharp and assessing, lingering on each cart and its occupants before either nodding them through or directing them aside for a more detailed search.

“They’re looking for smuggled goods,” Jean murmured, his tone suggesting the gravity of the situation.

Our cart creaked to a halt as we reached the front of the line. Clad in polished armor that gleamed under the sun, the guard stepped forward to inspect our contents. His eyes briefly scanned the sacks of wheat and crates of eggs before they settled on me, hidden beneath my hood.

I felt a shiver run down my spine, an instinctual urge to shrink back from his piercing stare. My eyes, however, were drawn to the patch adorning his chest—a shield decorated with two intertwining roses, their thorny stems woven into an intricate dance. The sigil stirred a sense of recognition within me, its familiarity sending a ripple of unease through me.

As the guard leaned forward, clearly intending to catch a glimpse of my face, Jean intervened with a sudden exclamation.

“Oh!” Jean exclaimed, his voice laced with feigned astonishment as he gestured wildly toward the forest. “What’s that? Over there! Did you see that?”

The guard, momentarily distracted by Jean’s theatrics, shifted his focus. “See what?” he questioned, his expression morphing into one of curiosity.

Jean’s eyes widened dramatically; his finger pointed unwaveringly toward the dense treeline. “There, right there... a stag!” he proclaimed, his tone a blend of excitement and reverence. “A royal stag!”

The mention of the stag piqued the guard’s interest. He turned his gaze toward the forest, his hand instinctively moving toward his spear.

Seizing the opportunity, Jean gently urged the horse forward, nudging our cart past the guard. I let out a silent sigh of relief, feeling the tension in my body ebb away as we rolled into the bustling city. I stole one last glance at the guard, now thoroughly engrossed in scanning the forest, his initial suspicions forgotten in the wake of Jean’s clever distraction.

My breath caught in my throat as we passed through the grand archway of Aeloria’s city gates. The metropolis sprawled before me was vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the quiet village I had left behind. The streets, paved with cobblestones worn smooth by time, were teeming with people. Their chatter and laughter melded into a symphony that buzzed in my ears.

On either side of the main thoroughfare, market stalls and booths vied for attention. And the air was rich with the aroma of spices mingling with the sweet smell of flowers from a nearby florist’s display.

The elegance of Aeloria’s elite was also on full display in the outdoor cafes and boutiques lining the opulent plaza. Women floated by in silk and satin gowns, their garments catching the light while pearls and gems adorned their necks and wrists.

Equally resplendent, the men wore suits of fine brocade and velvet, their rich, deep colors accented with gold thread that glinted in the sunlight. Their perfectly polished shoes clicked against the cobblestones, each step echoing confidence and privilege.

I was utterly captivated by the array of hair colors that painted the crowd. Pastel hues seemed to be all the rage, with soft pinks cascading in curls over the shoulders of young women, and young men sported bright blue coiffures, their hair mirroring the vivid colors of their attire.

In contrast to the dazzling display by the nobles, the rest of the city folk moved through the crowd in clothing that was more subdued. Their hair, in natural shades of brown and blonde, contrasted sharply with the pastel parade of the city’s elite. I suddenly understood why Tomlin had insisted on the cloak—my black hair was an anomaly here.

“Aeloria is a lot bigger than I imagined."

“It’s the third-largest city in the kingdom. The capital, Lumicross, is the largest, followed by Salemor, which borders the kingdom of Ravanar.”

If this city was only the third largest, what unimaginable wonders did the rest of the kingdom hold? I made a mental note to find a map and familiarize myself with all the places I had heard about.

As we ventured deeper into the city, Jean shared his knowledge of Aeloria’s various districts.

“To the left is the Market District. It’s a hive of activity where traders from distant lands mingle and barter their goods. And beyond that is Artisan Alley, renowned for its shops displaying handcrafted jewelry and other intricate pieces. And to the far right, those large spires like fingers reaching for the sky. That’s the Mages’ Quarter.”

“Mages? Like in magic?” 

“Of course. Then over there...” Jean continued pointing out the city’s different areas, but I didn’t hear him as I stared at the tall towers.

They have magic here? How is that even possible?

A sense of familiarity washed over me as we pulled into our final destination. The square was a canvas of vibrant hues; each stall, with its array of fresh produce, was a masterpiece of color. It reminded me of my world’s lively Sunday markets. 

“This is Farmer’s Square, Mara. The heart of Aeloria’s food supply. Farmers from all around come here to sell their freshest goods.”

He hopped off the cart with a spring in his step, handing the reins to me. “Hold these for a moment; I need to locate our buyer. He’s usually around this area.”

The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of ripe fruits and the earthy scent of vegetables freshly plucked from the soil. People moved around with a purpose, their voices a harmonious blend of negotiations and greetings.

Amidst the chaos, my eyes fell upon the sigil I had seen on the guard’s breastplate. It was emblazoned across an expansive fruit stand. The emblem stirred something within me, a fleeting whisper of memory that danced just beyond my grasp.

As I stared, trying to coax the shadowy fragments of my memory into clarity, I felt an inexplicable chill crawl up my spine as if unseen eyes were fixated on me. Hesitantly, I turned and locked eyes with a man whose presence seemed to command the space around him. His hair was a striking pale blonde, starkly contrasting the softer pastels around him. He stood tall and regal, clad in a richly embroidered ensemble of deep purple and gold. But it was his eyes that truly captivated me. They were deep pools of swirling sapphire and amethyst that held an otherworldly charm. 

His gaze on me was intense, penetrating as if he could see past the cloak and peer into my very soul. A slow smirk curled his lips. The way he studied me made my heart pound faster. 

My pulse quickened as the man gestured commandingly toward the fruit stand adorned with the twin rose sigil. At his signal, several men in uniforms briskly made their way through the crowd, parting it with an air of authority.

Jean reappeared at my side, laden with a crate brimming with vibrant produce. Following my gaze, he spotted what was drawing my attention.

“Ah, that’s Grand Mage Rael. Try not to stare too much, Mara. Nobles, especially of his stature, aren’t fond of it.”

I quickly diverted my eyes, a flush of mild embarrassment coloring my cheeks. Despite my efforts, my curiosity lingered, my gaze stealthily drifting back to the scene unfolding at the fruit stand. The vendor, a middle-aged man with weathered features, bowed deeply to the Grand Mage’s men, his gestures swift and obedient as they loaded crates of fruit onto a regal-looking wagon.

“So the Grand Mage is a noble as well?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the market.

Jean nodded as he heaved the crate onto our cart. “He’s the second prince of Lumicrestia,” he disclosed casually, wiping his hands on his trousers.

A prince!

The revelation sent a jolt through me. The pieces clicked into place—the grandeur in his clothing, the air of supremacy that surrounded him, and the deference he commanded. It all aligned with the stature of royalty.

“That sigil with the two roses... Is that the city’s emblem?” I asked, attempting to take my mind off the Grand Mage.

“It’s the sigil of the Aster family who rule over this Duchy.”

“So, the Duke has a say in what’s sold here?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Yes, in a way. The Duke’s sigil on a merchant’s stall is a mark of authenticity and quality. It signifies that the Duke’s officials have inspected and approved their goods. It’s a symbol of trust, especially for rare or exotic items that are not commonly found.”

“But couldn’t anyone just display the sigil to attract more customers?”

Jean let out a small chuckle, but his eyes held no humor. “They could try, but that would be a dangerous game. Misusing the Duke’s sigil is considered a grave offense. Anyone caught doing so would face severe consequences.”

As Jean spoke, a hint of fear flickered across his face.

“Is the Duke a fearsome man?”

Jean glanced around to ensure no one was listening and leaned closer to me. “Duke Mikhail Aster is known for his strict sense of justice. He’s fair, but he doesn’t tolerate deceit or betrayal.” The seriousness in Jean’s tone sent a chill down my spine.

As I processed this information, Jean finished loading the cart. “Well, Mara, we’ve got a full day ahead of us, and there’s so much more to explore.”

I nodded, and before heading out, I found myself stealing another curious glance in the direction of Grand Mage Rael, only to see him looking back at me again. This time, however, he raised his hand in a casual wave before disappearing into the crowd with his entourage.