After passing by countless small towns and stretches of farmland, our journey finally ended outside one of Eryndrel’s towering gates. Despite having seen numerous cities before in my past life, the capital was on an entirely different scale—unfathomably large and thrumming with latent mana. I had read that each of Eryndrel’s districts were the size of an entire city, but after seeing it in person, those words barely did it justice. This was Eryndrel, the city of magic and the capital of Ekrethia.

The carriage slowed as we approached the outer wall, where a group of vigilant guards stood watch, their eyes constantly scanning the horizon. They wore polished steel breastplates adorned with the royal crest, and their bearings exuded discipline. As our carriage came to a halt, they performed a swift but thorough inspection of the carriage, their gazes flickering over our group with practiced efficiency. With a curt nod from their captain, we were waved through the towering gates without a word. 

Inside, the city opened before us in a sprawling network of roads, structures, and towering spires. The air was thick with the scent of burning coal and fresh parchment, and the streets bustled with merchants, adventurers, and various other travellers. The sheer scale made it impossible to take in everything at once.

The carriage rolled to a stop once more, this time at a customs checkpoint. Freya stepped out, presenting our identification documents and a letter of introduction from Julius to a waiting official. The woman, clad in the uniform of the city’s administration, took the papers with an appraising glance before handing them off to a subordinate and talking to Freya. Moments later, we were asked to disembark.

Why is this such a hassle? I sighed as my small boots touched the paved road. Around us, trade checkpoints, military barracks, and customs offices lined the streets, with dozens of parked carriages crowding the area. The sheer number of people moving about suggested a bustling daily routine for the city.

“This district is called the Frontier Enclave,” Ronan explained as he paid the carriage driver and began following Freya and a guard toward a nearby staging area. “It’s Eryndrel’s first line of defence and keeps the city secure.”

Haela clung to Ronan’s hand, nodding absently, while Chione seemed wholly uninterested, her cold gaze sweeping over the nearby officials instead. We gathered in a small, sheltered waiting area furnished with benches and a table stocked with refreshments that seemed specifically prepared for people of high status. There was a strange lack of tension despite us having to leave the carriage. Since Ronan had paid the driver, it became obvious this was planned ahead of time.

Fifteen minutes later, the guard completed the final checks. When he returned, he wasn’t alone.

The man beside him looked seasoned, dignified, and appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties. Lean yet muscular, his face bore a few battle scars, and his eyes were calm but sharp. He wore a functional, yet ornate leather jerkin embossed with a noble crest, paired with a silver-and-yellow cloak. The crest displayed a silver sword wreathed in yellow lightning on a shield. A finely crafted sword hung at his side, and his demeanor was both respectful and alert.

Both the man—who I assumed was some noble’s retainer—and the guard bowed to Freya.

“Lady Tarmal,” the retainer said, his voice measured and respectful. “I trust your journey was a smooth one?”

“Lando,” Freya acknowledged with a nod, her expression unreadable. “No major issues.”

 “We’ve prepared a carriage for you and your family. Please follow me when you’re ready to depart.”

He addressed her as ‘Lady’? I realised, my gaze drifting to the crest on his cloak once more. It bore a resemblance to symbolism commonly associated with the church of Thorvek. Is Ellis a noble family? Nobody’s mentioned it before.

Ronan seemed entirely unperturbed by the exchange, rising from the bench without hesitation. He and Freya gestured for us to follow, and we complied, trailing behind the retainer named Lando towards a grand silver and yellow carriage that put our previous one to shame. It was an elegant blend of martial functionality and noble craftsmanship, its polished oak exterior reinforced with intricate ironwork. Silver and gold accents traced its edges, and a subtle arch crowned the roof, its golden trim catching the light. The same crest emblazoned on Lando’s clothing was prominently displayed on the carriage’s side.

Minutes later, we were moving again, the carriage gliding smoothly over the paved city roads. Two similar carriages flanked us—one ahead, carrying Lando and a few other retainers, and another trailing behind, holding more retainers or guards. The entourage made me wonder just how high Julius stood in Ekrethia’s aristocracy.

As we passed through the Frontier Enclave and into the Fringe District, the scenery shifted. The militarised perimeter gave way to a dense sprawl of working-class neighbourhoods and industrial workshops. The Fringe District was vast, but we took the shortest route through, heading toward the imposing inner wall that separated Eryndrel’s central districts. 

The carriage rocked gently with the motion, and as the minutes stretched on, neither Haela nor Chione spoke of the earlier revelation, instead peppering Ronan with questions about the city. Whether they hadn’t realised its significance, didn’t understand, or simply didn’t care, I couldn’t tell. Eventually, I decided to broach the topic myself.

“Who was that man from before?” I asked, directing my gaze towards Freya, who sat opposite me. Her expression had remained unreadable since we entered the city.

“He’s your grandfather's lead retainer,” she said after a pause. “He’s served our family since I was young. His name is Lando Burton.”

Ronan leaned back, arms crossed. “More accurately, he serves the Ellis family.”

I tilted my head slightly, feigning ignorance. “Why?”

Freya’s tone remained even. “Your grandfather is an important man. He needs people like Lando to assist him.”

That wasn’t much of an answer, but pressing further felt pointless. I let the matter rest and waited in silence.

Before long, we reached the inner wall encircling Eryndrel’s central districts. A contingent of officials and guards awaited us, saluting as the carriages came to a halt. This time, Freya didn’t bother stepping out, leaving the formalities to Lando, who carried our documents and Julius’ letter of recommendation. He handled it smoothly, as though he had done so countless times before.

Ronan fidgeted, lightly biting his lip as he stole glances out the window as though nervous about entering the central districts. His wife, seated beside him, maintained her dignified composure, though a faint frown tugged at her lips. She remained poised, her gaze fixed outside, revealing nothing of her thoughts.

Lando returned to the front carriage within just five minutes, and we passed beyond the inner wall. From what I had read about the capital, the area within the inner wall was divided into three distinct regions: the Royal Ward, the Arcane Quarter, and the Sanctified District. The luxurious buildings surrounding us left no doubt—we had entered the Royal Ward. A grand palace stood at its center, surrounded by administrative buildings and sprawling noble estates. The entire district was a statement of prestige, blending architectural opulence with magical reinforcement.

We followed a wide boulevard until we arrived at a stately manor built of aged, hewn stone. Lush greenery framed its entrance, and a stone pathway that split the front courtyard led from the gatehouse to the manor’s front doors. Instead of stepping out immediately, we waited for Lando to open the carriage door.

“The Count is waiting for you in the solar,” Lando said, bowing as he pulled the door aside.

Beyond him, the other retainers stood in neat rows on either side of the garden gate, mirroring his bow. Haela froze as she stepped out, staring up at the manor with her mouth agape. Chione, standing next to her, shifted uneasily.

“Come on, we can’t keep Grandpa waiting,” Ronan said, his earlier nervousness seemingly gone. He scooped the two girls up onto his shoulders and carried them forward. Haela let out a delighted giggle, her previous awe gone, as Freya trailed beside him at a measured pace, her gaze fixed ahead.

I dismounted last, adjusting my sleeve to better conceal the talisman on my wrist. My eyes flickered to Lando, then to the rows of retainers. I didn’t doubt there were mages among them, but I feigned confidence and walked forward all the same.