Kiaren's journey through the city was both a quiet spectacle and a study in contrasts. The streets near the gates were modest, lined with small homes and shops built from weathered stone and timber. The architecture spoke of necessity rather than grandeur, with slanted roofs of mismatched tiles and walls patched in places with whatever material was at hand. Lanterns hung from iron hooks above the doors, their flames flickering weakly, casting uneven light on the narrow cobblestone roads.
The people here moved quickly, their steps hurried as they bustled about with sacks of grain, crates of goods, or tools slung over their shoulders. Conversations were muted, voices tinged with fatigue from a long day's labor. Many paused when they noticed Kiaren, their eyes widening at the sight of his horns glinting faintly beneath his hood and his commanding stride.
"Dragonkin?" a man muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with suspicion.
"What's one of them doing here?" an older woman whispered to her companion, clutching a basket of bread tightly to her chest.
A child tugged at his mother's sleeve, pointing openly at Kiaren. "Look, Ma! Is that a dragon?" The mother quickly hushed him, pulling him away with a wary glance.
Not all the reactions were hostile. A young merchant paused mid-call, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "Dragonkin… Here?" he mused quietly, his voice filled more with wonder than fear. "What could bring one of them to Jordan?"
Kiaren ignored the stares and whispers, his expression impassive as he walked past. The faint glow of his eyes beneath the hood caught the light of the lanterns, adding an otherworldly quality to his presence that only deepened the unease of those who watched him.
As he continued, the streets began to widen, the sharp edges of the working district giving way to the softer, more deliberate lines of wealth. The cobblestones beneath his boots grew smoother, their surfaces polished and well-maintained. The buildings here were taller, their facades adorned with ornate carvings of mythical creatures and floral motifs. Balconies of wrought iron jutted out above the streets, their railings decorated with blooming flowers or shimmering charms of protection.
The air shifted as well, carrying a faint scent of perfume and freshly baked sweets rather than the earthy grit of the lower districts. Wealthier citizens moved with leisurely grace, their steps measured, their clothes clean and finely tailored. Many wore jewelry that glinted in the light of the magical lampposts lining the streets, their steady white flames casting a warm, even glow.
Kiaren's presence drew attention here, too, but the reactions were more restrained, laced with curiosity rather than open hostility. A nobleman in a rich purple coat paused as Kiaren passed, his eyes narrowing with sharp interest. "A Dragonoid," he murmured to his companion. "I wonder what business one such as him has here?"
A woman in a flowing blue gown whispered something to her maid, who nodded nervously while casting a wary glance at Kiaren.
Two men in matching silver cloaks exchanged a glance as they stepped aside to let him pass, their expressions guarded.
"Do you think he's here on some official errand?" one of them asked in a low voice.
"Perhaps," the other replied, his tone cautious. "Or perhaps he's a mercenary. Either way, best not to get involved."
The path to the upper district grew steeper, winding its way like a coiled serpent toward the heart of the city. The houses and shops thinned out, replaced by sprawling manors surrounded by high walls and iron gates. These estates were impressive, their stone facades gleaming in the moonlight, their windows framed by intricate stained glass that shimmered faintly with enchanted light.
The road itself was immaculate, lined with finely cut stones that fit together seamlessly. Magical lampposts stood at even intervals, their steady glow illuminating the path with a soft, white light.
The silence here was profound, broken only by the faint hum of enchantments woven into the buildings and the occasional rustle of leaves from the carefully manicured trees that lined the streets. A sense of exclusivity hung in the air, an invisible barrier that seemed to repel the unworthy.
As Kiaren approached the gilded gates of the Duke's residence, his steps slowed slightly. The gates were a masterpiece of craftsmanship, their golden surface adorned with intricate designs of twisting vines and coiled dragons. The walls that flanked them were equally impressive, towering and smooth, their edges glowing faintly with an enchantment that Kiaren could feel pressing against his senses.
As his gaze lingered on the gates, Kiaren's vision began to waver. The edges of the gate rippled, blurring and distorting as though viewed through a sheet of water. A strange pressure pressed against his chest, subtle at first but growing heavier with each step closer. It was as though the enchantment woven into the gates was rejecting his very presence, pushing against his aura with an invisible force.
Kiaren blinked, steadying himself as he adjusted his stance. His sharp eyes caught faint glyphs etched into the golden surface, their lines glowing faintly as the enchantment responded to him. The hum of magic was almost audible now, a low, resonant thrum that seemed to vibrate in his bones.