Keane followed Elara down the hall, neither speaking as they left the Merchants' Inn and out to the street. He half-expected her to make small talk or lay out more of her plans, but she didn't. If she was bothered by what happened earlier in the morning, she didn't show it.
Outside, the sunlight was harsh and clear, bouncing off the cobblestones and whitewashed walls. A wagon was waiting at the curb, the driver a thick-set man with a sour look and arms like tree limbs. He barely nodded as Elara approached.
"To the Tower," she said, and the man grunted, holding the door as Elara climbed in first.
Keane stepped up, head already full of predictions about what awaited them, and was startled to see Sylvi already inside. She wore a plain tunic, her raven hair neatly braided, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere out the window, completely ignoring the world around her. She didn't so much as glance at Keane as he slid into the seat beside her.
Elara took the spot across from Keane, arranging her skirts with practiced ease.
The wagon rocked into motion, wheels clattering over the uneven street.
For a minute or so, nobody spoke. The driver took a winding path through the merchant district, passing rows of stalls where vendors hawked different things. People moved about, but parted automatically for the wagon, some even bowing as it passed.
Keane watched the city slip by, piecing together a map in his head. "This all seems… prosperous," he said. "Is it always like this?" He asked.
Elara smiled, faint and almost automatic. "Prosperity is a mask, sometimes. The city is divided into districts. Out here, you see the merchant's mask, brisk business, order, a little showmanship. Keep looking, you'll see the cracks soon enough."
Just as she said so, Keane saw what she meant.
Beyond the market square, the buildings grew taller, stone replacing timber, but here and there, there were scars. From alleys crowded with lean men and women, their eyes flat and hungry; courtyards where guards shook down street urchins for pocket change; a bakery with its front window shattered, the owner sweeping glass into the gutter as a pair of city soldiers stood watch.
'Nothing new.' Keane thought to himself, thinking back on earth and all its modernity.
"You run this city," Keane said, half a question.
Elara laughed, the sound dry. "If only. The Lord Viscount runs it. The King holds his leash. The rest of us make do." She gestured out the window as they passed a set of buildings with banners of blue and gold. "That's the Guild House. Merchants, bankers, and trade princes. They keep the city running, but not out of kindness."
He almost asked Elara about the man in the cloak, but with Sylvi there, it seemed like the wrong time. He let it drop, watching the city peel away into more refined streets.
The wagon rolled up to a choke point where a set of city guards in bright livery inspected all traffic. The men didn't so much as glance at Elara's wagon, only waved it through. Keane couldn't tell if it was because of Elara or the wagon itself, after all, back in the market areas, some people even bowed slightly as it rolled by.
Keane looked up, and for the first time noticed an inner wall standing a smooth, daunting barrier of pale stone, nearly as high as the outer ring they'd passed the night before, only noticing that they had just gone past a gate.
"What's with the walls?" he said.
Elara shrugged. "A holdover from the old wars. Or maybe the new ones. They say the walls keep out the enemy, but they're just as good at keeping the city in line. Inside this ring, it's all nobles, scholars, and the truly wealthy. Beyond it, we have the rest." She explained.
Keane watched as the city changed again, the buildings now uniform and more structured, every window glassed. Servants in crisp uniforms ran errands, and the only children visible were shepherded by nannies in matching livery.
"Do you live in here?" Keane asked.
Elara's smile was tinged with something else now. "I have rooms… But I prefer the city outside. It's more… honest."
He didn't miss what she implied. If only the powerful and wealthy lived inside those walls, then she was one of them.
The wagon slowed and turned up a broad avenue lined with red-leafed trees Keane did not recognized. At the end of the street, looming like a challenge to the sky itself, was the Mage Tower which Elara quickly pointed out to him.
Keane stared, caught off guard by the sheer scale of it. It wasn't just tall, it was mind bugling. No building on Earth, not even the skyscrapers of New York or the glass spires of Dubai, looked like this, if his memory served right. The base was a perfect cylinder of black stone, but above the third story, the walls began to twist, curling and spiraling in ways that made no sense, almost as if the building was spinning slowly around an axis that wasn't quite real.
Bands of glowing symbols crawled up the sides, shifting and reforming. The top was a nest of pointed turrets, each one capped with glass or crystal that refracted light in strange ways. All of it didn't look real at all.
Keane let out a low whistle. "I've seen a lot of things in games, but nothing like that…" He said under his breath. 'This is what I call fantasy.'
The wagon rattled to a stop at the Tower's front entrance, a set of steps carved from a black stone material, perhaps obsidian, flanked by statues that looked like they were carved from frozen white molten lava. The driver opened the door, and Elara came down, smoothing her robe.
"Ready?" she asked, looking at Keane as he made his way down also.
He nodded, still staring up. "Yeah… But I'm not sure what for." To tell the truth, he wasn't expecting every that was happening now. He thought they would be meeting some mage wizard in a dark damp shop who would access him using some crystal, this was grandiose.
Sylvi remained in the wagon, silent and unmoving, making no move to join them.
Keane and Elara mounted the steps together, walking towards the inner gates of the tower, that swung open at their approach.
They made their way into the tower through the huge front doors that opened automatically just like the gate.
Inside, the Tower was nothing like what Keane expected. The entry hall was a perfect cylinder, all angles and shadows, with light coming from floating crystals embedded in the ceiling.
The air buzzed with a constant, low hum which he concluded was magic. It felt alive and present, not the theoretical stuff from games or novels, but something that crawled over your skin and whispered to your nerves.
'I see the allure of becoming a mage.' He thought to himself with a faint smirk.
Just then, he noticed a man in a deep blue robe who stood waiting at the far end of the room. He bowed to Elara, then turned to Keane, his gaze flicking up and down, as if scanning him for weapons or weaknesses.
"Welcome to the Eastern Tower," the man said, voice smooth but clipped. "You must be the guest Lady Vane spoke of." He inclined his head to Elara, who acknowledged with a nod.
"That's right," Keane said, sticking out a hand. "Keane. Nice to meet you."
The mage eyed the hand for a second, as if expecting it to bite, then shook it quickly. His grip was cold, fingers long and precise. "Please, follow me."
'Are all of them socially awkward?' Keane thought to himself with a dry laugh within.