The Garden of?
Chapter fourteen:
Awe:
The gates of Eirenora groaned open as the line moved forward. My chest tightened the closer we got, and my eyes kept darting up at the white stone walls. They were so tall I thought they'd cut into the clouds, sunlight sliding down their smooth faces like waves breaking on a cliff. The towers rose even higher, sharp and square, and on each one I spotted soldiers, their armor gleaming. Some leaned on their spears lazily, but others stared down with hawk eyes that made my skin prickle.
I shifted in my seat, tugging at the strap that kept my sword close to my hip. The cart creaked as Keif urged the horses forward, his voice humming some tune under his breath, completely calm.
"Relax," he said, glancing sideways at me. "You look like you're about to throw up."
I swallowed. "I'm not nervous."
He laughed, sharp and quick. "Your knuckles say otherwise."
I unclenched my fist. I hadn't even noticed I was gripping the edge of the cart that hard. The line shuffled forward, merchant wagons, riders, even peasants on foot with sacks slung over their backs. The soldiers checked each one carefully, flipping open crates, prodding bags, asking questions.
When our turn came, two guards stepped up. One's helmet shaded his eyes, but I could feel him staring at me.
"State your business," he said.
I cleared my throat. "I—I came here for the Academy. From Tern Village."
He studied me for a moment longer, then looked at Keif.
"And you?"
"Merchant," Keif said smoothly, raising his papers. "Keif Grunler. Carrying spices and fabrics. My cargo's clean."
The guards checked the parchment, nodded, then gave the wagon a once-over. When they peered at me again, my heart kicked against my ribs, but then they stepped back.
"You may pass."
The words hit me like cool water. Keif flicked the reins, and the wagon rolled forward, past the towering gates and into the belly of the capital.
—
If the walls had been overwhelming, the streets inside were like another world entirely.
I sucked in a breath, my eyes darting everywhere. Stone roads stretched wide, busy with carts and horses, packed with people moving like waves of color. Shops with banners of red and gold spilled goods out onto the streets. Bakers shouted about their bread, the smell of butter and flour thick in the air. Children darted between legs, chasing each other with shrill laughter. A group of armored knights trotted past on horses, their armor clattering like drums, the crowd parting quickly around them.
It was so much. Too much. My head spun trying to take it all in, my heart thudding against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
"Big difference from Tern, eh?" Keif said with a grin.
"Y-yeah," I muttered. My voice barely came out. "It's… massive."
I couldn't stop staring. The buildings here weren't just stone huts like back home. They had carved faces, high windows with painted glass, banners fluttering on balconies. One tower in the distance glittered with green crystal, catching the sun and breaking it into sparks of light that scattered across rooftops.
For a moment, I just let myself sink into it—the pulse of the city, alive and endless. And then, just as suddenly, a lump rose in my throat. I was a stranger here. One face in an ocean.
Keif must've seen my expression, because he leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms. "Overwhelming, huh? The first time I came here, I thought I'd drown. Felt like everyone knew where they were going except me."
"Feels like that right now," I admitted. My voice cracked, and I clenched my jaw.
He chuckled softly. "You'll get used to it. You've got a purpose, kid. That's more than most people have."
—
We rolled deeper into the city until finally, at a wide square where the crowd thinned, Keif slowed the horses. He pulled the cart up beside a fountain shaped like a rearing lion, water spilling down into a sparkling pool.
"Well," he said, tugging the reins to stop the wagon. "This is where we part ways."
I blinked, my chest tightening. "So soon?"
He gave a crooked smile. "I've got to deliver these goods. Merchants don't sit around and sightsee, you know. Deadlines, customers, coin. All that boring stuff."
I climbed down from the cart, my boots clacking against the stone. For a moment I just stood there, awkward, clutching the strap of my sword.
"I… thanks," I muttered. The words felt small compared to everything he'd done—letting me ride, feeding me, even saving me from a night in the rain. "I don't know what I'd have done without you."
"Probably gotten eaten by wolves," he said casually. Then, softer: "Don't mention it. You saved me first, remember? This just evens us out."
I looked at him. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, but there was something steady behind it, like steel. He reached out a hand, and after a second I grabbed it. His grip was firm and warm.
"Listen, Leif," Keif said. "This city can swallow you whole if you let it. Keep your head clear. Don't trust everyone. And whatever happens in that Academy—don't lose yourself."
My throat felt tight again. I nodded. "I won't."
He let go and hopped off the cart, rummaging in one of the crates. A moment later, he pressed a small cloth bag into my hand. It was heavier than I expected.
"What's this?"
"Just a little coin," he said with a wink. "Consider it… investment in your future. Don't waste it all on snacks."
My face heated. "I—I can't take this."
"You can, and you will," he said firmly. "Besides, if you make it big at that Academy, you can pay me back someday. With interest."
I laughed, shaky and too loud. "You're weird."
"And you're stubborn," he shot back, climbing back onto the cart. "We'll call it even."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then he clicked his tongue, the horses started forward, and the cart rolled away into the press of the street.
I stood there, clutching the little bag of coins, watching the wagon until it disappeared into the crowd. The fountain roared behind me, and the noise of the city rushed in all around, louder than ever.
And suddenly, I was alone.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My hand shook a little as I tucked the coin bag away. The space where Keif's cart had been felt empty, like something had been carved out of the air.
For the first time since leaving Tern, there was no one beside me. No one to guide me, no one to laugh when I panicked, no one to steady me when the road felt too long. Just me.
I turned slowly, taking in the streets again. The crowd, the banners, the towers. The smell of baked bread mixed with horse dung. The glitter of the green crystal tower in the distance.
This was Eirenora. The capital. The place where everything began.
I clenched my fist around the strap of my sword, my pulse drumming steady now instead of frantic.
"I'll make it," I whispered. The words almost vanished under the roar of the city, but I didn't care. "No matter what, I'll make it."
My stomach twisted with fear and excitement all tangled together, but I forced my legs to move, one step into the chaos, then another.
The Academy waited.
And so did my future.
The roar of the fountain was the only thing steady enough to ground me. Water spilled over the lion's mane in silver arcs, glittering in the sunlight, falling into a basin so clear I could see copper coins glinting at the bottom. Wishes, prayers, desperation—all tossed into a pool guarded by stone.
I wondered if one coin down there belonged to someone who had stood where I did now: young, alone, convinced the city would swallow them whole. Did it work for them? Did they climb? Or had the capital chewed them up and spit them back out like broken stone?
My fingers twitched toward Keif's coin bag, still heavy at my hip. But I shook my head. I couldn't waste a single copper, not when I didn't know what I'd need tomorrow. Wishes wouldn't buy food or a roof over my head.
Instead, I shouldered my satchel and walked.
The street stretched ahead like an artery, veins of voices and wheels and hooves carrying the city's lifeblood. The air here was thick—not just with smoke from the braziers or the sweetness of roasting nuts, but with intent. Everyone was going somewhere, rushing toward something. I had to stop myself from standing still, or else I'd be swept backward.
I pressed forward, cautious, scanning everything like Keif had told me. The buildings on either side were grander than anything back in Tern. One inn rose three stories, its facade painted with murals of winged lions leaping into clouds. Balconies crowded with nobles leaned out to watch the flow of people below. A jeweler's shop shimmered with light as if the very glass panes had been enchanted to sparkle.
But what struck me most were the faces. Every second, someone brushed past me—eyes sharp, lips curled in laughter, or brows furrowed in frustration. So many different lives tangled here in one place. Farmers with mud still clinging to their boots. Adventurers with swords slung across their backs, laughing too loud. Nobles in embroidered coats riding past in carriages, their curtains half-drawn, pretending not to see us. Even children in rags, darting between the wheels of carts, hands quick as snakes.
I gripped the strap of my sword tighter. Keif's warning rang in my head: Don't trust everyone. The city can swallow you whole.
I turned a corner, and that's when I saw it.
It wasn't just a building—it was an entire performance. White pillars climbed to a balcony draped in crimson silk. A grand staircase poured down into the street, where attendants in spotless uniforms guided nobles up with bowed heads. The smell hit me even from here—rich, buttery, spiced with herbs I couldn't name. My stomach growled so loud I thought the nearest passerby heard it.
I clenched my teeth and forced myself to look away. That wasn't for me. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I kept walking.
The next district was noisier, rougher. Guild banners hung over heavy oak doors: crossed swords for the Adventurers, a golden scale for the Merchants, a hammer and flame for the Artisans. Each hall was alive with its own chaos. I heard the clash of practice blades, the clang of iron striking iron, the snap of parchment as deals were signed. This was the beating heart of the city's power, not the noble halls or marble palaces. Here was where fortunes were made—or lost.
I slowed at the Adventurers' Guild. A group lounged near the entrance, armor dented and cloaks stained, but their weapons gleamed. One of them, a woman with hair the color of embers, leaned on a spear taller than I was. She threw her head back in laughter at something another said, the sound bold and unafraid. I realized I was staring and quickly turned away.
Someday, maybe, I'd stand there too. But not yet. First, the Academy.
The crowd surged again, and I let myself be carried along, my boots clacking against the stone, the noise of hooves and chatter ringing in my ears. For an hour, maybe more, I wandered like this, memorizing every landmark I could: the green crystal tower that glowed even brighter as the sun climbed higher; the wide bridge arched over a canal that reflected the sky like a mirror; the tangle of narrow alleys where lanterns swayed in the wind, shadows already pooling even in daylight.
By the time my feet ached and sweat prickled under my collar, I realized something.
I was no longer shrinking back. My steps were slower, steadier. My eyes didn't dart in panic, they lingered. I wasn't drowning—I was adjusting. The chaos of the capital was still terrifying, but somewhere in it, I'd found a rhythm. My rhythm.
At the edge of another square, I paused to catch my breath. A troupe of performers danced on the cobblestones, painted masks glinting, drums beating, children clapping in delight. I leaned against a post, just watching. For a moment, the knot in my chest loosened.
Maybe Keif was right. Maybe I could make it here.
I adjusted the strap of my sword, lifted my chin, and stepped forward again.
Toward whatever waited for me.
The sun dipped lower, staining the rooftops in amber, when the crowd thinned enough for me to breathe. The wide roads narrowed into veins of cobblestone, twisting between tall buildings whose shadows fell long across the streets.
I was moving toward the Academy's quarter when something caught my ear—a sharp hiss, like the scrape of a knife unsheathing.
I turned.
An alley. Narrow. Dim.
Inside, a boy no older than me was cornered against a wall, three older men advancing on him. One twirled a dagger casually, as if toying with it.
I should have walked away. I didn't know the city. I didn't owe anyone anything.
But my hand was already on my sword.
"Hey."
My voice cracked, but it was enough. The men turned. Their eyes gleamed with the kind of hunger that wasn't for food.
The dagger-man sneered. "Fresh face. Looks like we've got ourselves another lamb."
Before I could think, my blade was half-drawn. The alley reeked of stale ale and damp stone, but my grip was steady.
The first one lunged. Training with Keif surged back—parry, step, strike. Steel rang against steel. The shock of it rattled my arm, but I pushed forward, adrenaline burning through hesitation.
They weren't skilled. Just predators used to easy prey.
Two minutes later, they were scrambling away, cursing, their pride more wounded than their bodies.
There I felt a strange pair of eyes watching me, but I ignored it. I knew I was hiding my true power(acting like an beginner swordsman.), and acting weak but that eyes wasn't fooled, I could feel the stare, but I continued to go by my weak act and soon it disappeared.
The boy slid down the wall, breathing hard. "Th-thank you."
I sheathed my sword, chest heaving. "Be careful next time. The city isn't kind."
His nod was quick, his gratitude real. He vanished into the crowd before I could ask his name.
As I stepped back into the street, I realized something. My heart was pounding, yes, but not from fear. From exhilaration.
The city was dangerous. But maybe I wasn't as helpless as I thought.
((All my forehand work is over.))