The Garden Of?
Chapter Fifteen:
The Capital's Weight:
Part One
After about an hour of wandering through the capital's sprawling veins of streets, I finally found myself staring at a broad stone archway that marked the entrance to the noble district. The difference was obvious the moment I saw it. Beyond the arch stretched a boulevard paved smoother than any road I'd walked so far, lined with ornate lamps of wrought iron, each etched with golden designs. The air even smelled different—cleaner, sharper, touched with the faint perfume of blooming lilies spilling out from private gardens behind tall, gilded gates.
I felt my chest tighten. This was the world of nobility, the kind of people whose names carried weight, whose families decided the fates of villages like mine without ever seeing them. I took a step forward—only to be blocked.
A man, probably in his thirties, stepped out from the side. He wore the same armor as the other guards stationed at the arch, but there was something different in his face. Not stern professionalism like the others. No. His lips curled in amusement, like he'd been waiting for someone to deny. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, but his posture was lazy, almost mocking.
"Hold there," he said, his voice thick with disdain. "This is the noble district. Not a playground for peasants."
The words hit sharper than I expected. For a second I thought maybe I'd misheard him. But no—the smug look in his eyes told me I hadn't.
The other guards glanced over. Their expressions weren't hostile. If anything, they seemed indifferent. Their stares didn't say you don't belong; they said this is routine. They might've let me through, if not for this man.
I tried to steady my voice. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just wanted to—"
He cut me off with a chuckle, leaning forward so close I could smell his breath—like sour wine. "Wanted to what? Gawk at the carriages? Maybe beg for scraps from the lords? You've got that wide-eyed look about you. First time in the capital?"
Heat burned my face, but I stayed still. The other guards shifted uneasily, but no one spoke.
And then he kept going. His voice turned sharp, cruel. "Go back to your gutters, boy. This district isn't for you. Or your kind. People like you crawl out of villages, clutching rusty swords, thinking you'll be heroes. You'll end up a corpse in the alleys before the month's done. And your family will still be dirt-eating nobodies."
That last word cracked something inside me. Family. My parents' faces flashed in my mind, mom's steady smile, Rufius's tears when I left, dad's voice telling me to get strong. My stomach twisted.
I knew I should've walked away. Every rational thought in my head screamed it would cause trouble—reputation damage at the Academy, whispers that I was some reckless village brat who couldn't control himself. But the way he sneered when he spoke about my family…
I didn't think. My fist moved before my mind caught up.
The punch landed square on his nose with a sharp crack. His head snapped back, and for one glorious second his expression was nothing but shock. Blood trickled down over his lip.
The square went quiet around me. The other guards stiffened, hands hovering near their weapons, but no one drew. The man stumbled back, swearing under his breath.
I stared at him, chest heaving. My hand throbbed, but I didn't regret it. Not for a heartbeat.
"You don't talk about my family," I said quietly, my voice rough.
He glared at me, eyes blazing with humiliation, but before he could lunge, one of the older guards stepped forward. His voice was sharp as steel. "That's enough, Darven. Stand down."
Darven froze, nostrils flaring. Blood dripped onto his armor. For a moment I thought he'd ignore the order. But then, with a snarl, he turned away, muttering curses under his breath.
The older guard glanced at me. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between pity and warning. "Go. Now. Before this becomes more than a scuffle."
I nodded stiffly, forcing my legs to move. The noble district could wait. Right now, staying out of trouble mattered more.
But even as I walked away, a bitter taste filled my mouth. His words clung to me like burrs, but so did the satisfaction of that punch.
By the time I put enough distance between myself and the noble district, my pulse had finally slowed. I flexed my hand as I walked, the knuckles raw and stinging from where they'd met bone. A dull ache lingered, but the fire inside me hadn't burned out. Darven's words still echoed in my skull, dragging shadows over every memory of home.
I breathed deep, forcing the air into my lungs. The capital wasn't going to get easier if I let one arrogant soldier haunt me.
So I walked.
And I walked.
And still, the streets didn't end.
Eirenora wasn't just big—it was endless. Every corner I turned spilled me into another road, each one busier than the last. Vendors shouted from every stall, hawking everything from gleaming jewelry to roasted skewers that sent waves of smoky, spiced air drifting down the avenues. My stomach growled more than once, but I ignored it. My eyes were too busy drinking in the city.
Tall stone buildings rose on either side, some etched with patterns that twisted like vines, others with stained-glass windows that flashed in the sun. Banners fluttered in the wind—house crests, guild symbols, even flags with the blue sun of the kingdom stitched in perfect threads. Carriages rattled past, wheels clattering against stone, pulled by glossy horses with braided manes. Some were open, carrying merchants or minor officials, but others were closed and guarded, their windows curtained shut. Nobility. Always nobility.
And everywhere I looked, people. So many people. Peasants carrying baskets of laundry, smiths with soot staining their sleeves, scribes rushing with stacks of parchment under their arms. Their chatter and footsteps blended into a constant hum that wrapped around me, thick and suffocating.
I slowed at one corner where the road widened into a square. At the center stood a statue of a knight, his sword raised high, his cloak rippling in stone. Children clambered at the base, chasing each other between the carved boots, while their mothers yelled for them to stop. The sight almost tugged a laugh from me. Almost.
I pressed on, weaving through the throng.
The deeper I went, the more the city's wealth showed. I passed a grand building with wide marble steps and pillars carved into the shapes of lions. A gilded sign above the door read Royal Restaurant. (there are many restraunt for royals I see) The smell drifting from within made my stomach twist harder—rich sauces, baked meats, and something sweet, maybe honeyed tarts. People in silk robes and velvet capes strode past me into the restaurant, barely sparing me a glance. Their laughter rang sharp, too loud, like they wanted everyone nearby to hear how important they were.
Farther down, I spotted hotels—tall, elegant structures with wide arching windows that gleamed like polished gems. Porters in tidy uniforms bowed as finely dressed travelers stepped inside, their luggage carried as though it weighed nothing. I paused, staring a little too long, wondering if I'd ever sleep under roofs like those.
Shops spilled into the roads, each one demanding attention. Blacksmiths' forges clanged with sparks, jewelers' cases glittered with necklaces and rings, booksellers shouted about rare tomes. My hand itched to reach into my coin pouch, but Keif's warning echoed in my mind: Don't waste it all on snacks. I smiled faintly at the memory and forced myself to keep walking.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard chanting.
It rolled like a tide through the street, voices rising together, sharp and disciplined. I turned instinctively toward the sound.
A crowd had gathered, lining the road. People pressed against each other, whispering and pointing. Guards shoved them back with spears, clearing space down the center. At first, I thought it was some kind of parade. But then I saw the carriages.
Five of them, all deep crimson trimmed with gold. The horses that pulled them were massive, their coats white as snow, their armor polished so bright it hurt to look at. The lead carriage bore a crest I didn't recognize—some noble house's emblem, curling vines around a blazing phoenix.
The chanting grew louder. "Honor to the Duke! Honor to the family!"
My brows furrowed. I didn't care who they were, or why the crowd was shouting. I just needed directions to the Academy. So I stepped toward a woman standing at the edge and asked, "Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to—"
Her eyes widened in horror. She gasped and shoved me back. "Bow down, you fool! It's the Duke's family carriage! The eldest daughter rides today!"
And before I could react, the entire crowd dropped like wheat in the wind. Dozens of people bent their heads, some kneeling outright, all eyes lowered.
Except mine.
I stood frozen, a dumb look plastered on my face as my white hair fell into my eyes. I flicked it up impatiently, blinking at the rows of bowed backs. The carriages rolled closer, the clatter of hooves loud against the cobbles.
Then a soldier broke from the formation and stormed up to me. His armor clanged with every step, his face twisted with fury. He grabbed my collar and yanked me forward so close I could smell the oil on his breastplate.
"Don't you know how to respect the great Duke's oldest daughter?" he roared.
My blood surged hot. I flicked his hand off my collar with a sharp movement, glaring coldly into his eyes. For a heartbeat, silence crashed over the square. Dozens of eyes burned into me, wide with shock.
And then, from inside the carriage, a voice. Clear, calm, and feminine.
"Don't create a scene, soldier. Let us go."
The man stiffened. His jaw worked, but he clicked his tongue in frustration and stepped back, muttering curses. He turned away sharply, marching back to formation.
The carriages rolled forward again, the horses snorting clouds of steam. The crowd didn't lift their heads until the last wheel disappeared around the corner.
Only then did I feel the weight of all the stares. Dozens of eyes locked onto me, whispering, judging, maybe even fearing. My throat tightened, but I forced my face to stay blank, my expression cool.