The four of them stepped beneath the white marble archway, its smooth stone catching the morning light like the polished edge of a blade. The structure towered above them, impossibly tall, clean, and unscarred by the decay that marked the outskirts. For a long while, they simply walked in silence, their boots clicking softly against the pristine tiles.
Then the street opened up before them, and the world changed.
The air hummed with life. Market calls rose and fell like waves, merchants shouting about fresh bread, spiced meats, soaps, leathers, and curios from distant provinces.
The scent of frying oil and flowers mixed with iron and horse sweat. Wagons rolled past, some drawn by horses, others pushed by men. Banners fluttered between stone buildings, all clean and whole, their colors bright against the blue sky.
"This place…" Ryn breathed. "It's alive."
Ward whistled low. "Hells, I didn't imagine to see a city like this."
Ferric chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think I've seen one like this in many years. I spent the last while of my life away from everything."
Argent smiled faintly, watching a group of people sitting around a fountain talking.
"It's… strange," he murmured. "Feels like the rest of the world's falling apart, but here, they act like nothing's going on."
At the far end of the main street, a massive five-story manor gleamed in the distance, its facade trimmed in gold, sunlight flashing off a symbol on the front perfectly balanced scales set above a rising sun. Crimson and gold banners draped from the upper floors, each stitched with that same emblem.
"Guess that's the fancy end of town," Ward muttered.
To their left, beyond the rooftops, loomed a tower black as pitch, so tall it vanished into the clouds. Around it, silver-trimmed banners hung heavy, marked with a circle cleaved by a single line.
"That must be where the Chroniclers keep their scrolls," Ryn said softly. "The Veil of Ages."
"Place looks cursed if you ask me," Ferric grumbled.
Ward's attention was drawn elsewhere. His eyes lit up. "Hold up. Is that...?" He pointed toward a street cart with heat curling from its fryer. "Corn dogs!"
Ryn blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."
Ferric frowned. "Corn… what?"
Argent laughed. "Oh, we're fixing that right now. Come on."
The four approached the stall, the air thick with the smell of fried batter and oil. The vendor, a round man with a greased apron, looked up and grinned.
"Four, eh? That'll be twenty merits, five each."
Argent nodded. "Alright. First time buying something here, though. How do we pay?"
The man gestured to a faintly glowing blue stone inset into his counter. "Just put your hand there, think the amount, and I'll do the same."
Argent pressed his palm down.
[Ledger Approved Transfer]
[Confirm Transfer of 20 merits?]
He thought, yes.
[Transfer Complete]
The vendor smiled. "All set. Enjoy, newcomers."
Ward bit into his first, groaning in delight. "Gods, I missed these."
Ryn laughed around a mouthful. "You sound like you've found religion."
Ferric hesitated, then took a careful bite. His eyes widened, pure bliss spreading across his face. The vendor laughed.
"Let me guess, he's from Lithryia? They always look like that their first time."
Ferric blinked. "How'd you...?"
"Easy to spot," the man said with a wink. "That 'never had deep-fried anything in my life' look gives you away."
Argent chuckled. "What's the Ledger you mentioned earlier?"
The vendor pointed toward the golden manor at the street's end.
"That's the Ledger Headquarters. Merchant faction, one of the Six Greats. They run this city, regulate trade between provinces, take their twenty percent of everything, and make sure everyone keeps buying."
Ward swallowed his bite. "You wouldn't happen to know where the forge district is, would you?"
"Two blocks up, then left," the man said. "Follow your nose, you'll smell the smoke before you see it."
They thanked him and continued on. The streets shifted as they walked, from polished marble and chatter to stone and clangor. The smell of spice gave way to iron and coal.
Sparks flashed from open forges. Blacksmiths hammered on anvils, their rhythmic strikes echoing like heartbeats.
Shop signs hung from iron rods, swinging lightly: symbols of hammers, forges, fire on most of them.
"Feels like home," Ferric murmured, inhaling the smell of metal.
"Home smells like burning metal?" Ryn teased.
"Kinda , yeah."
Ward scanned the street. "We're looking for a sign with a hammer and a mountain. Place is supposed to be called Mountain Smithery."
After a few minutes, Ferric pointed. "There."
The shop stood slightly apart from the bustle, sturdy stone walls, clean but unadorned. Inside, rows of finished blades gleamed under the firelight. No noise but the low hum of the forge below.
They entered, instantly hit by a wave of heat rolling up from a stairwell behind the counter.
"Feels like standing in front of a volcano," Ryn mutters as the heat hits her face.
Ward grinned. "Good sign. Means real work's being done."
The four started looking around at the ready made weapons. Ryn spotted a bucket filled with sharp well made arrows with a sign that says, "20 for 10 merits."
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, then a short, broad figure emerged, wiping his hands on a blackened cloth. His arms were corded with muscle, his beard thick and streaked with soot, goggles perched atop his head.
"Oi!" he barked. "Customers, is it? A rare thing these days."
The four froze.
He squinted at them, then snorted. "Ah, I see that look. Relax, aye? I'm a dwarf, not a monster. Name's Borth. Don't want to kill you, don't plan to."
"My kind has no part with this damned war, but we'll still sell to both sides. Keeps the forges hot and the pockets lined."
Ward extended a hand. "Then we're in luck. Name's Ward. Folks said your work's top notch."
Borth smirked, grasping Ward's hand with a grip like iron. "You heard right. What'll it be?"
Ward cleared his throat. "Bit of a strange order, actually. Two large shields. Big enough for someone my size. But I want the edges sharpened all the way around, like blades."
The dwarf blinked. "You want cutting shields? Two of 'em?"
"Exactly," Ward said.
Borth barked a laugh. "Hells, lad. You humans come up with the dumbest good ideas. Better be good or you'll lop your own legs off before you block a blow."
"Maybe," Ward said with a grin, "but I'll take that chance."
Borth scratched his beard. "Fine then. Iron base, runes of return carved proper, aye. Two days' work, sixty a piece. Hundred and fifty total for the pair with runes."
Ward nodded. "Deal."
Ferric stepped forward. "If you think his request is odd, wait till you hear mine. I want chains."
"Chains?" Borth echoed. "Chains for what?"
"My arms."
"Chains without weapons on the ends?"
"Yup."
Borth squinted. "You're an odd lot. Fine. Eighty merits, runes included. I'll even make 'em look pretty, if that helps you sleep better."
Ferric grinned. "Can't hurt."
The dwarf chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll be the death of me, humans."
He turned toward Argent. "And you? You've got that 'thinking too much before you talk' look."
Argent unwrapped a cloth bundle and revealed the silvery giant's tooth. "I was wondering if you could make a dagger from this."
Borth's eyes widened. "You got that out before the giant shimmered up? Giant's teeth are just as strong as their bodies, aye, they're stubborn things. How'd you pull that off?"
"Another giant took it out and gave it to me," Argent said quietly. "Said it was a token of honor."
Borth's expression softened. "Aye. Honor and such. That is giants for ya." He turned the tooth in his hand, studying it.
"Could make something fine from this, but I'd need crystalline ore for the rest of it. And that's the one thing I'm out of."
Ferric frowned. "Where would you get that?"
"Dungeon," Borth replied. "Every province's got a few. The Fall only has one, though not many have been fool enough to go near it lately."
"Full of spiders, big ones. Dying on the field to a blade is one thing, but being eaten alive? That's another story."
Ryn shivered. "Spiders. Wonderful."
Argent crossed his arms. "Are the dungeons worth it?"
Borth nodded. "If you live, aye. You don't earn merits in there, monsters aren't part of the war, but their parts fetch a fine price."
"Crystals, ore, webs. I'd buy most of it, then you can sell the webs to a weaver if you can bring it back."
Ferric smirked. "So we could fight, earn, and get stronger and richer. Sounds like a plan."
The dwarf chuckled. "Aye, if you don't get eaten first."
He turned to Ryn. "What about you, lass? Need something?"
"Yes," she said. "Forty arrows, and do you know where I could buy a bow that won't snap in half?"
Borth nodded. "Perfect timing. There's a husband and wife two streets over. He's a weaver, she's a woodworker. Their shops are connected, you'll find just what you need."
"I was going to send you all there anyway to get some bags to haul out what you get in the dungeon, good honest merchant them two."
***
By the time they returned to the outskirts, the sky had bruised into orange and violet. The sounds of the city faded behind them, replaced once more by rough laughter and distant crackle of campfires.
Rime, Ember and the twins were already there, sitting cross-legged near the fire.
As the four approached, the flames caught the faint shimmer of the new thigh-strapped pouches at their sides. The leather was fine and each bore a faint weave of runes along the seams.
Ryn brushed her fingers across hers, then glanced at Argent. "You really didn't have to buy these for everyone."
Argent smiled, faintly but proud. "Think of it as an investment. We have just started here and have so far to go."
Ember's head snapped up as they came closer. "Wait, what did you buy for everyone?"