The closer we get, the louder the noise becomes—metal wheels clattering on the wide road, horses snorting, merchants shouting as their caravans shuffle along the wide cobblestone paved road. I lean slightly out the side of the carriage, trying to get a better view through the open flap, and then—
My jaw practically drops.
After spending a week in Tarenwood, I wasn't expecting much from the capital. The town I woke up in was small and plain, all wooden roofs and dusty streets. Cozy, sure, but boring. The kind of place where even the dogs look like they're tired of seeing the same people every day.
But this…
"Whoa."
That's all that escapes my mouth.
The royal capital of Elaris rises before us like something out of a dream.
From afar, the first thing that catches my eye is the wall—no, walls. There's not just one, but two. The outer wall must be at least ten meters high, maybe more. It stretches so far in both directions that it seems to blend into the mountain itself. Built of dark gray stone, smooth and polished, it gleams faintly in the sunlight. Guard towers stand evenly spaced along its length, flags fluttering proudly from their peaks.
Beyond that, a second, smaller wall cuts across the city at a higher elevation. And behind that…
I can't help but whistle softly.
"You see, the capital's built on the side of Mount Irathen," the merchant says, noticing the look on my face. "That's why it looks like it's climbing the mountain itself."
He's right. The city doesn't lie flat like the town I'd seen—it rises in layers, like giant terraces carved into the slope. From here, I can see rooftops stacked above each other, stair-stepped up the mountain's face. Each tier seems to hold a different part of the city, separated by walls and gates.
The lowest area, just beyond the first wall, looks lively but simple—markets, inns, workshops, the smell of bread and smoke drifting even from here. Above that, behind the inner wall, the buildings grow grander—stone villas, gardens, courtyards shining with color. And at the very top, near the mountain's peak, a massive dark structure looms, its towers piercing the clouds like black lances.
It's breathtaking. Beautiful, and a little intimidating.
The merchant chuckles. "Beautiful, isn't it? That castle up there—that's the royal keep. The seat of the kingdom's royal family."
I can't stop staring. "Why up there, though? Is the capital's… division intentional? The walls, the tiers—they almost look like they separate the rich from everyone else."
The merchant glances back with a small, knowing smile. "You're not wrong, lad. The higher you live, the closer you are to the sun, they say."
Before I can respond, one of the men sitting beside me—a lean guy with a scar cutting across his chin—lets out a short, harsh laugh.
"Kid," he says, in that dry, weary tone of someone who's seen too many fools in his life, "if you're thinking of climbing those tiers, forget it. Every country bumpkin who comes to Elaris thinks they'll change their fate. They end up broke, or worse."
I blink at him. "I wasn't—"
He snorts. "Sure you weren't. Listen, take my advice: keep your head down, earn a few coins, stay alive. You'll thank me later."
I offer him a polite nod. "I'll keep that in mind."
But inside, I'm smiling.
Lay low? Keep my head down? That's the last thing I plan to do.
I didn't get reincarnated into a world of magic and monsters just to settle for mediocrity. The first thing I'll do when I step foot in that city is find the Royal Academy and sign up for the entrance exam.
I know it's ridiculous—I heard that only nobles and the most talented of commoners ever make it in. But hey, I've got a literal System backing me up. If that doesn't count as "exceptional," I don't know what does.
As the carriage rumbles closer to the city, the details sharpen. The walls grow taller, shadows stretching long across the road. The crowd thickens—wagons carrying barrels, carts piled with hay, travelers on foot, all funneling toward the massive gate. The air smells of dust, sweat, and roasted meat from the food stalls lining the roadside.
Then, the inevitable happens.
The line stops moving.
We've reached the queue.
It winds like a lazy snake toward the gate, dozens of carriages waiting their turn as guards check papers and collect tolls. Bronn, our driver, curses softly under his breath but reins in the horses.
"Looks like we'll be here a while," the merchant says with a resigned sigh.
"Wonderful," I mutter, resting my chin on my hand. The sun's beating down, the air's thick with chatter, and the carriage creaks every time someone shifts. After the thrill of seeing the capital, this part is… less exciting.
Minutes drag into an hour. The line inches forward, one wagon at a time. Somewhere behind us, a baby starts crying. Ahead, a guard yells at a trader for not having the right entry seal. I'm about ready to doze off when I hear a soft voice beside me.
"Um… excuse me?"
I look up.
It's her—the young lady who's been sneaking glances at me since yesterday. Her hands fidget with the hem of her cloak, and her eyes dart everywhere except at mine.
"If you don't mind," she continues hesitantly, "do you already have an inn to stay in, once we arrive at the capital?"
Her tone's polite, but there's a nervous tremor in it, like she's half-expecting me to ignore her.
I sit up straighter and offer her what I hope is a calm, friendly smile. "Not yet. I was planning to look around once we got there."
Her eyes meet mine for a second—and that's all it takes.
She freezes. Her face turns pink almost instantly, and she looks away, pretending to adjust her hood.
I swear, I'm not doing it on purpose. It's just… this face. I can't control how "heavenly" it apparently is.
I give a small, almost apologetic chuckle. "My name is Ash. What's your name?"
She fidgets, twirling the strands of her hair in her index finger as she speaks, "Eh...Uhm, my name is Emily."
I put up the most charming smile I can muster, "Do you happen to know any good places?"