As he walked, Faelan heard whispers from passing soldiers.
"Are you serious?" the first asked.
"Keep your voice down. And yes, I'm serious. There have been sightings of her in town, though no one's confirmed it," the second replied.
"Something like that… possible? I thought it was just rumors—like how people say the leader of Solax is breeding Azryx," the first muttered.
The second laughed. "Now, that is ridiculous."
Faelan kept walking, careful to appear absorbed in his path. His mind didn't dwell on the whispers; the rumors were just noise. What consumed him was the thought of the mayor—the person he had to deliver the package to.
The corridor ended at a set of tall, carved double doors. Faelan paused for a moment, adjusting the package and taking a steadying breath. A polished brass plate on the door read simply: Mayor of Grarg's Keep.
He knocked lightly. A voice, calm but firm, called from inside: "Enter."
Pushing the doors open, Faelan stepped into a spacious office. Sunlight streamed through high windows, bouncing off polished stone and a large wooden desk at the far end. Behind it sat a man with sharp features, dark hair streaked with grey, and piercing green eyes that seemed to measure everything at once. His hands rested on the desk, fingers interlaced, and a map of the surrounding region was spread before him.
"You must be a messenger," the mayor said, voice smooth and authoritative. "I assume you have something for me?"
Faelan carefully set the package on the desk, bowing slightly. "Yes, sir."
The mayor studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Good." He gestured to a chair. "Sit. You've traveled far."
Faelan obeyed, dropping onto the chair, his legs tired. The mayor's gaze swept over him again, sharp and assessing, as if weighing not just his words but the very essence of his presence.
Then turned his gaze to the parcel in front of him, carefully unwrapping only a part of it, his eyes widened in awe.
"This package," the mayor continued, leaning back slightly, "contains quite the object, I do hope you know that this is something important."
Faelan nodded. "Yes, sir. I do."
"You've done well getting here intact." Hands behind his head, gaze drifting to the map on the desk. "This package is just the beginning. The contents are sensitive, and the road back will be no easier. I'll need you to keep moving."
Faelan swallowed hard, the weight of the words settling over him. "Yes, sir. Understood."
The mayor's expression softened, just slightly. "Rest today. You'll need every ounce of strength for what's ahead. Tomorrow, I'll have further instructions. Until then, consider this city your temporary refuge."
Faelan rose, bowed, and left the office.
By the time he got out of the building there was a vehicle parked outside, the driver said to him,"the mayor wants you at the best hotel in town,all expenses paid of course", Faelan reluctantly got in and they went on their way.
The vehicle hummed softly as it rolled down the cobbled streets of Grarg's Keep. Faelan sat stiffly in the backseat, hands gripping the edge of the worn leather seat. The city passed by in a blur—stone buildings stacked high, markets bustling with late-afternoon trade, and guards stationed at every corner, their eyes scanning the crowds.
"Best hotel in town, huh?" he muttered under his breath, glancing at the driver through the rearview mirror. The man gave no reply, focused on the road. Faelan exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders relax a fraction. It felt strange—luxury, comfort, a break from the harsh roads and the unyielding wilds.
The vehicle turned onto a wide avenue, flanked by manicured gardens and fountains, their waters sparkling in the afternoon sun. Finally, it stopped in front of a tall, well-kept building with polished wood doors and a sign swaying gently in the breeze: The Silver hand hotel.
Faelan stepped out, adjusting the strap of the heavy package. The driver nodded toward the entrance. "Mayor's instructions—room is ready, all arrangements handled."
Inside, the inn was quiet but elegant. Rich tapestries hung along the walls, the floors gleamed as though polished daily, and the air carried the scent of fresh bread and lavender. A clerk stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"Welcome, sir. Your room is prepared, and your meals will be sent directly. The mayor sends his regards."
Faelan simply nodded, accepting the package from the driver and letting him leave.
He entered the room, a spacious suite with a window overlooking the city. For a moment, he allowed himself to sit.
Faelan dropped onto the soft mattress, letting out a long, shaky breath. The room was quiet, save for the distant clatter of carts and the hum of conversation drifting up from the streets below. The comfort felt foreign, almost unreal.
He set the package carefully on the small table by the window and studied it. Its edges were smooth, almost deceptively plain, but he knew better than to judge by appearances. Inside could be anything—plans, secrets, or information that could shift the balance in ways he couldn't yet imagine.
He looked around the room. Polished wood, clean linens, and the faint scent of lavender from the small sachet on the dresser—it all screamed stability.
He moved to the window and gazed down at the streets below. Guards passed in methodical rhythm, merchants shouted prices, and townsfolk went about their errands. Life moved here with order, purpose—but it wasn't the same as freedom.
Faelan sat there for a while, letting the sun slide lower in the sky.
A knock sounded at his door.
"Special delivery for Mr. Faelan," a woman's voice called.
Curious, Faelan opened it. A young woman stood outside—striking, confident, dressed light enough to make him hesitate. Long black hair brushed her shoulders, and as she stepped past him into the room, the faint scent of jasmine followed.
"W-who are you?" Faelan stammered.
"Aisling," she replied calmly. "I'm here to keep you company tonight."
"I-I don't need any company," Faelan said, refusing to meet her gaze. "You can leave."
She smiled faintly. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. I've been paid quite well to make sure you enjoy the night."
"I can't exactly enjoy my night with you here."
Aisling studied him. "Just to be clear—you do know why I'm here, don't you?"
"Of course," Faelan said. "I just don't want any part of… this." He gestured toward her.
"This?" Her eyes flashed, then she drew a slow breath, reins tightening on her temper. "Then tell me—who are you, and what is your post?"
"Faelan," he replied. "A messenger."
"You're not even important," she scoffed. Then she hesitated. "Or… are you playing for the other team?"
"No," Faelan said, without missing a beat.
"Then what's your deal?" she said, annoyed. "Because I can't leave—so what's the plan?"
"Fine. You can stay," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Take a blanket and sleep on the floor."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped. "Shouldn't the lady get the bed in situations like this?"
"You're getting paid just to be here," he said flatly.
"That's only because I value my life."She froze.
The words hung in the air.
Faelan's expression hardened. "What do you mean by that?"
"N-nothing,"she replied and turned away."Pretend you didn't hear that."
"But I did."
"Listen," she said, taking a deep breath. "When an official in Solax gives an order, a nobody like me follows it."
Her lips curved slightly. "The pay wasn't bad either."
What Aisling had said made him wonder what the mayor would want, especially since refusal was not an option.
"Looks like we'll have to share the bed," she said, dragging him out of his thoughts with a sly smile.
"Sure," he said, catching her off guard.
"Goodnight." He rolled onto his side, letting sleep take him.
****
He woke to weight across him and a warmth that wasn't his own. Blinking awake, he realized Aisling was lying against him. He quickly shifted away, cheeks tinged red.
He didn't waste a moment getting ready to leave.
Faelan stepped out into the morning bustle of Grarg's Keep, the streets alive with merchants calling their wares and the clatter of hooves on stone. The package rested heavily against his back.
Guards in polished armor kept watch from high balconies and street corners, their presence a constant, silent assertion of order.
He approached the gates of the mayor's building again, where a clerk waiting at the threshold recognized him immediately. "Messenger. The mayor will see you now," the clerk said, giving a small nod toward the massive doors.
Faelan adjusted the strap of the package, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward.
The doors swung open with a low creak, revealing the mayor's office once more. The sunlight streaming through the high windows cast geometric patterns across the polished floor, highlighting the map sprawled across the desk. The mayor sat behind it, reviewing some papers, his sharp green eyes lifting as Faelan entered.
"Good morning," the mayor said, voice calm but commanding. "I trust your night was… satisfactory?"
"You could say that, I guess." Faelan replied.
The mayor nodded, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Very well. The package you carry must reach Harzia without delay. It is imperative that nothing interferes with its delivery."
Faelan lowered himself into the chair, the weight of the package pressing against his back. "Understood. I'll make sure it gets there safely."
The mayor tapped the desk lightly, producing a small, folded note. "This is a map with waypoints and safe houses between here and Solax. Memorize it. You may not have time to consult it along the way."
Faelan unfolded the note carefully, scanning the routes marked, and committed them to memory as best he could. The weight of responsibility settled firmly on his shoulders. The quiet hum of the office, the sunlight, and the city beyond the windows contrasted sharply with the perilous journey that lay ahead.
Rising, Faelan nodded respectfully. "I won't fail."
The mayor's expression remained unreadable. "See that you don't. Time waits for no one."
Faelan turned and exited the office, the heavy package pressing against him, the roads beyond Grarg's Keep waiting, and the first real test of his journey looming just over the horizon.
He pressed onward, heading toward the heart of Solax. Harzia awaited him at the end of the road.