Snakes of weary travellers wound toward the towering gates, each one chasing the promise of rest behind Valthar's walls.
Valen quickly noticed the sour stench emanating from the crowd in front of him, in particular from a group of iron clad soldiers.
He scanned the crests painted across tabards, shields, and banners. None bore his father's sigil.
A blue dragon coiled around a sword resting upon a shield.
It was easier to remember than most, others being simple variations of the royal symbol that screamed Valedryn. A griffin reared on its hind legs, roaring in defiance.
The unfamiliar motifs quickly faded away, as the massive gate groaned upward from the stone floor.
Soon the foul stench of the road was swept away by the breeze, replaced by the smells of civilization; smoke, leather, and cooking meat.
The sound of hooves landing heavily on the ground beside him knocked him out of his trance.
"So... Valen. What's the plan after we reach?" Lyra's voice grounded him with ease.
"Information. We know nothing of the world, or of the beasts that destroyed our home."
Determination was evident in his voice.
"Don't forget coin. The world runs on it," chimed his uncle, an ever present cheeky grin hanging lightly upon his face. "Information won't buy you supper."
Valen nodded. "And coin."
"Big bro, will we keep adventuring?" Zack was sat upon the same gallant mountain pony as his mother. "Or will we find someplace to make a new Ashford?"
His innocent voice spoke the question everyone had been thinking since they joined the dwarven caravan.
"We shall see where Solara guides us." It was the elderly nun who responded, already knowing Valen had not thought that far. He never did think that far.
The line crawled forward inch by inch. Guards shouted orders from the walls while wagon wheels creaked under heavy loads.
Torin guided his pony closer to Valen's side, squinting up at the towering walls.
"Now that," he muttered with quiet admiration, "is proper stonework."
Valen followed his gaze.
The walls of Valthar rose from the mountainside like a cliff carved by giants. Blocks of dark basalt fit together so tightly that the seams were almost invisible, each stone the size of a wagon and polished smooth by centuries of wind. Narrow slits cut through the upper levels in perfect rows, too thin for a man, but wide enough for arrows.
Torin nodded approvingly.
"See the angle there?" He pointed with the head of his hammer. "Wall slopes outward near the base. Stops ladders from settin' proper. And those slits? Crossbow nests. Three layers of 'em."
He leaned forward in the saddle, eyes gleaming.
"And look above the gate. Murder holes. Drop stones, oil, whatever the defenders fancy."
Zack tilted his head. "So… it's impossible to get in?"
Torin chuckled.
"Nothing's impossible, lad. But whoever built this city meant to make an army pay dearly for the privilege." A hint of pride shone through.
"Old dwarven techniques in that foundation. Humans may've raised the towers, but the bones of this wall? Dwarven work."
The caravan slowed as it merged with the crawling line of travelers. What had looked orderly from a distance quickly revealed itself as something else entirely.
Refugees.
Not merchants or pilgrims, but people who had run.
Carts piled high with mismatched belongings creaked under their weight. Blankets were wrapped around children. A mule stumbled past with three sacks of grain tied crookedly to its back.
Valen caught fragments of hushed conversation drifting through the crowd.
"They tore through the watchtower like it were made of straw…"
"I'm telling you, they came out of the ground…"
"Rendlings… gods curse the things…"
A gaunt farmer stood ahead of them clutching the reins of a skeletal horse. His hands trembled as he spoke to a merchant beside him.
"They overran Ashford in a night. Just poured outta the hills. I was lucky enough to be on my way out already."
Valen said nothing.
Argon shifted slightly in his saddle, eyes scanning the line.
A child nearby clutched a wooden toy sword, staring silently at the walls of Valthar.
Another whisper drifted from somewhere behind them.
"Did ye hear about the blaze?"
"What blaze?"
"The blue one. Saw it myself, I swear it. Lit the whole sky like lightning frozen in place."
"A mage?"
"Nay. Not a mage. Somethin' worse."
Valen kept his gaze forward.
Lyra glanced sideways at him, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Popular already," she murmured.
Valen sighed.
"That's exactly what we don't want."
Ahead of them, the line lurched forward another few steps toward the gates of Valthar.
A sudden commotion rippled through the line ahead.
A man forced his way between two wagons, dragging a thin mule behind him.
"Move aside! I've got sick children in the cart!" he barked.
Several travelers shouted in protest as the wagon wheels scraped against theirs.
The disturbance lasted only a moment.
Then a horn sounded from the wall.
Silence spread through the line.
Two guards stepped out from a side gate in the stone, halberds already lowered.
"Back to the end of the line," one of them said calmly.
The man protested.
The halberd shifted slightly closer to his chest.
"End. Of. The. Line."
The wagon slowly turned around.
No one else tried to push forward.
Argon grunted approvingly.
"Good walls," he muttered. "Better guards."
The line crawled forward until the caravan reached the shadow of the gate itself.
Up close, the doors looked even larger.
Iron bands ran across the oak like ribs across a giant's chest.
A human guard stepped forward, his armor bearing the sigil of Valthar.
"Halt the caravan."
Hargrim nudged his pony forward.
"Hargrim Ironledger," he announced. "Trade caravan from the western road."
The guard nodded once.
"Cargo?"
"Steel, tools, grain."
The guard's brow lifted slightly.
"Steel, you say."
Hargrim's beard twitched in something that might have been amusement.
"War's good for business."
The guard leaned closer to the wagon, glancing at the stacked iron crates.
"Funny thing," he said quietly. "Orcs have been swinging dwarven steel lately."
Hargrim shrugged.
"A hammer doesn't choose what it builds."
The guard studied him for a moment… then waved them through.
The caravan rolled forward.
They passed beneath the massive gate, stone swallowing the sunlight.
For a moment the world narrowed to shadow, echoing hoofbeats, and the grinding creak of wagon wheels.
Then they emerged on the other side.
Valen had expected a fortress.
What he saw was a city built around one.
Stone streets climbed the hillside in layered tiers. Smithies roared with fire, the smell of hot iron spilling into the streets. Market stalls crowded the lower square, merchants shouting over the clatter of wagons and the clang of hammer on anvil.
Bells rang somewhere deeper in the city.
Soldiers moved through the streets in disciplined patrols.
Ballista towers loomed above the rooftops, their massive arms already loaded.
Valthar wasn't large.
But every stone of it looked ready for war.
Zack stared wide-eyed.
"Woah."
Argon chuckled.
"Welcome to civilization."