They left the dock and moved deeper into the city. Loralind was nothing like Puerto Nimbus. There was no noise, no fish stalls, no shouting merchants. The streets were made of clean white stone, reflecting the sunlight. The buildings were tall and elegant, with carved wooden balconies and green-tiled roofs. Trees grew between the houses, some even piercing through walls as if the city had been built around them.
But what stood out the most… was the silence.
The elves walked without making a sound. Their steps were soft, their voices low. They didn't look at the group directly, but Darian felt their eyes on the back of his neck. It wasn't curiosity.
It was judgment.
As if every elf they passed was deciding whether they deserved to be there.
—They don't want us here —Kára muttered.
—No. —Darian didn't take his eyes off the elves—. But they tolerate us.
—As long as we have gold.
—As long as we don't cause trouble.
Vael, beneath the cloak, made a soft clicking sound. Darian tapped him lightly.
—Easy.
---
Elias stopped in a small square. A fountain of crystal-clear water stood at its center. Around it, a few stalls sold crafts, fabrics, jewelry. Few buyers. Everything was orderly, quiet, clean. Elias's owl turned its head, tracking a passing elf.
—Varkas and I will go to the merchant district —Elias said, adjusting his hood—. We'll try to sell some mana crystals. Kára, look for supplies. Darian, go with her. Don't split up.
—What if they ask questions? —Darian asked.
—We're merchants. From Khazad-Val. Selling dwarven goods. Nothing more.
—And if they don't believe us?
—Then we don't stay to argue. —Elias adjusted his hood again, his fingers tense.
---
Kára and Darian walked through Loralind's streets. The shops were small but refined. Elven merchants stood behind polished wooden counters. No bargaining. No raised voices. If you couldn't pay, they simply ignored you.
—This isn't like Khazad-Val —Kára said.
—No. There it's all noise and hammers.
—And bargaining. Here, if you try, they look at you like you spat on the ground.
They passed a fabric stall. A silver-haired elf watched them openly. Not with hatred. With cold detachment. Like someone observing an insect, unsure if it was worth crushing.
—You'd think they've never seen a human —Darian said quietly.
—They have. They just don't want to.
Vael peeked out briefly. The elf narrowed her eyes. Vael tilted his head, confused. The elf returned to her work. Darian noticed Kára's hand had moved to her hammer without her realizing.
She thinks highly of herself, Nox said.
It's not that, Lumine replied.
Looks like she wants a fight.
You always think that.
Because it's always true.
---
One shop caught their attention.
Not because it was good.
Because it wasn't.
It stood on a side street, far from polished storefronts. The facade was old, cracked. Cobwebs clung to the windows. Inside, barely visible through the dirty glass, rusted weapons, dusty armor, and forgotten objects piled up.
It didn't belong.
Kára glanced at Darian.
—We going in?
—Of course.
A bell rang as they entered.
Inside was worse. Dust everywhere. Crooked shelves. The smell of damp and old metal.
Behind a large, sturdy counter sat an old elf. His eyes were white, dull.
Blind.
—Come in —the old man said. His voice was rough, but not unfriendly—. I don't get many customers. Almost none, really.
—We figured —Kára said, running a finger across the counter, leaving a clean line in the dust.
—What are you looking for? Weapons? Armor? Forgotten things?
—Just looking —Darian said.
—No one comes here just to look. But it doesn't matter. Look all you want. You won't steal from me. There's nothing worth stealing anymore.
The old man smiled. Several teeth missing.
—You're foreigners —he said—. I can tell by the smell. Elves don't smell like salt. You do.
—We came by sea —Kára said.
—I know. More of you lately. The guard is restless. Moving more than usual. Haven't seen them this active in years.
—Is that good or bad? —Darian asked.
—Depends. If you've got nothing to hide, it's good. If you do… —He shrugged—. Not my problem.
Kára picked up a small vial with worn runes.
—How much?
—Five coins. Doesn't work anymore. But it looks nice.
Kára placed the coins down.
—Thanks.
—Thanks don't buy bread. Coins do. Safe travels, outsiders.
---
They regrouped at the fountain.
Elias had sold some crystals. Not much—but enough to avoid suspicion. Varkas carried bread and dried meat. His knuckles were still white from gripping the reins.
—The royal guard is more active —Darian said—. The old man mentioned it.
—Is he reliable? —Elias asked, rubbing his eyes.
—No. But he had no reason to lie.
—Then we don't stay.
—We leave tomorrow —Elias said—. To Tyrindel. Then Nímbar. No stops.
—What if they stop us? —Kára asked, hand near her hammer.
—We're merchants. We have documents. And we have a dragon.
Vael peeked out and made a small clicking sound, as if volunteering.
—I wouldn't call that a plan —Darian said.
—It's the only one we've got.
---
That night, Darian sat by the inn's window. The streets were empty. Vael slept in his lap.
Tomorrow, they would head to Tyrindel.
The journey had only just begun.