As Leon followed the caravan along Kingdom Avenue, the sight of an ancient stone arch bridge spanning the river captivated him from a distance. Beyond it loomed the grand outline of a city, its tall walls shimmering in the sunlight.
The trio felt a rush of rejuvenation at the sight of their first destination after days of travel; the fatigue of their journey seemed to dissipate. This wasn't just any town; it was the renowned city of Falair County, known as "Dragon Throat" among merchants. Its size rivaled the Holy City of Rolandar, the birthplace of Leon's predecessor, evoking a blend of awe and nostalgia.
As they crossed the long stone bridge over the wide tributary of the Rushina River, they joined a queue of merchants at the massive city gate. However, the knights of Gray Fir Valley were met with the harsh reality of Farayel's regulations. The officers and tax collectors meticulously counted heads, horses, and cargo, demanding payment from Leon and his companions, despite their noble status.
"Even a Duke pays when entering here," one merchant grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "Falaye has always put gold before anything else."
Reluctantly, they paid the toll and stepped into the bustling heart of Dragon Throat. What greeted them was a vibrant tapestry of life; merchants from various lands showcased their wares, clad in colorful attire, some even bearing the distinctive garb of their rivals, the Kantadars, as if the ongoing war was merely a distant whisper.
The market streets were alive with activity, stalls overflowing with fine cloth, glittering jewelry, diverse pottery, and fragrant spices. The air was thick with the sounds of haggling and the enticing calls of vendors.
As Leon passed a jewelry store, a fleeting urge struck him to buy a small token for someone special. However, he quickly squashed the thought; money was a necessity, after all. Navigating through the city, he noticed the meticulous planning that set Dragon Throat apart. The streets were cleaner than those of his own lord's residence, possibly due to the Rushina River's efforts at cleansing, unlike the polluted waters of Farolis.
After inquiring with locals about the nearest Chamber of Commerce, Liam opted to watch over their horses while Leon and Brandon entered the bustling hall. They approached a robed attendant, seeking information on postal services.
"Three golden crowns?" Leon exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. This was a staggering sum, ten times what he had anticipated.
"Ah, dear Sir Pendragon, you must understand," replied a plump old man behind the wooden counter, adjusting his small glasses. "Due to the ongoing war in the central region, our messenger routes have changed dramatically, which has led to these price increases."
The old man, barely noticing Leon's confusion, demonstrated his calculations with a slide rule, as if it were a well-rehearsed performance. "Given that your letter is destined for the farthest location in this batch, our pricing is quite reasonable. No one in Dragon Throat will offer you a better deal."
Unwilling to concede, Leon decided to visit a few more postal services. Yet, every establishment he approached quoted even higher fees for the same delivery. Frustrated, he returned to the original Chamber of Commerce, weariness etched on his face. With a heavy heart, he handed over the coins, knowing that sometimes, the cost of communication was just another burden of their journey.
After leaving the Chamber of Commerce, Leon couldn't shake the sting of the exorbitant postal fees. He made a mental note that when the ransom finally arrived, the first thing he'd do would be to reimburse himself for the postage and travel expenses. Only after that would he divide the remainder among the leaders of his group. The thought brought him some comfort, but he still felt disappointed as he rejoined his companions to find a hotel.
Luckily, the sights along the way began to distract him from the recent financial "butchery." As they walked through the bustling streets, something unusual caught Leon's attention; figures with double horns protruding from their heads. His amazement grew as he observed them up close.
These "horned men" were strikingly tall, towering over the crowd at more than two meters each. Their bodies were muscular, with thick necks and dark brown skin that looked as if it were carved from stone. Their pale, almost silver hair contrasted sharply with their rugged features, which seemed chiseled out of granite. High foreheads, sharp jawlines, and strong noses gave them an almost statuesque appearance. But it was the horns, those upward-curving horns, that made them truly unforgettable.
Leon had seen wild goblins before, those screeching, feral creatures that behaved more like beasts than anything else. But these horned men were different; intelligent, poised, and seemingly at ease among the throngs of people in the city. What surprised Leon most was that none of the locals seemed to pay them any mind. They moved through the crowd as if they were as ordinary as any human, blending in with the merchants and city dwellers.
Only travelers like Leon and his companions stopped to stare, curiosity evident on their faces.
"Are they demons?" Liam asked, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched the figures disappear into the distance.
Leon couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the question. Liam, of all people, asking if someone was a demon, considering he himself had once been possessed by a real devil. The situation seemed almost comical.
Turning to Brandon, who was more knowledgeable about different races and lands, Leon asked, "Do you know what they are?"
Brandon, though equally surprised, nodded. "I've read about them. They're called the Flores, also known as 'Dragon Blood People,' or sometimes 'Dragonfolk' or 'Half-Dragons.' Their homeland is said to be far to the south, even beyond the grasslands of the Uriah people. This is the first time I've ever seen them in person."
Leon's curiosity deepened as he listened to Brandon's explanation. "The world is so vast, filled with wonders we can barely imagine," he said, still marveling at the horned figures. He couldn't help but wonder what it must be like for them to sleep at night, how did they manage with those enormous horns? Surely, their pillows had to be custom-made, or perhaps they slept sitting up!
Despite the excitement of encountering the Flores, the trio didn't encounter any other non-human intelligent races as they continued to explore the city. Leon knew that other races existed in the world; at least, that's what he had heard. There were supposed to be dwarves, for instance.
In the Feru language, the word "Hraen" meant "short ones," referring to the dwarves. Brandon had told him that the special steel used to forge Leon's thorn blade had come from the Heraen, the dwarf craftsmen renowned for their metalwork. But, according to Brandon, these dwarves had disappeared centuries ago, at least from the western part of the continent. Their legendary craftsmanship remained, but the dwarves themselves were rarely, if ever, seen anymore.
And then there were the elves; at least, the elves Leon had read about in books or seen in movies from his previous life. Brandon mentioned that similar beings appeared in Serrian folklore, but those stories were closer to myths than reality. The elves were spoken of in the same breath as dragons; fantastic, elusive creatures, existing more in the realm of tavern tales than actual history.
The demi-humen, on the other hand, were more tangible. In Serrian, demi-humen were often described as savage, fanged monsters who devoured their enemies. Both the Kantadars and the Ulliyas were painted with this brutal image. But when the Kantadar army had finally broken through Rolandar, Leon, who had grown up hearing these tales, was surprised to see that these so-called "monsters" were, in fact, just humans, cruel and warlike, perhaps, but no different from anyone else in their appearance.
In Selva, Leon had occasionally overheard stories from local children about fierce barbarians who lived beyond the borders of Orlando. He wondered whether these "barbarians" were just another human race that had been twisted into myth by conflict, or whether they were something else entirely; perhaps even the demi-humen of legend.
The world was still full of mysteries, and the more Leon traveled, the more he realized how little he truly knew.