"The sin of killing someone cannot be atoned for; all you can do is carry the burden until the end." This phrase echoed in my mind, resurfacing unbidden as I recalled what had happened in Craud City. The weight of it sat heavily on my shoulders, a reminder of the dark truths we'd faced and the choices Father had made. No matter how much time passed, the memories would always linger, as vivid as the day they happened.
I found myself sitting on the floor of the carriage, my back against the cool wooden wall, and Chris was beside me, her eyes half-closed as if lost in her own thoughts. The steady rhythm of the carriage wheels clattering against the road had become a familiar, almost comforting sound over the last few days. It was hard to believe that we had been traveling for three days straight, each hour pulling us closer to the capital. Father had mentioned earlier that we were only half a day away, and I was impatient to see the city with my own eyes.
As I stared at the passing landscape, my thoughts drifted between the events in Craud and the uncertain future awaiting us in the capital. The gentle sway of the carriage occasionally made the wooden walls creak, adding to the rhythmic noise that filled the quiet moments. I glanced at Chris, noticing her distant expression. She hadn't said much since we left Craud, and I wondered what was going through her mind.
"Will, Chris!" Father's voice suddenly broke the silence, calling out from the front. "I can see the capital from here; take a look!"
Chris and I exchanged a quick glance before scrambling to our feet. The excitement in Father's voice was infectious, and for a moment, our lingering worries were pushed aside by anticipation. We moved to the front, standing just behind Father's seat. As we leaned over his shoulder, my breath caught in my throat at the sight before us.
In the distance, a colossal wall rose up, encircling an enormous city that stretched as far as the eye could see. I had read about the capital before in old books, but seeing it in person was beyond anything I had imagined. The sheer scale of it left me awestruck. The city was perfectly circular, divided in two by a crescent-shaped landmass that jutted out into the sea.
I took a deep breath, trying to take it all in. The capital city was the largest in the entire Crescent Kingdom, and from this vantage point, I could see why. Its grand walls were fortified, towering high above the landscape with watchtowers at regular intervals, each manned by vigilant guards. Beyond the wall, the city sprawled in a mix of towering spires, domed buildings, and bustling streets filled with people and carts.
"It's even bigger than I imagined," Chris murmured, her eyes wide with wonder. "I've never seen anything like this before."
Father glanced back at us with a small smile, pride glimmering in his eyes. "The capital is the heart of our kingdom. It's where the royal palace, the Deities Basilica, and the grand market are located. A city where history and power come together."
As Father spoke, I continued to take in the city's grandeur. The crescent-shaped land within the circle housed the royal palace, its gleaming towers piercing the sky. Nearby stood the Deities Basilica, its intricate stained glass windows catching the sunlight, painting the ground below in vibrant colors. The headquarters of the Adventurers' Guild and the Merchants' Guild were visible, their banners fluttering proudly in the wind, symbolizing the heart of commerce and heroism within the kingdom.
On the far side of the city, the wall opened to the Dutrain Sea, a vast expanse of shimmering blue that stretched to the horizon. This side of the city had no walls, only the natural defense of the sea itself. There, a series of thirteen small islands were connected by ancient stone roads, each island appearing like stepping stones across the water. These roads were said to have been built by our ancestors, massive slabs of rock laid down through feats of magic and engineering that had long since passed into legend.
On three of these islands stood the academies—training grounds for the next generation. The first was Eins Academy, an imposing structure built from gray stone, where battle-hardened soldiers returned to further hone their magic and swordsmanship skills. The second, Zwei Academy, was grander and more ornate, reserved for the young nobles who would one day command armies on the battlefield. Its halls were dedicated to teaching tactics, leadership, and mastery of both spells and blades. Finally, there was Drei Academy—the commoners' school. It was simpler in design but no less important. Here, ordinary citizens were trained and prepared for the harsh reality of war, their education both a privilege and a curse as they readied themselves for the battles to come.
As I gazed at the academies, a mix of emotions swirled within me—fear, anticipation, and a quiet determination. Soon, Chris and I would be among those students, learning to wield magic and sword with the expectation that we, too, would one day be sent to the battlefield.
"We're almost there," Father said, pulling me from my thoughts. I could feel the carriage beginning to slow as we approached the main gate of the city. The guards stationed there were dressed in gleaming armor, their stern faces betraying nothing as they eyed each newcomer with suspicion.
"Stop here," one of the guards commanded, raising a hand. Father pulled the reins, bringing the carriage to a halt. The guard stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over us. "Purpose of your visit?"
Father climbed down from his seat, meeting the guard's gaze. "We're here to enroll my son and his friend in Drei Academy. I've got the proper papers right here," he said, reaching into his coat and handing over a neatly folded document.
The guard unfolded it, reading through carefully. For a moment, I watched nervously, hoping everything was in order. Father stood calmly, his posture relaxed yet respectful.
The inspection took longer than I expected, with the guards checking our carriage thoroughly and engaging in a lengthy conversation with Father. They seemed particularly interested in him, probably because of the scars on his face and the way he carried himself—like someone who had seen his fair share of battles.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the guard nodded and handed back the papers. "Everything seems to be in order. You may proceed. Welcome to the capital."
Father nodded, giving a polite bow before climbing back onto the carriage. With a light flick of the reins, the carriage began to move once more, passing through the massive gates and into the city beyond.
When the carriage finally entered the city, my eyes went wild, darting from one sight to another. Everything looked new to me, a world far removed from the familiar sights of my village and city of Craud. The streets bustled with life, and the city was a combination of different sights, sounds, and smells. Tall, medieval-style buildings lined the cobblestone roads, each one crafted from sturdy stone and dark wood, their rooftops peaking at various heights. Some structures were adorned with colorful banners fluttering in the wind, showcasing emblems of different guilds, shops, and inns. Everything seemed to have an air of history and permanence, as if the city itself was a living chronicle of the kingdom's past.
The houses were similar to those in Craud but felt more refined and polished. Here, everything was a step above, from the intricate carvings on the wooden beams to the well-maintained stone walls that showed no signs of crumbling. People moved in every direction, their faces lively with conversation and laughter. The streets were a mix of humans and beastkins, interacting freely with one another, their differences seemingly unimportant in the capital where different races interact with each other everyday. I watched as a tall man with fox ears bargained with a human merchant, the two of them smiling and exchanging pleasantries as if they were lifelong friends. It was a sight I wasn't used to seeing—different races living in harmony, a stark contrast to the division I had always imagined.
Father drove the carriage with steady hands, navigating through the busy streets with ease. He seemed more at ease here, like a man returning to familiar ground. The carriage stopped in front of a sturdy-looking building with a large wooden sign that read "White Boar." The sign depicted a boar mid-charge, its tusks bared in a fierce display, a symbol that was both intimidating and welcoming. It was clear that this was an inn, and a reputable one at that, given its prime location near the city's bustling heart.
"Alright, you two, hop out," Father said, pulling the reins to bring the carriage to a full stop. "I'll take Pride and the carriage to the stable."
Chris and I obediently stepped down onto the cobblestone, the cool stone firm beneath our feet. I watched Father guide our sturdy horse, Pride, toward the stables nearby. As he walked away, I took a moment to observe the inn's exterior. Unlike the rundown inns we had seen in the city of Craud, the White Boar was well-maintained, with freshly painted shutters and clean windows that gleamed in the afternoon sun. It was a place that seemed to promise safety and comfort, a stark contrast to the rougher, more transient establishments I was accustomed to.
When Father returned, we finally entered the inn. The first thing that struck me was the warm, inviting atmosphere. The interior was spacious, with a high ceiling supported by thick wooden beams. The walls were decorated with hunting trophies and old maps, giving the inn a rustic charm. A roaring fire crackled in a stone hearth, filling the room with a soft, comforting glow. The tables were neatly arranged, each adorned with a small candle flickering in its holder, casting a gentle light over the polished wooden surfaces.
The innkeeper greeted us with a formal, polite demeanor. He was a tall man, neatly dressed in a tailored vest and crisp white shirt, a stark contrast to the more casual, friendly innkeepers we'd encountered in places like Craud. There was a professional air about him, a sense of decorum that spoke of the inn's higher standards.
"Welcome to the White Boar," the innkeeper said, bowing his head slightly. His voice was measured and smooth, like someone accustomed to dealing with all kinds of travelers.
Father exchanged a few words with him, arranging our stay. The way the innkeeper nodded and spoke in quiet, respectful tones reassured me that this place was indeed trustworthy. It wasn't just the polished look of the place—it was the whole aura of order and professionalism.
After settling the arrangements, Father led us up the stairs to our room. The floorboards creaked softly under our steps, adding a touch of rustic charm to the journey. He had rented a three-person room, and it was the first time Chris and I would be sharing a room with him. The room was simple but comfortable, with three neatly made beds, a small table, and a window that overlooked the bustling street below. It felt safe, a rare feeling these days, and for a moment, I allowed myself to relax.
Not long after we settled in, a knock came at the door. Before we could respond, the door opened, and a man dressed in a crisp uniform entered, carrying a large tray.
"Your order is here. I'll put it on the table," the man announced, his movements quick and efficient, like someone who had done this a hundred times over. He set the tray down with practiced ease, arranging the plates neatly on the table.
"Thanks," Father replied, his voice appreciative but reserved. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a copper coin, which he tossed to the man.
The server caught it without missing a beat, his reflexes sharp and practiced. He bowed his head respectfully, his face showing a faint smile. "Thank you for the tip," he said before quietly exiting the room, closing the door softly behind him.
We gathered around the table, the aroma of the freshly prepared food filling the room. The dishes were simple—a hearty stew, fresh bread, and a side of roasted vegetables—but they looked far better than anything we'd had in a while. We ate in relative silence, the only sounds the clinking of utensils and the occasional murmur of satisfaction. It was a rare moment of peace, and I savored every bite, grateful for the respite.
Once we finished eating, Father pulled out two small silver coins, handing one to Chris and the other to me.
"Have fun today," Father said, his tone casual yet firm. "Tomorrow, we're going to the House Quarter because I need to introduce you to them."
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Huh? Why?" I asked, my voice tinged with confusion.
"To measure if you're qualified to be one of their subordinates," Father explained, his expression serious.
"Huh? I'm going to serve them too?" I was surprised, my mind racing with the implications. The idea of serving anyone, especially some unknown house, was not what I had expected.
Father's expression softened, and he shook his head slightly. "No, I'll do my best to plead so you will not become one," he said, his voice low and earnest. It was the most vulnerable I had seen him in a while, and it made me realize how much was riding on tomorrow's meeting.
"We'll talk about that tomorrow. For now, enjoy your time with Chris," he added, his tone lightening as he gestured toward the door.
"I understand," I replied, pocketing the coin. As much as I tried to push it from my mind, the weight of tomorrow's meeting loomed over me.
After that, Chris and I left the inn, stepping out into the vibrant streets of the city, aimlessly wandering without any particular destination in mind. The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of people going about their daily lives. Market stalls lined the sides of the streets, their vibrant awnings fluttering in the breeze. Merchants called out to passersby, advertising their goods—everything from fresh produce to handmade trinkets, each one eager to catch the attention of curious customers.
Chris's eyes sparkled with excitement, constantly darting around as she took in every new sight. Occasionally, she'd tug at my sleeve, pointing out stalls selling food we'd never seen before. We stopped at one stand selling skewers of grilled meat, the smoky aroma filling the air and making my mouth water. Chris eagerly grabbed one, biting into it without hesitation.
"This is delicious!" Chris exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy as she chewed. The skewer looked like a simple piece of grilled meat, but the flavors were rich and savory, seasoned perfectly with a blend of spices that reminded me of barbecue from my old world.
"Yeah, it really is," I said, taking a bite of my own. The meat was tender, the taste a perfect balance of smoky and slightly sweet, bringing back memories of my old world that felt a lifetime away. It was strange to taste something so familiar in a world so different.
Chris's eyes widened with delight, her cheeks puffed out as she chewed. "I want more!" she said, her voice filled with the kind of enthusiasm only a child could muster.
I chuckled at her eagerness, but I knew we had to be careful with our money. "Okay, but just one more. We'll run out of money if we keep buying," I said, trying to sound firm but finding it hard to deny her when she looked so happy.
"Okay," Chris agreed, though a hint of disappointment flickered in her eyes. I ruffled her hair playfully to lift her spirits, then turned back to the vendor to order another skewer. As we waited, I glanced around, taking in the lively scene of the street.
That's when I noticed a sign that read "Adventurer's Guild" hanging above a large stone building just a short distance away. It was a massive structure, imposing yet inviting, with wide doors made of heavy wood reinforced with iron. The sign itself was carved with intricate details, depicting a sword crossed with a staff, symbols of both combat and magic. I couldn't believe I had missed it earlier. I'd always been curious about the Adventurer's Guild—what kind of people joined, the kind of quests they took on, and the danger they faced. It was a place that seemed to embody the spirit of adventure, filled with those seeking fortune, fame, or just a chance to test their mettle.
I was still staring at the guild when suddenly, the doors burst open with a loud bang, startling me. A bulky man stormed out, his expression dark and stormy. He was dressed in heavy armor, the metal clanking with each step as he moved. His presence was intimidating, and he looked every bit the seasoned adventurer. His face was twisted in anger, and he seemed ready to pick a fight with anyone who crossed his path. I watched as he stormed towards us, his boots pounding against the cobblestones.
"Give me ten of those!" the bulky adventurer barked at the vendor, his voice loud enough to make Chris flinch.
The vendor, a middle-aged man with a kind face, looked taken aback but quickly composed himself. "Okay—ah, I'm sorry, sir, but there are only three left," he said nervously, trying to keep his tone polite. "I'm really sorry."
"Huh?" The adventurer's eyes widened with annoyance, his thick brows knitting together. He glared at the vendor, his expression turning even more sour. "Do you think just three of those will fill me?" he snarled, his voice dripping with disdain.
The vendor bowed his head repeatedly, clearly anxious. "I'm really sorry, sir!" he said again, his voice trembling slightly. He kept his gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact with the intimidating figure before him.
"Tsk!" the adventurer spat, his temper flaring. His eyes darted around, and for a moment, they locked onto mine. I quickly realized I'd been staring at him without even noticing, unable to look away from the unfolding confrontation.
"What are you looking at?" the adventurer snapped, his tone dripping with hostility. He stepped closer, towering over me with his broad shoulders and bulky frame. Chris, sensing the tension, quickly hid behind me, gripping the back of my shirt tightly. I could feel her trembling slightly, her fear palpable.
I forced myself to keep calm, not wanting to escalate the situation. "No, nothing," I replied, averting my gaze and trying to sound as casual as possible, though my heart was beating faster.
The adventurer wasn't satisfied with my answer. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and foul, reeking of alcohol. "No, it seems like you wanted to say something to me just earlier," he growled, his eyes narrowing as if daring me to speak up.
I swallowed hard, refusing to be baited into a confrontation. "No, I don't have anything to say," I answered evenly, hoping that would be enough to end this pointless exchange.
"Tsk!" he scoffed, clearly displeased with my response. He spat at me, the glob of saliva landing on my shirt. I flinched, anger flaring up inside me, but I bit my tongue, unwilling to let this escalate into something worse. The last thing I wanted was a street brawl with a drunken adventurer.
I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white as I tried to rein in my temper. It wasn't worth it. But before I could say anything, Chris stepped out from behind me, her face red with anger.
"I call a pleasant burbling stream here and now! Let the tremendous protection of water be at the location thou seekest!" Chris's voice rang out, filled with defiance. "Water Ball!" she shouted, her tiny hands outstretched. A swirling sphere of water materialized before her, shimmering in the midday sun, and before the adventurer could react, it shot forward, hitting him square in the face.
I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white as I tried to rein in my temper. It wasn't worth it. But before I could say anything, Chris stepped out from behind me, her face red with anger.
"I call a pleasant burbling stream here and now! Let the tremendous protection of water be at the location thou seekest!" Chris's voice rang out, filled with defiance. "Water Ball!" she shouted, her tiny hands outstretched. A swirling sphere of water materialized before her, shimmering in the midday sun, and before the adventurer could react, it shot forward, hitting him square in the face.
The adventurer staggered back, spluttering in surprise as the cold water drenched him. "Don't you dare do that to Will!" Chris yelled, her voice strong despite the tremor of fear I knew she felt.
The bulky adventurer wiped the water from his eyes, his expression twisting into one of pure rage. "You little brat!" he roared, unsheathing his sword with a swift, menacing motion. The blade glinted dangerously in the sunlight, and my heart dropped as I realized this was about to get much worse.
The adventurer looked more pissed than ever, his eyes narrowing as his face twisted into a dangerous scowl. His massive hands gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. The way he glared at Chris and me made it clear he wouldn't hesitate to swing the blade, and in that moment, I could feel the threat of violence hanging in the air. My heart pounded, and a cold sweat broke out on my back. It felt like he could kill us in a heartbeat, and I wasn't sure how to stop it.
As panic began to well up inside me, I quickly got into a defensive stance. I knew I had to protect Chris, no matter what. My legs felt shaky, but I forced myself to stay calm, trying to focus on the situation.
Just as the adventurer took a menacing step forward, something unexpected happened. The sword he had been holding so fiercely flew from his grip as if yanked away by some invisible force. It soared through the air, landing several feet away with a loud clatter against the cobblestones. Stunned, the adventurer turned in the direction the sword had gone, and so did I.
That's when I saw him—standing between us and the adventurer was a young man, probably around my age, with tousled brown hair that caught the sunlight. He looked calm, confident, as if this kind of thing happened to him every day. His presence seemed to stop the tension in its tracks.
"It's not good to point your swords at children," the brown-haired man said, his voice steady but firm as he met the adventurer's gaze. There was an air of quiet authority about him that made it clear he wasn't someone to be trifled with, despite his youthful appearance.
The adventurer, now disarmed and clearly caught off guard, snarled, "Who are you?"
The young man smiled faintly, as if amused by the question. "I'm just a passing pedestrian who can't overlook what you're doing," he replied coolly, his eyes not leaving the adventurer's.
"Tsk! All of you are pissing me off!" the adventurer barked, his anger flaring again, but he seemed to realize there was nothing more he could do. He glanced at the sword lying on the ground, clearly considering whether or not to pick it up, but the presence of the brown-haired man seemed to dissuade him. With a frustrated grunt, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, muttering curses under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.
I didn't let out the breath I'd been holding until the adventurer was out of sight. My body relaxed slightly, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, but my heart was still pounding in my chest. I turned to the brown-haired man, a wave of relief washing over me.
"Thank you for your help," I said sincerely, bowing my head slightly to show my gratitude. I knew that without his intervention, things could have ended very differently.
The young man waved off my thanks with a casual shrug. "No, it's nothing. I only did what anyone would do," he said with a modest smile. Then, with a friendly gesture, he patted my shoulder with both hands. It was a small, reassuring gesture, as if to say everything was fine now.
Chris, who had been hiding behind me the entire time, finally peeked out, her eyes still wide with a mixture of awe and lingering fear. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice a little shaky. She was clearly still processing what had just happened.
The brown-haired man crouched slightly to meet Chris's gaze, his expression gentle. "It's okay now, little miss. You don't need to be scared anymore," he said kindly, giving her a reassuring smile. His calm demeanor seemed to help Chris relax, and I could see her slowly let go of her fear.
As I watched the young man interact with Chris, curiosity got the better of me. "Um, can I ask your name?" I asked, feeling like we owed him more than just a thank you.
He straightened up, chuckling lightly. "I'm Hans," he said, scratching the back of his head as if embarrassed by the attention. "Just a normal student, haha," he added with a laugh that felt strangely carefree, considering what had just happened. "Well, I'll take my leave now."
Before I could say anything more, Hans turned and walked away, his figure quickly blending into the crowd as if he'd never been there at all. I stood there for a moment, still feeling a bit dazed by the sudden turn of events.
The vendor, who had watched the whole thing in stunned silence, finally snapped back to reality. "Here you go, on the house," he said, handing us the skewers of grilled meat we had ordered. His face was full of relief, and I realized that he was just as grateful for Hans's intervention as we were.
"Thank you!" Chris said enthusiastically, her fear now replaced with excitement as she dug into the food. Her appetite seemed to have returned in full force.
I smiled, though part of me was still replaying everything that had happened in my mind. We continued to stroll through the streets, but something felt off. As we passed by another stall, I instinctively reached into my pocket to check on the money I had left, only to find it empty. My heart sank.
One silver coin and two copper coins—gone.
I racked my brain, trying to figure out what had happened. Then it hit me. Hans. When he patted my shoulder earlier, I hadn't noticed it at the time, but that must have been when he took my money. A sinking feeling settled in my stomach, but surprisingly, I wasn't that angry. In fact, I found myself feeling oddly calm about it. After all, he did help us, and maybe, in a strange way, the money was just his compensation.
"Well, looks like we're out of money," I said with a sigh, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
Chris, who had just finished her grillled skewer, looked up at me with wide eyes. "Oh no! Does that mean we have to go back to the inn already?" she asked, her expression falling.
I nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess we'll have to call it a day."
With our heads hanging a little lower, we made our way back to the inn. When we arrived, we found Father asleep at the table, snoring softly. He must have been exhausted from driving the carriage day and night just to get us here. Chris and I exchanged a glance and silently agreed not to wake him. Instead, we climbed into bed beside him, deciding that a nap wasn't such a bad idea after all.