The cart rumbled steadily along the packed dirt road, the faint creak of its wooden wheels blending with the rustle of the surrounding forest. The morning air was crisp, the scent of pine and damp earth sharp in Logan's nostrils. He sat next to Ulrik at the front of the cart, feeling the weight of the two new axes resting on his hips and the sturdy shield strapped to his back. His new furs, gifted by Ulrik, fit snugly over his shoulders, making him look every bit the warrior he was growing into.
He ran his hand over one of the axe handles, tracing the intricate engravings along its steel head. These weren't like the crude weapons he'd taken from goblins—these were forged with care, made to last, and they gleamed in the sunlight.
"Feeling like a warrior yet?" Ulrik asked, his voice gruff but tinged with amusement as he flicked the reins.
Logan gave a faint smile. "I'd say I look the part, at least."
Behind them, Emery sat beside Vidal. She had a new cloak of deep green that Freya had given her, its fabric embroidered with delicate silver thread that shimmered faintly. Strapped to her hip was a wand—more symbolic than functional for now, as she hadn't yet unlocked her ability to channel Mana.
Logan glanced back at her. "How's it feel, Magi?"
Emery shot him a playful smirk. "Not bad, though I think Freya's trying to make me look more capable than I am. I'm half expecting someone to challenge me to a duel."
"Well," Vidal chimed in with a mischievous grin, "if they do, just point the wand and shout something dramatic. That usually works."
Emery rolled her eyes. "Oh, great advice, Vidal. I'm sure the other Magi will be trembling in fear."
Ulrik let out a booming laugh. "Don't worry, girl. By the time you leave Vargshold, no one will be foolish enough to challenge you."
The banter continued for a while, easing the tension in the cart. But as the forest began to thin and the path widened, Ulrik shifted his tone.
"Logan," he began, "when we reach Vargshold, I'll be introducing you to the Elder Man of the Wolf Clan. He's one of the strongest warriors in all of Halgard and a man you'd do well to respect."
Logan nodded, his expression serious. "I'll make sure of it."
"There's more," Ulrik added. "I'll also be introducing you to a friend of mine. His name is Orm Thrysson. He's one of the city's most respected merchants and a man who knows how to navigate its intricacies. If you ever need something while you're in Vargshold—supplies, information, or even a favor—Orm is the one to go to."
Logan frowned slightly. "Why would I need a merchant's help?"
Ulrik smirked. "Because Vargshold is not the war camp. It's a city full of politics, alliances, and ambitions. A warrior fights with his axe, but in a city like Vargshold, you may find that knowing the right people is just as important as swinging the right weapon."
"Orm will be useful," Vidal added. "And, if nothing else, he's excellent at haggling. You might learn a thing or two from him."
The cart rounded a bend, and the forest gave way to open plains. It was then that Logan and Emery caught their first glimpse of Vargshold.
The city rose like a fortress from the landscape, its towering stone walls stretching thirty feet high and flanked by wide towers at regular intervals. A deep moat surrounded the perimeter, its dark waters glinting in the afternoon light. The gates were massive, reinforced with iron, and manned by heavily armed guards.
Above the walls, archers and Magi patrolled, their eyes scanning the horizon with unyielding focus. Logan could feel the intensity of their vigilance even from a distance. This wasn't a sleepy village like Akerholt or a rowdy war camp—this was a city built for defense and survival.
At the gates, a line of caravans, wagons, and travelers stretched out, each waiting for entry. The noise of the bustling crowd carried on the wind, blending with the clatter of hooves and the barked orders of guards.
Emery leaned forward, her eyes wide. "This... this is a city," she breathed.
Logan nodded, his throat dry as he took it all in. "It makes Akerholt and the war camp look like... toy models."
Ulrik chuckled. "This is the heart of the Wolf Clan's territory. You'll see much more of it soon enough. But don't be fooled—beneath the order and strength you see here, there's a fierceness that rivals even the warriors at the war camp. This city belongs to the strong. Laws here are simple: power commands respect, and the weak survive only by staying useful."
His words lingered in Logan's mind as the cart approached the gates. The closer they got, the more he realized the weight of the new world he was stepping into. Vargshold was no mere city—it was a proving ground.
And soon, it would be his.