It was the middle of the day. The ancient and magnificent Aalto City stood next to the Bellen River, looking down at the villages around it.
The wall of the city was not in black, which was what most sorcerers would have liked. It was in dark yellow because it was as old as the everlasting sky.
Although Fernando dared not to fly, he still reached the central city of the empire a couple of days later since he did not rest at night.
He cleaned his clothes and walked to the city gate, which was defended by a dozen sorcerers. Their leader revealed the unmistakable air that he was an archmage!
It was the scorching noon, but peasants, dealers, and citizens going in and out of the city were not reduced at all. One could not help but sense the liveliness and exuberance of Aalto.
"Stop!" A middle-rank sorcerer stopped Fernando in wariness. In such an eventful period, nobody wanted to be killed by the night watchers.
