Chapter 55: The Main City
The forest began to thin as the sun climbed higher.
By mid-morning, the ancient trees that had pressed close to the road for most of the journey finally gave way, opening into rolling meadows dotted with wildflowers.
The rune-carved trail markers still gave off a faint glow at regular intervals, but they were no longer the only sign of civilization.
A merchant cart rattled past, pulled by a pair of shaggy oxen. The driver, a weathered man with a logistics corps badge pinned to his collar, tipped his hat as he went by. Not long after, a group of Resonators rode past on horseback, their armor catching the morning light.
"We’re getting close," Rook said. "Traffic picks up about ten kilometers out."
Sera stretched her arms above her head. "I’ve never been so happy to see other people. No offense to present company."
"None taken," Lena said. "I’m tired of eating my own cooking."
"It was good cooking."
"Then you should visit my lab sometime. You can try my actual cooking, the kind made with modern tools."
The road rose over a low hill, and the valley opened before them.
The farmland came into view first. Fields of golden wheat swayed in the breeze, and orchards heavy with fruit lined the roadside. Windmills turned slowly on the distant hills, their sails bright in the morning sun.
Neat irrigation channels cut through the crops in straight lines, drawing water from somewhere beyond the rise.
And beyond the fields, a wide river curved through the valley floor, its surface flashing in the light. Barges moved lazily along the current, their decks stacked high with cargo crates. At a narrower crossing, even a surprisingly modern ferry was making its way across.
Thornhaven stood on the far bank.
The city spread along the waterfront, its oldest buildings clustered near the docks: dark, weathered stone structures that had stood for decades. Farther up the slope, the architecture changed.
Newer buildings of white stone and timber rose along the gentle hillsides. Towers punctuated the skyline at regular intervals, their peaks flying guild banners in colors Damon didn’t recognize.
A great bridge crossed the river at its narrowest point, its arches reinforced with rune-carved stone. Traffic moved steadily across it in both directions, merchants and Resonators and townsfolk all flowing through the city in an unbroken stream.
"Quarter of Earth’s surface," Sera murmured. "And this is only one of its many major cities."
Rook led them down the hillside toward the bridge. As they descended, the road grew busier, and by the time they reached the riverbank, they were moving with a crowd.
Merchants called out from roadside stalls, their voices blending with the creak of wagon wheels and the distant ring of a blacksmith’s hammer.
Two guards stood at the bridge entrance, their armor marked with the same guild symbols as the banners on the towers. They let the group pass with little more than a glance. Traffic into Thornhaven was constant enough that no one bothered with individual inspections.
The city seemed to take them in at once.
The streets were narrow and winding, built more for foot traffic than for wagons. Buildings rose three or four stories on either side, the lower floors filled with shops and workshops.
The smell of fresh bread drifted from a bakery, warm and sweet against the sharper scents of leather and iron from a nearby forge.
Resonators moved through the crowd with the easy certainty of people who knew the city well. Their gear was unlike what Damon was used to seeing at the academy, better made, custom-fitted, clearly forged by master smiths rather than churned out in workshop batches.
"The guilds," Rook said, noticing his gaze. "Each one has its own crafters, suppliers, and standards. If you want the best gear, you buy from a guild."
"Which guild is the best?" Sera asked.
"That depends on what you’re after. The Forgewardens do the best metalwork. The Verdant Circle handles alchemy and potions. The Stormchasers—" she glanced at Sera’s staff, "—specialize in elemental magic. They’d pay well for a Storm Caller of your caliber."
Sera’s eyes widened. "Pay well?"
"Don’t get too excited. Guild contracts come with obligations. You’d be expected to take jobs, train apprentices, and help build the guild’s reputation. It’s not just free equipment."
"Still sounds worth looking into."
Lena had stopped in front of a shop window.
The sign overhead read VERDANT CIRCLE — ALCHEMICAL SUPPLIES.
And the display behind the glass was packed with ingredients she’d only ever seen in textbooks. Her reflection looked back at her, wide-eyed and stunned.
"Damon," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They have Moonpetal. Fresh Moonpetal. And that’s a fully mature Frost Lotus. Do you have any idea how rare—"
"Breathe, Lena."
"I am breathing. This is me breathing."
Rook let out a small laugh.
"The Verdant Circle’s main hall is a few blocks north. They do tours for visiting alchemists. I can take you there once we’re settled."
Lena turned to Damon with an expression that was trying very hard to stay composed and failing completely.
"Can we?"
"We’ve got time," Damon said. "Let’s find an inn first, drop off our gear, and then you can nerd out over rare herbs."
The inn Rook chose was called The Dusty Cartographer, a four-story building tucked into a side street near the market district.
Its common room was warm and busy, full of low conversation and the clink of glasses. A massive map of the known geography covered one wall, its edges crowded with handwritten notes from travelers.
Rook handled the arrangements, securing three rooms and a corner table for dinner. Sera excused herself almost at once, citing an urgent desire to visit the Stormchasers’ guild hall before sundown.
Lena lingered only long enough to drop her satchel in her room before dragging Damon back toward the door.
"The Verdant Circle closes at sundown," she said. "If we don’t go now, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow."
"Then let’s go."
