It consisted of four layers of thick sturdy walls. The outermost wall was the shortest, and each subsequent wall increased in height. The walls were patrolled by knights in golden armor. Under the light of the sun, they looked very heroic. Aethon gazed around for a while before approaching the supersized gate of the city
"Halt! State your purpose!" One of the golden-armored guards at the gate stopped aethon from entering
Hearing this aethon looks a bit confused before finally bringing out the scroll with equinox academy seal on it and handing it to the guard who in turn verified the authencity of the scroll, scrutinized him for some minutes,asking him various questions before handing him a small booklet in which states the city's rules and regulation,and finally letting him enter the city
The city of Ashenwood smelled of magic and mundanity,a very strange contrast of life to him
Aethon adjusted the weight of the Reaper's Fang at his hip as he pushed through the crowded Sunward Market.
"Strange name for strange places" he muttered under his breath
As soon as he passed through the city gate, a cacophony of noise entered aethon ears. The sidewalks were full of people from different kinds of races. Besides humans, there were the fair and beautiful elves, the stout and hardy dwarves, and the small and cheerful gnomes.
This was the first time that he had seen so many people from different races in one place. Before this, he'd only heard about them from wandering bards, and travvelers from . This was an eye-opening experience for him.
All the roads in the city were made of cobblestones, and the sidewalks were completely packed with people and stalls. Here, one could see people of different races mingling with one another.
One thing aethon noticed was the abundance of trees in the city. An earthy scent permeated the city, making one feel refreshed. There was vegetation flourishing almost everywhere he looked. Some trees were taller than buildings, some buildings were taller than trees, and there were even buildings that were actually trees.
"wow" was the only word that could escape from his mouth
Seeing the number of brick-and-mortar stores and the temporary roadside stalls, one could tell that trade was flourishing in Ashenwood City. And it indeed was. Ashenwood City was the greatest mercantile city in the Southern Federation.
Aethon moved through the labyrinthine streets of Eldertree, the city of whispering boughs, where the very air smelled of damp bark and hearth smoke. The cobbled pathways sloped upward, following the spiral growth of the ancient tree that loomed at the city's heart, its roots forming natural archways over alleyways. Lanterns hung from iron nails driven into the wood, casting flickering amber light over the crowds.
He'd never forgot anything the travellers say, although the stories the travelers do relay varies according to their experience but they've always got one in common "In Eldertree, streets had no names—only breath. The city unfolded like a living map"
The air in Eldertree thickened with the scent of damp bark and woodsmoke as twilight settled over the city. Aethon's boots scuffed against the living cobbles—smooth stones fused together by centuries of tree roots threading beneath them like subterranean veins. The Reaper's Fang hung heavy at his side, its usual whispers dulled by exhaustion. He needed shelter.
Aethon's feet ached. The streets of Eldertree wound in confusing circles, the massive tree roots creating natural walls that funneled travelers in frustrating loops. except you have a guide, the afternoon sun slanted through the canopy above, dappling the wooden walkways with golden light that would have been beautiful if he wasn't so damn tired.
He needed an inn-A real one, with a bed that didn't have roots poking through the mattress.
The first inn he found - The Oak and Acorn - had its door barred by two burly Wardens arguing with the owner about unpaid taxes. Aethon kept walking. "not for me"
The second - The Silver Bough reeked of expensive perfumes and had a velvet rope across its entrance. A man in embroidered silks gave Aethon's worn cloak and sword a disdainful look before turning away. "too expensive"
The third - The Laughing Dryad - might have worked, but the raucous singing from within suggested it was more brothel than boarding house. The Reaper's Fang pulsed with interest. Aethon moved on. "filthy"
As dusk painted the streets purple, Aethon spotted a simple wooden sign swaying in the breeze: The Traveler's Rest. No velvet ropes. No Wardens. Just a modest two-story building with smoke curling from its chimney.
The common room smelled of stew and ale. A dozen tired-looking travelers hunched over their meals. At the far end, a bored-looking woman with braided auburn hair polished tankards behind a scarred oak counter.
"Room for the night?" Aethon asked, trying to sound like he could afford it.
The woman - Mara, according to the name stitched on her apron - sized him up in one glance. "Five coppers for a shared dorm. Eight for a private."
Aethon's stomach sank. He had three coppers left after buying foods. "Any work I could do to cover the difference?"
Mara's eyes flicked to the sword at his hip, then back to his face. "Stables need mucking. Do a good job, you can sleep in the hayloft for two coppers."
The stables behind the inn were drafty but dry. Aethon spent an hour shoveling manure and laying fresh straw while the Reaper's Fang muttered insults in his mind.
"We could take a room," it whispered. "One quick slice,have the others drop their purses wilingly and you'd have your pick of beds."
Aethon ignored it. The hayloft wasn't much - just a platform stacked with bales and a thin blanket Mara had tossed up after seeing his work - but it was shelter. He wrapped himself in his cloak, the Reaper's Fang laid carefully beside him.
Through the gaps in the wooden walls, he could see the first stars appearing over Eldertree. Somewhere in this city were answers about his sword. Tomorrow maybe, he'd find them.
For tonight, a hard bed and quiet dreams would have to be enough.