After an hour or two of walking through the Sylmare Forest, the trees gradually thinned, revealing a vast clearing ahead. Velren's steps slowed as his gaze lifted—and promptly widened in awe.
Towering before them was the massive gate of the Kingdom of Elyndra. Crafted from blackened iron and intricately engraved with swirling patterns, it stood imposingly high, flanked by stone walls that stretched out of sight. Gleaming sigils pulsed faintly along its surface, casting an ethereal glow that contrasted with the aged stone. Guards in polished uniforms stood at attention, with their halberds that were gleaming under the midday sun.
'Wow...'
Velren found himself rooted to the spot. This... was definitely more than he expected. He had imagined something large, sure—but this? The sheer scale and detail were something else entirely.
"Oi," Gramps's voice broke his trance.
Velren blinked, glancing over to see the old man already a few steps ahead with his arms crossed.
"You comin' or not?"
"R-right," Velren muttered, shaking himself out of it before quickening his pace to catch up.
***
As they passed through the gates, Velren felt like he'd crossed into another world. Elyndra stretched out before him in a tapestry of stone and steam, its skyline was a blend of towering spires and chimneys puffing gentle wisps of smoke. Streets paved with smooth cobblestone branched out in neat grids, bustling with people clad in layered coats, waistcoats, and top hats. Gas lamps lined the roads, their ornate iron fixtures casting soft glows even in the daylight. Carriages drawn by sleek, horned beasts clattered along the avenues, weaving between street vendors hawking roasted chestnuts, polished trinkets, and colorful fabrics that fluttered in the breeze.
Velren's gaze darted upward, catching sight of a magical airship floating lazily above the rooftops—its silver hull was gleaming against the bright sky, and its propellers were humming in a rhythmic pulse. Buildings lined with ivy and adorned with wrought-iron balconies boasted large glass windows, reflecting the vibrant hues of painted signs advertising apothecaries, bookshops, and quaint cafes. The mingled scents of fresh bread, coal smoke, and blooming flowers wafted through the air.
Everywhere he looked, life thrived—laughter echoing from a nearby square where street performers juggled flaming batons, while children dashed through crowds with ribbons trailing behind them. The city hummed with a rhythm both chaotic and captivating.
Velren found himself slowing, taking it all in.
'This... was definitely worth the long walk.'
After spending his entire life in the forest, who would've thought that this world could manage to surprise him yet again? And this time... it was just a... civilization—something so seemingly ordinary.
One thing that, in his old world, was supposedly considered normal.
Wait... no.
Why was he suddenly thinking like this?
There was a term for people like him—those who marveled at the mundane, who found fascination in things others considered everyday. If he wasn't mistaken... what was it called again?
"Oi! I ain't gonna be responsible if you get lost, kid!" Gramps's voice cut through his thoughts.
Velren gulped, darting his eyes to where the old man was already walking ahead. Without wasting another second, he rushed to catch up.
***
Their footsteps echoed along the cobbled streets as they navigated the city. At first, they passed through bustling districts—bright storefronts displaying gleaming trinkets and vibrant fabrics, open-air cafes with chattering patrons sipping steaming drinks, and street musicians plucking lively tunes that seemed to breathe life into the cobblestone beneath their feet. Pigeons fluttered overhead, and the air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
But as they continued walking, the scenery subtly...
Shifted.
The cheerful clamor dulled, replaced by the distant creak of rusted signs swaying above narrow alleys. Gas lamps flickered as their warm glow was now casting elongated, twisted shadows along the uneven walls. Paint peeled from buildings here, revealing aged brickwork beneath, and the polished carriages of earlier streets gave way to creaky carts pulled by grumpy-looking mules. The cobblestones grew rougher, stained with grime and dotted with puddles.
Velren glanced around, uneasy. The people were different here—cloaked figures loitered in alleyways, exchanging hushed words and wary glances. A man in a patched coat leaned against a wall, puffing a crooked pipe, while a group of kids dashed around. The air smelled of damp wood and something faintly metallic.
"Uh... are you sure we're heading the right way?" Velren asked, quickening his steps.
Gramps didn't answer. He just kept walking.
"Hey—wait!"
Velren called, glancing over his shoulder at a figure watching them from a shadowed doorway. He gulped.
'Definitely should've stayed back at those nicer streets...'
Finally, Gramps came to a stop in front of a worn wooden building. Above the door hung an iron sign, its letters were faded but still readable:
"Steelthorn Armory."
Velren eyed the scratched walls and the flickering lantern hanging overhead.
'Yup... definitely sketchy.'
Gramps reached for the handle.
"C'mon. We're here."
The door groaned open—and Velren's eyes widened.
Contrasting its dingy exterior, the inside of the shop was immaculate. Polished wooden floors reflected the soft glow of overhead lamps, and neatly arranged racks displayed weapons of every kind—swords with gleaming blades, axes with engraved handles, and daggers that shimmered with faint enchantments. Shields adorned the walls, some bearing faded crests, while sets of armor—ranging from sleek leather to heavy plate—stood proudly on stands like silent sentinels. The air smelled of polished steel, oiled leather, and faintly of incense burning somewhere in the back.
Behind a sturdy wooden counter sat a broad-shouldered man, his beard was thick and peppered with streaks of gray. A leather apron hung from his neck, stained with soot and grease, and his arms were bulged with muscle beneath rolled-up sleeves. He lifted his gaze as the two entered the store.
"Well, look who finally dragged himself in," the man rumbled.
Gramps smirked.
"Hello to you too, Harven. Is it ready?"
Without a word, the bearded man nodded and disappeared through a curtained doorway, leaving them alone in the main room.
Velren's gaze wandered. Swords, spears, bows—so many weapons. He reached out, brushing his fingers on the cool steel of a curved blade.
"Take your pick," Gramps said suddenly.
Velren blinked.
"Say what?"
The old man leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.
"You heard me. Pick somethin'. It's about time you had one of your own."