Serenas sprawled before Ban, revealing itself in layers of grandeur and intricacy. The outer walls, formidable and imposing, stood tall against the sunny backdrop. The stone structures rose like sentinels, their surfaces weathered by time and adorned with moss that added an ancient charm to the city. Ban squinted to catch glimpses of the spirals that adorned the towers, their tips disappearing into the low-hanging clouds.
As the wagon neared the city gates, Ban's eyes widened. The gates were massive iron drawdown structures shadowed by a wooden door, a testament to the city's might and the need for security. Guard towers flanked the entrance, their stone faces engraved with the stoic expressions of those who kept watch. The gates themselves were adorned with intricate ironwork, forming patterns that seemed to tell stories of ages long past.
A line of people waited to enter the city, their faces bearing the weariness of travel and the anticipation of what lay beyond. The guards, clad in armour that gleamed despite the overcast sky, inspected each newcomer with practised efficiency. A feeling of unease settled in Ban's stomach as he observed the thoroughness of the searches.
Eamon steered the wagon towards the gate, and Ban felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The bustling activity around the entrance suggested that Serenas was a city teeming with life and diversity. However, the guarded scrutiny at the gates hinted at a different side of the city—a place where every newcomer was regarded with suspicion.
Some savvy merchants opted to camp out near the entrance to catch those too desperate or unable to wait to go inside and seemed to be doing brisk trade at this time of day.
The city path leading through the gates was made of sturdy cobblestone, worn smooth by the countless feet that had traversed it over the years. Carts laden with goods rolled by, their wheels echoing against the stone surface. Merchants haggled with the guards, and the air was filled with a cacophony of voices and the distant sounds of city life.
“Don’t worry lad, this usually doesn’t take too long despite the line.”
Eventually, it was their turn, and Eamon exchanged a few words with the guards as they approached.
“State your business.” The guard closest to them promptly asked.
“Here to trade my wares,” Eamon stated. The guard simply nodded to his companion who took a few steps forward and started his inspection. Meanwhile he began reciting in a bored fashion; “Magical artefacts are not permitted within the city walls. Stay away from the Sesta borough unless you have a permit.” He looked up from his papers briefly to confirm the nod from Eamon.
Ban couldn't help but notice the thorough inspection each wagon received. Even though some of the guards appeared to recognise Eamon, theirs was no exception, the guards were clearly searching for hidden contraband or unwelcome passengers. His eyes darted around, he observed the faces of other people who had their belongings inspected, most seemed completely indifferent having gone through this many times.
The guards finally waved them through, and the wagon entered Serenas. The city's heartbeat pulsed through the cobbled streets. Buildings of various shapes and sizes lined the path, their facades telling stories of prosperity. Ban marvelled at the architecture—ornate balconies, colourful banners, and occasional glimpses of elegant spires towering above.
People bustled about, each engaged in their own pursuits. Market stalls lined the streets, offering goods that ranged from exotic spices to intricate trinkets. The aroma of street food wafted through the air, enticing hungry passersby. Ban took in the array of faces—merchants, beggars, scholars, and soldiers—all woven into the vibrant tapestry of Serenas. Every now and then Ban saw some men dressed in a deep, rich navy-blue clothing with some gold embroidery, everyone seemed to give these people a wider berth than normal.
Curious he asked Eamon, “Who are they? Do they all belong to the same school or something?”
“I told you you’d see them around town. They’re mages, they don’t always dress like that, but formal occasions seem to require some decorum. Some of them are commoners like us, but not many would happily admit it, so the uniform helps give them some status for special occasions.”
As the wagon navigated the winding streets, Ban couldn't shake the feeling that every corner held a secret, every alleyway whispered a tale. The city embraced both opulence and destitution; he saw plenty of people who, based on their circumstances, appeared to live on the street. He also spotted plenty who wore gaudy thick fur and expensive-looking jewellery, apparently unconcerned for their own wellbeing. The whole situation created a paradox that intrigued and unsettled him.
Eamon brought the wagon to a halt in a relatively quieter part of the city. Ban stepped down, his boots hitting the cobbled streets with a soft thud. He looked around, taking in the surroundings—narrow alleyways, slightly less crowded than the main thoroughfares, and buildings with faded signs that hinted at past prosperity.
Eamon turned to Ban with a warm smile. "Well, lad, we made it to Serenas. Quite the place, isn't it? Now, I know you’re new to this city life, and Serenas can be a bit overwhelming at first. If you need a place to stay, you're more than welcome to share my lodgings for a while. No charge. It's the least I can do for a companion on the road."
Ban’s stomach turned in knots, he looked to the floor and back up to meet Eamon’s eyes. The offer seemed genuine, and Eamon's generosity was evident. He had to admit he was tempted; he was nervous about setting out on his own again with little more than the tattered clothes he was wearing.
However, his pride rebelled. As much as he liked Eamon and was thankful for the lift, he didn’t want to be reliant on what effectively was, at best, a new acquaintance and, at worse, a complete stranger. His recent misfortune still seemed too raw for him to consider relying on someone else like that. Even in a city that seemed as vast and complex as Serenas. He hesitated, his mind warring between practicality and the stubborn determination to stand on his own two feet.
"Thanks, Eamon. I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll manage on my own," Ban replied, forcing a small smile. "I've been through worse. Besides, I wouldn't want to impose on your kindness any more than I already have."
Eamon studied Ban for a moment, his eyes reflecting understanding. "Well, lad, the offer stands. If you change your mind or find yourself in a tight spot, I’ll be in the market square for at least three days, maybe longer if purses are thin. Just be careful. Serenas can be a tricky place, especially for those new to its ways."
Ban nodded appreciatively. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks again, Eamon, for everything.” In a moment of introspection he accepted that his momentary cheery companion had done a lot of soothe his wounds, at least on the surface.
Eamon chuckled, patting Ban on the shoulder. "My pleasure, lad. Safe travels, and may the road treat you kindly. Don't be a stranger if our paths cross again."
With that, Ban bid farewell to Eamon, watching as the merchant wagon trundled away, disappearing into the labyrinthine streets of Serenas. Alone in the bustling city, Ban took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenges that lay ahead.
Without a better plan, Ban meandered through the streets in an attempt to better familiarize himself with the lay of the land. He found himself still alone in the vibrant and bustling city as the sun dipped below the horizon. Eventually the evening chill began to set in and the sounds of the city, once a symphony of activity, slowly appeared to dimmish until what sound remained appeared distant and hollow.
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Trying to stay warm he increased his pace, but after a few hours of walking around his stomach voiced its discontent with a growl that could rival a disgruntled dragon. Regrettably, the consequences of turning down Eamon's hospitality hit him like a brick thrown through a window. He was now cold, hungry, and still as coinless as a tune-deaf bard.
The bright northern star signalled the time was past midnight, the temperature dropped further, and his breath materialized in the chilly air. He wrapped his arms around himself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. The tantalizing aroma of street food that had filled the air during the day was absent at this hour. The streets, which had been teeming with life, now felt desolate.
He continued wandering through the alleys, seeking a place to huddle for warmth, he spotted a few guards who gave him a weary look but ignored him otherwise. The faded signs of once-prosperous establishments loomed overhead, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets. Each step seemed heavier than the last as exhaustion and hunger took their toll.
As Ban meandered closer to the docks, the air carried the distinct and not unpleasant scent of saltwater. The sound of waves lapping against the shore became a melancholic backdrop to his predicament. Serenas, with all its grandeur, felt like a harsh and unforgiving mistress to a newcomer with no coin to his name.
He considered finding a quiet spot to spend the night, away from the prying eyes of the city's residents. Wondering a little further he eventually found a dusty doorway hidden away in an alley and he decided to use it as his bed for the evening. He managed some fitful sleep but woke up before the sun had fully risen.
Poor sleep added to his already foul dispassion, the little sleep he’d managed brough horrible dreams of Besart that plagued his thoughts. He needed to do something about his situation before it got more desperate.
It was on his way back from the docks that Ban spotted the flickering glow of a blacksmith's forge in the morning darkness. The forge was tucked away in what appeared to be a designated area for industry. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed through the air. A small beacon of warmth and activity in the otherwise not yet functional city.
Approaching the forge, Ban hesitated for a moment before summoning the courage to step inside. The blacksmith, a burly man with soot-streaked skin posed an intimidating figure as a scowl etched into his face and he glanced up from his work. The intense heat of the forge contrasted sharply with the frigid air outside.
"What do you want?" the blacksmith grumbled, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
Ban cleared his throat, his words stumbling out in the face of the blacksmith's hostility. "I... I'm looking for work. I can help around the forge, carry things, or... anything you need, really.”
The blacksmith's scowl deepened. "I don't take in strays, and I certainly don't need any help. Now, I’m busy, get out before I decide to throw you out."
Ban's shoulders slumped, disappointment and desperation evident on his face. He nodded, a silent acknowledgement of defeat, and turned to leave the forge. The morning salty air greeted him once more as the blacksmith resumed his work, paying Ban no further attention.
Ban walked away from the forge with a heavy heart, the weight of rejection lingering in the chilly morning air. He meandered through the waking city, his mind racing to find a solution to his predicament. The streets were beginning to come alive with the activity of early risers, and vendors were setting up their stalls for the day.
As he walked, Ban noticed a bustling marketplace not far from the main market. Stalls were being arranged with an assortment of goods—from fresh produce to handmade crafts. Perhaps, he thought, there might be an opportunity for him to earn some coin and break free from the shackles of destitution.
Approaching a stall with colourful fabrics and trinkets, Ban mustered the courage to inquire about possible work. The middle-aged woman tending the stall looked up from her arrangements, her eyes sizing him up with a mixture of curiosity and caution as if weighing whether she could bag an early sale.
"Need a hand, ma'am?" Ban asked, trying to sound confident despite his weary appearance. "I'm looking for some work, anything to earn a bit of coin."
The woman studied him for a moment, her expression softening. "You look like you've been through a rough night. Maybe more than one. What can you do?"
Ban took a deep breath, determined to present himself as a capable worker. "I can help set up stalls, carry goods, and maybe even assist with sales. I'm a quick learner, I won't let you down."
The woman nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. "Alright, lad. Let’s see if you’re all that. Help me set up this stall, and if things go well, I might have more work for you." She handed him a stack of vibrant scarves and began arranging them on the display.
Ban worked diligently, arranging the scarves in an eye-catching manner. After that, he began putting out a few signs and models the lady had stored in her locked-up stall over the night. All throughout this, the stall owner kept looking his way. After the stall was set up, Ban gave the lady a look to confirm he was ready for his next task.
Unfortunately, what she said next wasn’t what he was hoping for.
“Here you go lad,” she said as she handed him a few bronze pennies, “I’m sorry, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but my nose still works. With you around I won’t be able to sell much, you look like you’ve been living in a dirt puddle and smell like a tannery. Come back if you get yourself in order.” With those final words, she shooed him away him away.
Ban, though disappointed, accepted the few pennies graciously, understanding that appearance played a crucial role in securing work. With a heavy heart, he wandered away from the marketplace, contemplating his next move. The tantalizing scent of street food wafted through the air once again, reminding him of his persistent hunger. He decided to hold off, he only had a few precious coins and didn’t want to spend it if he was going to regret it later.
As he strolled through the city, Ban had to ask for directions a few times before he finally found what he was looking for. A sign posted on the street pointed towards the public bathhouse. The idea of a warm bath appealed to him, and frankly, the lady was right; he had a month of grime all over him; he just hoped he had enough coin. As it turned out the bathhouse was very affordable.
Inside, the air was thick with steam, and the sound of running water created a soothing backdrop. Ban approached the reception, where a stout man with a welcoming smile greeted him. "Looking for a bath, are ya?”
With a forced smiled he responded “What gave me away?”
“Ha! That’s the spirit. Well, you've come to the right place. It's a bronze penny for entry, and towels are provided. You won’t get a better deal than that!”
Ban paid the modest fee and was directed to the bathing area. The warmth of the water eased the tension in his muscles, he had to admit, this was infinitely better than a river. He took a moment to revel in the simple luxury of a hot bath; he noticed the few wounds he’d acquired from his fight with the beast had healed up nicely, and barely any scar had developed. He let out a satisfied breath he didn’t know he was holding.
As he soaked, his mind raced with thoughts of how to improve his situation. A few people had come and gone, two young men had joined him and seemed to be having a heated debate. They continued their conversation, the intensity of their discontent echoing off the steamy walls of the bathhouse. Ban, still submerged in the warm water, couldn't help but overhear their heated exchange.
“… unbelievable! And he was highly recommended too! Total waste of silver. Who does he think he is giving me all that attitude and charging so much for that piece of crap he sold us.” The blond man grumbled.
The other man nodding along with a smug expression then added, “Sometimes people only learn with a little encouragement, why don’t we go pay him a visit and see about getting your silver back?”
“After the embarrassment he put me through? Getting my silver back wouldn’t be enough. I wonder if he can still use his tools without one of his hands.”
Ban noticed they appeared to be only a little older than he was. Whatever they were discussing Ban knew trouble when he heard it and wanted no part of it. He got up and picked up his now washed clothing that had been drying. Then men stared daggers at him as if noticing him for the first time. He tried to ignore them and made his way out.
The bathhouse door creaked shut behind Ban as he stepped back into the chilly morning air. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for him to notice the two young men had followed him, a sinister glint in their eyes as they exchanged a look and quickened their pace to catch up with him.
Ban sensed trouble and increased his own pace, weaving through the waking city streets. The narrow alleyways, once comforting in their solitude, now felt like a labyrinth closing in on him. The distant sounds of the city were muted, and the footsteps of his pursuers echoed ominously.
Aware of their presence, Ban glanced over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions. The two men were closing in, their expressions growing darker with each step. Panic crept into Ban's chest as he considered his options. He had little money, no friends in this city, and now, he found himself being pursued by potentially violent individuals.
A quiet alley loomed ahead, its entrance concealed by the shadows of surrounding buildings. Ban hesitated for a moment, then made a split-second decision to dart into the alley, hoping to lose his pursuers in its twists and turns.
As he navigated the narrow passage, Ban's heartbeat thundered in his ears. The footsteps behind him quickened, and he knew he was being closely followed. The alley seemed to stretch endlessly, each turn leading to another dimly lit passage.
Ban's breath hitched as he realized the alley was a dead end. He glanced around, desperately searching for an escape route, but the towering walls offered no salvation. The two men, now grinning maliciously, closed in on him.
With a sinking feeling, Ban realised he was trapped.