Before heading to the city's South Gate, Ale made a detour to "IronHearth Forge," a renowned forge in the heart of the slums. Even though he needed to reserve 240 lunaris for his journey to Devalin, with the 200 lunaris (2 gold coins) he had earned from his service at the castle and the 100 lunaris advanced to him by the slum’s inventor, he still had a margin of 70 lunaris left. Enough to buy a basic sword, though purchasing leather armor would still have to wait.
As he crossed the threshold of the forge, Ale was immediately hit by a suffocating heat, as if the air itself was infused with molten metal. The acrid smell of soot and heated iron saturated the atmosphere, creating an almost tangible aura around the shop. The space, about fifty square meters, seemed both chaotic and organized, with each object in its place despite the apparent disorder.
Mannequins stood proudly on either side, showcasing a range of armor: finely woven chainmail, sturdy leather cuirasses, and lightweight armor perfectly designed for those who prioritized agility on the battlefield. Further in, sets of heavy metal armor stood imposing and majestic, offering the ultimate defense for warriors willing to sacrifice speed for protection.
The walls were adorned with weapons of all kinds: long swords with razor-sharp blades, spears with pointed tips, war hammers with intricately engraved handles, and even spiked whips with heavy chains. On the shelves, raw minerals shared space with partially completed armor and a few mysterious enchanted objects, shimmering with a subtle glow. The workshop seemed saturated with pieces in progress, every corner utilized to maximize the space’s efficiency.
At the back of the shop was the forge itself, where dwarves, clad in reinforced leather aprons, worked with unwavering focus, their precise movements accompanied by the rhythmic clanging of hammers striking iron. The constant sound of metal reverberated through the workshop, creating a raw and powerful mechanical symphony that breathed life into the place. The heat from a magical brazier was unbearable for anyone not accustomed to it, but the dwarves seemed entirely unbothered. This brazier, powered by enchanted stones, contained a fire of mysterious origin and served as the forge’s nerve center. It was here that the most delicate pieces took shape, combining the raw strength of the blacksmiths with intricate magical enchantments.
At the far end of the workshop, a dwarf with a powerful build, his chest covered in soot and sweat, looked up at Ale. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, and his brown beard was as robust as his stature. With a mischievous grin and a deep but friendly voice, he called out, "Looking for something in particular, kid?"
Ale, still a bit intimidated by the impressive atmosphere of the forge, offered a slight smile before replying, "Yes, I’m looking for a basic sword."
The dwarf nodded with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with a hint of professional pride. "You’ve come to the right place, then. Our weapons are the best you’ll find in all of Eldoria. The basic swords, they’re all in that barrel near the counter." He pointed to a large wooden barrel filled with swords, each one perfectly balanced despite their apparent simplicity.
Ale approached the barrel, examining the swords with a keen eye, appreciating the craftsmanship even in these modest weapons. Each blade had a refined finish, and the weight seemed well-balanced, perfect for a beginner or a warrior looking for a reliable weapon without too many embellishments.
He picked up a simple yet sturdy sword, hefting it for a moment to test its balance. The blade glinted faintly under the flickering light of the brazier, and despite its apparent simplicity, he could feel the quality of the dwarven craftsmanship in every inch of the metal. Satisfied with his choice, he headed to the counter and placed 20 lunaris on the polished wood, the coins clinking softly as they collided.
The dwarf behind the counter gave a nod of approval, swiftly collecting the money with a quick hand before running an oiled cloth over the blade to remove any lingering fingerprints. "A good choice, kid, she won’t fail you in a fight," he said confidently.
Ale nodded in thanks, tightening his grip on the sword before securing it to his belt. Without wasting another moment, he left the forge and resumed his journey towards the barony.
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The city of Eldoria, vast and meticulously organized, opens to the Empire through its four main gates. The northern gate, imposing and fortified, silently oversees the private movements of the Montclair family and royal affairs. Seldom used by the general populace, it remains the preferred passage for imperial delegations and secret convoys, shielded from prying eyes by its watchtowers and sturdy ramparts.
The other three gates, more accessible, form the true economic heart of the city. At the entrance to each, a stable of the Guild of Messengers stands ready to meet the city's transport and communication needs. Among them, the southern gate stands out with its constant activity. It serves as a vital meeting point for travelers, adventurers, and merchants, creating a bustling hive of human exchange and negotiation beneath the city's imposing walls.
Ale arrived at the southern gate and immediately felt the vibrant energy that filled the place. Here, the voices of merchants, the laughter of adventurers, and the whinnying of horses created a familiar symphony of sounds. It was a true crossroads where those setting off in search of glory met those returning with their tales and treasures.
The Guild of Messengers' stable, proudly positioned near the southern gate, drew attention with its commanding architecture. A giant sign adorned the entrance, bearing the inscription "Guild of Messengers Stables – SOUTH" in golden letters. At its center, the guild's emblem — a winged carriage — gleamed in the daylight, its golden outlines glowing with a magical aura, symbolizing the promise of speed and reliability.
Ale stepped through the building's doors and found himself in a spacious reception hall, where every detail exuded efficiency. In front of him stretched a long counter, extending the full length of the room, its polished wood contrasting with the bustling activity around it. Above, a horizontal board displayed the guild’s services and rates, clearly listing the available options for the hurried clients and the impatient adventurers:
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+---------------------------------------------------|
| MESSENGER GUILD
| SERVICES AND RATES PER KILOMETER
+---------------------------------------------------
| Standard Carriage
|---------------------------------------------------|
| Capacity: 8-10 people
| Speed: 20-30 km/day
| Rate: 2 lunaris / 10 km / person
+---------------------------------------------------
| Express Carriage
|---------------------------------------------------|
| Capacity: 8-10 people
| Speed: Up to 50 km/h
| Rate: 10 lunaris / 10 km / person
+---------------------------------------------------|
| Private Carriage
|---------------------------------------------------|
| Capacity: 2-4 people
| Speed: Up to 50 km/h
| Rate: 30 lunaris / 10 km / carriage
+---------------------------------------------------+
Ale carefully read the board, quickly doing the math in his head. The distance between Eldoria and the barony of Devalin was 120 kilometers, which meant it would cost him 120 lunaris for an express carriage. Just a few days ago, such an amount would have seemed impossible for him, but now, time was of the essence, and he had no other choice.
He made his way to one of the counters, where a queue had already formed. When his turn finally came, Ale handed over the 120 lunaris he had prepared in advance. The clerk, dressed in a yellow uniform bearing the guild's emblem, handed him a ticket stamped with a red mark indicating the time of purchase: "9:14." Without looking up, the clerk said in a businesslike tone, "Proceed through the door behind you and head to the express carriage waiting area. You’ll be called according to the color of your ticket. Your color code is red."
Then, without missing a beat, the clerk turned to the next person in line, announcing, "Next."
Ale slipped the ticket into his pocket and made his way down a long corridor that led to the rear courtyard. Through the corridor's windows, he could see a sprawling yard where dozens of carriages were lined up, ready for departure. The guild's staff, clad in their yellow uniforms, bustled around the vehicles, tending to the creatures, cleaning the wagons, and meticulously inspecting the carriages to ensure they were in perfect condition for the next journey.
He was captivated by the variety of creatures present. Besides the sturdy horses used for standard trips, he spotted the Plains Hippogriffs, their folded wings and sleek bodies hinting at their incredible speed and endurance. These creatures were reserved for express routes, where swiftness was crucial. There were also Aurochyths, massive beasts resembling giant buffalo with enormous horns, capable of hauling loads twice as heavy as the ordinary carriages.
Eventually, Ale reached a large room divided into three distinct sections, each separated by rows of benches and marked with signs hanging from the ceiling that read [Standard], [Express], and [Private]. He made his way to the section designated for express carriages and found an empty spot on one of the wooden benches. The room, well-lit by hanging lanterns, was relatively lively, filled with travelers of all kinds.
Some of the travelers present were merchants, draped in rich, vibrant fabrics, surrounded by their chests and crates overflowing with goods ready for trade. Their imposing presence commanded respect, and their animated discussions seemed to revolve around profits and new trade routes. Other travelers presented a stark contrast: adventurers, easily recognizable by their battle-worn armor and weapons kept carefully within reach, always ready for the unexpected. Families were also present, gathered together for a shared journey, with children running and laughing around the stacks of luggage, their cheerful voices standing in contrast to the tense and worried faces of their parents.
The large wooden doors of the waiting rooms opened directly onto the cobbled street, revealing the carriages stationed just outside. A sturdy wooden barrier separated the crowd from these doors, a device meant to control boarding when the time came. Ale stood there, arms crossed, watching this lively scene with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Although he often traveled on foot with his grandfather to save their precious coins, this was the first time he would be boarding an express carriage.
Ale started doing mental calculations, murmuring to himself, his lips barely moving. "120 lunaris for the trip there, and another 120 for the return... This journey will cost me 240 lunaris," he muttered, a worried look crossing his face. "With all the recent expenses, I’ll be left with only 56 lunaris. Maybe I should consider taking a standard carriage for the return..." He let out a slight sigh, shaking his head at the financial reality. "The more you earn, the more you spend," he thought, a hint of a bitter smile tugging at his lips as the harsh truth of his dwindling savings sank in.
A loud shout suddenly broke his concentration. A guild employee, dressed in the distinctive yellow uniform, approached while calling out instructions, closely followed by another in identical attire. Behind them, a carriage gradually came into view through the wide-open doors, its wheels creaking slightly on the cobblestones. With mechanical precision, the employees raised the wooden barrier, granting access to the boarding area. The time for departure was nearing, and the buzz among the travelers intensified as they all prepared to board, eager to continue on their journey.
"The passengers with red tickets, please step forward!" called out one of the employees in a clear and commanding voice, cutting through the surrounding clamor. Ale, jolted from his thoughts, quickly straightened and joined the line that was already forming at the entrance to the carriage. He handed his red ticket to the attendant, who carefully tore off a corner before gesturing for him to enter, validating his passage.
Before him stood the Guild of Messengers’ carriage, both sturdy and efficient, drawn by Plains Hippogriffs. These majestic creatures, part horse and part eagle, bore powerful and imposing wings. Their proud stance and commanding presence radiated a quiet strength, as if they were just waiting for the signal to soar and devour the miles that lay ahead on their journey.
The carriage itself seemed built to withstand the harshest of journeys. Its thick wooden panels, reinforced with metal plates at the joints, spoke of its unyielding durability. The wheels, though appearing ordinary, were actually imbued with subtle enchantments that enhanced both speed and stability, even on the roughest roads. The roof of the vehicle, though slightly weathered from exposure, provided reliable protection against rain and sun. A few golden accents along the carriage's body discreetly hinted at the guild's prestige. On its sides, the iconic emblem of a winged carriage seemed to gleam under the daylight.
Seated at the front, the coachman observed Ale with a keen eye. Clad in the guild's signature yellow uniform, his sturdy tunic was reinforced with leather at the shoulders and arms—a necessary protection for long journeys. His cap, adorned with the guild's emblem, cast a slight shadow over his eyes, shielding him from the sun while adding to his professional demeanor. The coachman gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, a simple yet effective gesture, indicating that he was already focused on the final preparations for departure.