Chapter 96: The Town

Abel strolled down the bustling streets of Reinhart, his eyes wide with curiosity. The air smelled of fresh bread and blooming flowers, mingling with the distant scent of freshly cut wood. For those with allergies to pollen, this place would be quite the problem as the town's relationship with flowers seemed to be historic. It was a lively, organized town—far larger and more sophisticated than Duskton, his home village. He marveled at how much the town seemed to be growing, stretching beyond anything that those who first found this land imagined.

As he walked, the sound of his boots clicking against the cobblestone road echoed through the air. The streets here were well-maintained, the stones polished and laid out meticulously. He found himself on First Street, the largest and widest of the village’s thoroughfares. Its sheer size was impressive—wide enough for four caravans to travel side by side, and framed by tall, elegant homes with gated courtyards. The houses along this street were a far cry from the modest structures in Duskton; they were grand, each one adorned with intricate designs on the gates, carved stone walls, and flourishing gardens.

Abel couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. The homes exuded wealth, and the air carried a sense of exclusivity and superiority. Guards stood in front of several gates, their sharp eyes scanning the streets. They wore light armor that depicted different insignias and on their hip hung a sheathed knife. Weapons weren't illegal to carry, however, unsheathing one required a justification. Otherwise, pulling out a weapon could deemed a crime in Reinhart, and the individual would be handled by the Enforcement Officers. Even so, the town was welcoming in its own way, with shopkeepers calling out to passersby and customers milling about in the markets.

He stayed on the side of the street facing the huge mansions, walking past the shops that lined First Street: jewelers, tailors, and various antique stores that displayed their finest goods in glittering windows. The prices ranged from one thousand coins to ten thousand coins, which felt pricey but Abel understood that those living across the street saw no issue with the pricing. He paused for a moment outside a jeweler's, where ornate necklaces and rings sparkled under the sunlight. Abel chuckled to himself, wondering if the Tower would ever let him indulge in such luxuries.

As he continued down the street, Abel noticed that the village had grown in a purposeful design from the street placements to their names. First and Fifth Streets were the largest and on opposite sides of the town, while smaller roads connected them vertically, dividing the town into neat blocks. He turned onto Oak Street, one of the smaller roads leading away from First Street.

Oak Street was lined with family-run businesses, and the atmosphere was immediately different—more intimate, and less polished than First Street. He passed a butcher shop where the scent of fresh meat wafted into the air, the butcher wiping his hands on a stained apron while chatting with a customer. Nearby, a tailor worked diligently on a new garment in the window of her shop, her needle moving with quick precision. The whole street buzzed with activity, people coming and going, chatting, laughing, and making deals. A real community vibe exuded from Oak Street, from First and Oak Street to Second and Oak Stree, all the way down to Fifth and Oak. The smaller streets referred to as "side streets" stretched perpendicular to First and Fifth St, but a fraction of the size. Second, Third, and Fourth stretched across the town. Walking down Oak Street he would look down these side streets but they weren't as eventful, with people using them to reach the main streets faster.

Next, after reaching Fith and Oak St, Abel turned down Chestnut St. The homes were more modest, but the sense of community was palpable even more so than Oak St. Children ran down the cobblestone paths, laughing and playing games, their carefree joy contagious. As Abel passed some of the people standing outside of their doors, they would nod to him with friendly smiles. Abel watched as a small caravan trundled by, its driver waving to a family who stood outside their home, the smell of stew wafting from their open windows. Chestnut Street felt warm, alive with the rhythms of family life. As he walked Abel didn't even notice a warm smile on his face, as it felt natural to him walking down Chestnut St.

He continued, making his way to Chestnut and First St, welcomed by the extravagant homes once again, He proceeded to turn over the corner to Walnut Street, the center of Reinhart’s market district. Here, the air was filled with the sounds of haggling merchants, shouting out the prices of their wares. Abel could hear the clinking of coins and the rustling of sacks as townsfolk purchased goods.

"Come get your Pink Flowers! The dance is not too far away!" A voice came from the side as a man raised a fist full of pink flowers.

"Gray Rice going out fast, only three bags remaining!" A woman yelled.

People rushed about, some carrying baskets of vegetables or bags of grain, while others crowded around stalls selling exotic spices, leather goods, flowers, and finely crafted tools. The prices here were much more sensible as items varied from one to one hundred coins. The people selling and buying here were modest and honest folk, as the men wore cotton shirts in earthly colors, mostly olive and brown, while women wore blouses. One thing that Abel noticed was the detail many of their clothing possessed as flowers and plant-like patterns were sewn in various parts of their clothing, as it flapped in the wind due to their quick movements through the market. It was organized chaos, but there was a charm to it, a sense of a thriving community.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Next, Abel found himself on Pine Street, where essential services like the town’s medical building, the enforcement office, and the school were located. The buildings here seemed to be the tallest in the town as the smallest one was at least two stories high The library, which sat proudly at the far end of Pine Street near Fifth Street, caught his eye. Modest yet beautiful, the building was made of smooth, light stone with ivy creeping up its walls. The arched windows gave it an almost serene, timeless look, and the large wooden doors were polished to a gleam. Abel made a mental note to visit soon—he would need to familiarize himself with this place, after all.

Caravans passed through the cobblestone streets here frequently, although less frequently than First and Fifth St. People who walked on the sidewalks of these streets didn't talk much as they had a purpose in each step heading to a building in Pine St. The Town Hall where the mayor stayed was crafted from the town’s own stone and brick, it presented a sturdy yet inviting presence in the heart of the village. Its symmetrical structure and broad, arching entrance convey a welcoming formality. The exterior features a garden flourishing with native flowers, symbolizing the town’s deep-rooted pride and tradition.

Another building stood out to Abel; the Reinhart Enforcement Office was a no-nonsense structure that commanded respect without excessive grandeur. Constructed from gray stone and fortified wood, its facade looked sturdy, with thick walls and high, narrow windows designed for both practicality and security. If Chestnut St, gave Abel the feeling of community, Pine St gave off a serious, more purposeful vibe.

Finally, Abel turned onto Maple Street, which carried a livelier, almost bohemian energy he hadn’t yet felt in Reinhart. He stopped to watch the unusual scene unfold around him. Unlike the quiet, orderly street he’d just walked through, this one had buildings that expanded along the cobblestone paths, each filled with homes called "apartments." Abel overheard a young man passing by, speaking with his friend in an excited tone.

"Meet you back at the apartment?" he asked with a grin.

"Yeah," the friend replied, adjusting his hat. "Gotta drop off my stuff. Then let’s grab something to eat."

Abel took in the sight of the bustling crowd—mostly younger people, chatting and laughing as they moved in and out of the buildings. They wore bright, colorful outfits, each person’s hat seeming to reflect a different style. Abel noted how everyone sported these hats, with wide brims, feathers, ribbons, or even curious fabrics. A small group of friends emerged from an apartment doorway, their laughter ringing out as they started down the street.

“Let’s try that new place on Second Street!” one of them suggested, pointing down the way.

The aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, mingling with the cheerful sounds of clinking glasses and lively chatter from nearby eateries. Abel watched them head toward a bustling restaurant, intrigued by the lively scene and by how different this corner of Reinhart felt from anywhere he’d seen so far.

The apartments fascinated him. Why would people choose to live so close to one another like this? It was a far cry from the open spaces and quiet solitude of Duskton. But here, it seemed to be the norm—young professionals, families, and even some older residents choosing this bustling, close-knit life. Abel couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live in such a place, surrounded by so many people every day.

By the time he reached Fifth Street, he had a much clearer picture of Reinhart. Fifth Street was just as wide as First, but on this side of the village, there was much more construction. New homes and buildings were being built or recently done, their foundations freshly laid, and workers bustled about, hammering nails and carrying lumber. The expansion of Reinhart was obvious, with streets like Third and Maple being extended as new roads branched off. It was clear that Reinhart was growing, and fast.

Abel headed toward Pine Street, where the mayor’s office was located. As he approached the large stone building at the corner of Pine and Third, two guards stood at the entrance. Their uniforms were well-kept, and they watched Abel carefully as he approached.

"Halt," one of them said, stepping forward. "State your business."

"Abel Noria," Abel replied confidently, "I’m here to meet with Mayor Elliot."

The guards exchanged glances, their eyes widening slightly at the mention of his name. "Ah, my apologies, young master Noria," one of them said quickly, stepping aside. "We were told to expect you. Please, follow me."

Abel nodded and followed the guard into the building, the stone halls echoing with their footsteps. The air inside was cool, and the scent of freshly polished wood lingered in the air. The mayor’s office was grand, with high ceilings and large windows that let in the warm afternoon light. Abel couldn’t help but feel a sense of importance as he was led toward the mayor’s door.

The guard knocked, and a deep voice called out from inside. "Enter."

Abel stepped into the room and was greeted by the sight of Mayor Elliot, a tall man with graying hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. He wore fine robes and stood behind a large oak desk, flanked by maps of Reinhart and the surrounding region.

"Ah, Abel Noria," the mayor said with a smile, stepping forward to shake his hand. "Welcome to Reinhart. We’ve been expecting you.