Chapter 7: Sanderson City

The sun blazed high above as our carriage rolled up to Sanderson City's stone gate. Towering spires framed the sturdy walls, and the arched entrance hummed with activity. People on horseback, traders with carts, and carriages like ours jostled to enter. Guards exchanged nods with Oren and Vlad, recognizing them instantly, and waved us through with little scrutiny.

Inside, the city burst to life. Cobblestone streets replaced the dusty roads of the countryside, and rows of houses with sloped, colorful roofs gleamed in the sunlight. The air was thick with the aroma of baked bread and the metallic tang of a blacksmith's forge, mingling with the cries of merchants hawking their wares. Stalls overflowed with goods—fruits, vegetables, silk, and weapons—while vibrant banners flapped overhead.

Our carriage wound through the bustling streets, finally stopping at a two-storey inn near the market square. Its half-timbered design and sloped roof felt inviting, a quiet refuge from the city’s chaos. Oren stepped inside to negotiate with the innkeeper, a middle-aged woman whose warm smile seemed to reflect the charm of the place. Moments later, he returned with a key in hand.

"This way," he said, leading us upstairs.

The room wasn’t spacious, but it was clean and practical, with enough beds for all of us. Though cramped, it was a relief to have a place to rest after the long journey.

After setting our belongings down, Oren turned to us. “I’ll be heading out with Vlad to talk to some merchants. We need to sort out the supplies we’ll bring back to the village.”

One of our companions chimed in, “We’re planning to visit some relatives and friends who live here. It’s been a while since we’ve seen them.”

Oren glanced at Ron and me. “What about you two? Any plans to head out?”

Ron stretched and shook his head. “I’m not in the mood to go anywhere. I’ll just stay here and rest.”

“I think I’ll take a walk,” I said, already curious about exploring the town.

“Alright,” Oren said with a nod. “Just make sure you’re back before dinner. We’ll discuss tomorrow’s plans then.”

“Got it,” I replied, feeling a sense of anticipation as I thought about what the town might have to offer.

Caelan stepped into the bustling street, his boots crunching softly against the uneven cobblestones. The market buzzed with life—merchants called out their wares, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the earthy scent of leather and iron. Wooden stalls lined the road, their tables laden with colorful fabrics, dried herbs, and polished trinkets.

His gaze, however, was drawn beyond the commotion. Looming over the town, a castle rose like a sentinel, its stone towers piercing the blue sky. Sunlight danced off its high walls, highlighting the contrast between the grandeur of its architecture and the humble, timber-framed buildings of the town below.

As Caelan wandered through the market, he took in the sights and smells. To his left, a plump vendor cheerfully extolled the quality of his colorful fruits and vegetables. Next to him, a bakery displayed golden-brown bread, its warm aroma mixing with the salty tang of cured meats from a neighboring shop. On his right, a woman sold handwoven baskets and vibrant fabrics, while further ahead, a blacksmith’s apprentice polished tools with soot-covered hands.

The bustling energy filled the streets, yet something unusual caught Caelan’s attention. In the midst of the crowd, a stocky figure stood still, observing its surroundings. Caelan froze. The being was unlike anything he’d seen—short, broad-shouldered, with arms like tree trunks and a beard that exuded pride and maturity. Resting on its back was a massive hammer that seemed too heavy for its size, yet perfectly suited to its powerful build.

A dwarf. Caelan stared in awe. He’d only read about them in myths, and yet here it was, as real as the cobblestones beneath his feet. Strangely, no one else seemed to pay it any mind, as if its presence was ordinary in this world.

Why didn’t anyone tell me dwarves were real? he thought, his heart racing. Then he froze again. Of course, no one here knew where he came from—or what he didn’t know.

When Caelan entered the inn room, he found Ron and Vlad in the middle of a conversation. They stopped talking the moment they saw him.

“Caelan, how was your stroll?” Vlad asked, sitting cross-legged on his bed. The room was small but cozy, with each of them having a bed pushed up against the walls. A faint evening breeze wafted through the open window, carrying the distant hum of the bustling market.

Caelan sat on his bed, leaning back against the wooden frame. “It was fine. I saw a lot of interesting things. How about you and Oren? Didn’t you go outside to talk to some merchant?” he asked thoughtfully, kicking off his boots.

"It went well," Vlad said with a small shrug. "I came back first because Oren ran into someone he knows. They seemed busy talking, so I left them to it."

Ron, lounging on his bed with his arms behind his head, glanced over. “You should buy whatever you’ll need before we head back to the village,” he suggested casually.

Caelan hesitated, his mind lingering on the strange sight he’d encountered earlier. “I saw someone small, with a broad build, carrying a massive hammer,” he said, searching for the right words. “I don’t know what they’re called in your language.”

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Vlad chuckled, sitting up straighter. “Ah, that’s a dwarf. Surprised you haven’t seen one before. They’re rare in these parts, but you’ll find more of them in Liras City. Maybe Baron Sanderson hired this one.”

Ron shifted to sit cross-legged, nodding. “That makes sense. The baron might need a dwarf for crafting weapons or armor. Or maybe there’s something in the castle that needs fixing. Dwarves are unmatched in smithing and craftsmanship.”

Vlad studied Caelan curiously. “Is this really your first time seeing a dwarf? You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you walked in.”

Caelan nodded, his expression puzzled. “Yeah. There aren’t any dwarves where I come from.”

Vlad raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That explains it. Dwarves are rare in human territories, except for Liras City. Even there, they’re uncommon. Humans dominate most of the continent, after all.”

Ron smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If you were shocked by a dwarf, imagine what you’d do if you saw an elf.”

Caelan’s eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. “Elves? You mean they’re real too?”

“Of course!” Ron said, his tone brimming with excitement. “Elves are stunning, Caelan. They’re my dream. Imagine marrying one! Not only are they beautiful, but they also live for over two hundred years. Just think about it—spending a lifetime with someone so graceful.” He sighed wistfully, clearly lost in his imagination.

Vlad rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. “Don’t get your hopes up, Ron. Elves rarely marry humans. Their standards are impossibly high. And if you’re thinking about buying one from the slave market, even the cheapest would cost you fifty gold coins.”

Caelan’s face darkened, his shoulders stiffening. “Slave market?” he asked sharply, his voice tense with unease.

Ron glanced at him, surprised. “You don’t know about the slave market?”

Vlad sighed, his expression growing serious. “Slavery is everywhere on the Yedon continent, Caelan. Prisoners of war, knights, even nobles from fallen kingdoms—anyone can end up as a slave. Some families sell their children because they can’t afford to feed them. Kidnapping is illegal, but if a noble allows it, no one stops it.”

Caelan frowned deeply, his fists clenching. “That’s… horrible. How can anyone live like this?”

Ron’s tone softened as he tried to ease the tension. “It’s not all bad, Caelan. The world has its dark parts, sure, but it’s full of wonder too. Take dwarves, for example. They’re not just craftsmen; they love trade and are always sharing their skills. They’re closer to humans than you’d think. And elves—they’re rare but unforgettable.”

Vlad nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “There are Amazons too—female warriors with dark, tan skin. They’re fierce and prefer strong men, but the rarest race is the beastkin. Beastkin have tails and ears like the animals they resemble—wolves, foxes, lions, and cats. They’re incredibly strong and agile, with traits unique to their tribes. Like the elves, they live in remote forests at the edge of the continent.”

Ron grinned, leaning forward. “They’re also prime targets for slave traders because they’re so valuable. But good luck capturing one—they’re insanely fast and strong. They’re perfect warriors.”

Vlad’s tone turned wistful. “And then there are the fairies. They’re tiny humans with wings, but they vanished over two centuries ago. No one’s seen one since.”

Caelan sat silently, his mind racing with everything they’d shared. This world was vast and filled with marvels—but behind its beauty lurked a cruel reality.

At night, I couldn't sleep, overwhelmed by all the information I had learned that day. It was too much, and this world seemed even crueler than I had imagined.

The next morning, I awoke to the soft creaking of the floorboards. A line of beds came into view as I blinked the sleep from my eyes. Outside, the sound of a carriage rolling down the street reached my ears. Ron stepped out of the small bathroom.

"Caelan, you're awake!" he grinned. "The others are already downstairs having breakfast. Some are organizing the products we're selling. Hurry, we need to leave soon."

I nodded, getting up and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

After a simple breakfast of bread, eggs, and warm tea, our group gathered and prepared to head to our next destination: the trading guild.

The trading guild is a large, busy hall where merchants and staff manage trade. Sunlight streams through stained-glass windows, illuminating goods and papers on wooden tables. The guild master oversees everything, while the upper balcony hosts private meetings. It’s a lively hub of commerce.

The noise of trade filled the air, with voices and footsteps echoing across the stone floors.

Oren approached one of the guild's representatives, an elderly man with graying hair and a sharp appearance, who gave a quick nod of acknowledgment.

"Wait here," the man said before calling out to an assistant. "Go check the goods from Mitra Village outside." The assistant quickly nodded and hurried outside where the shipment was stacked.

Oren watched as the assistant went outside, and the minutes seemed to stretch on in silence. When the assistant returned, his expression was more surprised than before. "The volume of your goods is impressive—much more than last time. They brought three carriages this time. The number of sacks of potatoes is double, and so is the number of spices and fruits," he reported, eyeing the shipment with suspicion. He squinted and double-checked the quantity.

The elderly man, still with his serious expression, slowly nodded in acknowledgment. "It is certainly more than the last shipment," he said, his voice tinged with surprise as he examined the figures. "The level of your village has truly risen."

Oren couldn’t help but smile, though he tried to hide it. "Yes, our village got lucky. The harvest was better than we expected, and we gathered more than we thought."

"Well done. You can be assured that your village's hard work will reach the Baron and you’ll be rewarded," said the guild’s steward.

Oren nodded, his pride swelling a little. "Thank you. We'll work even harder."

The elderly man gave Oren a brief glance before turning to make a note on his clipboard, signaling that the conversation was nearing its end.

The transaction went smoothly, and soon enough, five gold coins were handed over to Oren . I marveled at the simplicity of the currency here—gold, silver, and copper coins. One gold coin was worth thirty silver pieces, and fifty copper coins made up a single gold coin.

With the transaction complete, our business in Sanderson was done, and soon enough, we were on our way back to the village. The bustling city slowly faded behind us as the road stretched ahead, leading us back to familiar ground.