The road to Leo City stretched like a thread through the tapestry of the kingdom, winding through rolling hills, sun-dappled valleys, and clusters of quiet farmsteads. For days, Julius rode in the rhythm of solitude, his only company the soft clip of Cricket’s hooves and the occasional rustle of wind in the grass. He should have felt at peace. Instead, a knot tightened in his chest with each mile closer to the capital.
The sprawling countryside began to shift, the wild edges of the kingdom giving way to signs of civilization. Neatly tended fields rolled into view, their crops swaying in perfect rows. Stone fences crisscrossed the land, marking boundaries where none had existed before. Villages dotted the horizon, their thatched roofs trailing smoke into the sky like timid signals. The air itself seemed to hum with change—busier, more hurried, as though the world itself leaned toward the city.
When Leo City’s spires finally breached the skyline, Julius pulled his horse to a stop. His breath caught in his throat. The city was vast, its sheer magnitude both thrilling and oppressive. Towering walls of seamless stone rose from the earth, their battlements cutting stark silhouettes against the sky. Above them, the spires stretched higher still, glinting like swords in the sunlight. Pennants of blue and gold fluttered from the towers, bearing the lion-and-laurel crest of Leona.
“Wow,” Julius muttered, a low whistle escaping his lips. He adjusted his grip on Cricket’s reins, his hazel eyes scanning the scene ahead. The city gates were enormous, their iron portcullis raised to allow a steady flow of people in and out. Guards, clad in gleaming armor, stood vigil at every post. Their positioning was flawless—every interval precise, no blind spots left uncovered.
Wide gates for heavy traffic. Guards stationed in intervals of five meters. Efficient chokepoints. No clear route for stealth.
The assessment rose unbidden in Julius’s mind, clear and cold, as though someone else were dictating his thoughts. He frowned, shaking his head as though to dislodge the voice. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it left him unsettled every time.
“Thanks for the tactical briefing,” he muttered under his breath, urging Cricket forward.
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The road leading to the gates was a living river of activity. Merchants with heavily laden carts shouted over the clatter of wheels, their voices a symphony of bartering and demands. Farmers herded flocks of sheep and goats, their animals bleating discordantly. Children darted between wagons, their laughter mingling with the sharp notes of a bard’s lute. Julius found himself pulled into the current, the sheer energy of the crowd both invigorating and suffocating.
As he neared the gates, the noise reached a crescendo. The guards moved through the throng with practiced efficiency, inspecting papers, questioning travelers, and directing traffic. Their armor, polished to a high sheen, reflected the midday sun, and their blue-and-gold surcoats made them stand out like living banners.
When Julius’s turn came, a guard stepped forward, raising a gauntleted hand. He was tall and broad, his helmet obscuring most of his face, but his voice carried a tone of authority tempered with boredom. “Name and purpose?”
Julius dismounted, his boots crunching against the gravel as he adjusted his travel-stained cloak. “Julius Johnson,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a disarming smile. “I’m here to enroll at the Knight Academy. I hear you’re looking for someone who excels at being average.”
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The guard’s gaze swept over him, lingering on his worn boots, patched tunic, and the sword strapped to his back. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “The Academy?” he repeated, disbelief heavy in his tone. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly,” Julius replied, matching the guard’s smirk. “Though if this is the welcoming committee, I might need to reconsider.”
The guard chuckled, though his amusement felt more like a predator sizing up its prey. “Look at you,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t exactly scream ‘knight material.’ Let me guess—some farmer’s boy with more guts than brains?”
Behind him, a few other guards laughed, their chuckles low and biting. Julius placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “A farmer? How dare you, sir. I’ll have you know I’m a practitioner of advanced chicken-chasing and hay-hauling. Very prestigious.”
The laughter died as the guard’s smirk hardened. He loomed over Julius now, his posture radiating authority. “The Academy’s no place for dreamers, boy. It’s for warriors. You’ve got neither the skill nor the bloodline.”
Something dark stirred within Julius. His fingers tightened on Cricket’s reins as a whisper slithered through his mind. He’s unarmored at the throat. A sharp thrust upward would silence him.
Julius forced himself to relax, pushing the intrusive thought aside. Instead, he tilted his head thoughtfully, his tone light. “Tell me—how well does bloodline work against a sharp object? Asking for a friend.”
The guard’s jaw tightened, his amusement gone. It seemed, for a moment, that he might escalate things further, but another voice cut through the tension.
“That’s enough, Grell.”
An older guard stepped forward, his lined face weathered but calm. His tone carried the quiet authority of someone who had seen too much to be impressed by petty displays of power. “The boy’s no threat to the city.”
Grell hesitated, then stepped back with a muttered curse. The older guard turned to Julius, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “You’ll find the Academy in the upper district. Gates close at sundown. Don’t waste time.”
Julius inclined his head, his voice thick with exaggerated politeness. “Thank you, good sir. I’ll be sure to mention your glowing hospitality in my memoirs.”
With that, he led Cricket through the gates, ignoring the lingering chuckles behind him. His smirk was a mask for the irritation simmering beneath the surface.
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Inside the city, the chaos of the gates gave way to a whirlwind of sights and sounds. The cobbled streets twisted in a labyrinth of bustling marketplaces, towering buildings, and alleys that seemed to stretch into shadowy infinity. Vendors shouted over one another, performers juggled knives to the delight of children, and the scent of roasted meat mingled with the stench of sewage.
Julius guided Cricket through the crowds, his eyes darting from sight to sight. It was overwhelming, the sheer scale of it all—so much life packed into so little space.
“Beautiful and exhausting,” he muttered. “That’s Leo City, I guess.”
Yet beneath the city’s vibrant energy, Julius saw cracks. Beggars huddled in alleyways, their eyes hollow and pleading. Pickpockets flitted through the throng like shadows, their hands quick and practiced. Even the merchants’ voices carried an edge of desperation, their smiles tight and weary.
You’ll need to be sharper here, the voice whispered again, cool and clinical. The shadows aren’t empty.
Julius shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Noted. Thanks for the motivational speech.”
Ahead, the road split. One path wound upward toward the elegant spires of the upper district, where his future lay waiting. The other descended into the tangled depths of the lower city, its noise and shadows tugging at his curiosity.
“Focus,” he told himself, steering Cricket toward the upper road. “Academy first. Then I can worry about the rest.”
As the noise of the lower city faded behind him, Julius straightened his back. The spires loomed closer, their grandeur promising trials that would test more than his skill with a blade.
“Time to see if I’ve got what it takes,” he murmured, determination and uncertainty warring in his voice.
With that, he pressed onward, letting Leo City swallow him whole.