Valen practically jumped out of his skin, fear striking like a hot iron to his stomach.

The downstrokes of the dragons sent gusts of wind blasting into the streets, and although most of their strength died out before reaching anyone, Valen still felt his clothes whip about for a moment before the riders had moved on. His pulse now racing, he was very glad to see that not many other people in the crowd around him seemed pleased to see the riders, either, though none of them seemed quite as afraid as he did.

Keeping that in mind, and doing his best to fight back the terror that had hit him, Valen forged on. Heading further and further into the city, he made sure to keep to the same wide road that he had followed from the docks. He couldn't afford to get lost. After all, it would only slow down his job here even more, an unpleasant distraction that he had to avoid.

After walking for about twenty minutes or so, Valen realized that the street was not going to end any time soon; if he remembered correctly, the Twin Lakes were maybe twenty miles apart, possibly more, and Lakevale stretched all the way between them, and outwards as well, to their very edges.

Seeing as he was working with a limited amount of time, he decided that the only way he could do this quickly enough was if he were to ask someone for help. The issue was that he was not sure what to actually ask. In a city this large, not many people would know the Romaris by name. Any question he asked would have to be more general in nature. Thinking it through, he realized that he only had one question that made sense to ask.

Matthew Romari was a skilled leatherworker; he had taken care of a wide variety of craftsmen’s duties around the hatchery when he and his family had been living there, but his best work had always been with leather. That meant, if there was a specific part of the city where most of the craftsmen plied their trade, that would be the best place to look.

Looking around to try and find someone who seemed friendly enough that they would answer him and who did not seem to be in a hurry, Valen finally saw a kindly looking older woman sitting in a rickety chair on the porch of a tavern. Putting on his best smile, and trying not to look too confused or worried, Valen crossed the street to the steps of the building.

“Ma’am?” he called, and almost immediately the woman’s attention settled on him. One brow raised and a crooked smile splitting her face, she leaned forward as she answered.

“Yes, boy?” Seeing as she seemed not to mind that he had spoken to her, Valen let himself sigh in relief before he continued.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s my first time here in the city and I’m a bit lost. Is there a part of the city where I could find some craftsmen?” he asked, and as he finished speaking the woman leaned back in her old chair, still smiling.

“Well, child, there are many craftspeople all over Lakevale. But, if you’re wanting to know where most of them are, you’ll want to try the Bishop District. It’s further North from here, and a bit closer to Westlake. You see that big tower there, sticking up over all the other buildings?” At this the woman paused, extending a hand off to the side to point out the building she was talking about. It was not hard to spot, once she pointed out it out. It was by far the tallest building within sight, a large stone tower with a roof of dark blue, a different banner hanging from the top of each of its faces.

“I see it,” Valen replied, once he had it in his sight.

“Good. That there is Bishop Tower. If you just walk towards that, you’ll get where you’re wanting to go,” the woman finished. Grinning, he turned back and nodded to her.

“Thank you so much for your help,” Valen told her, taking a step back and preparing to turn and be on his way.

“It was my pleasure, child,” she replied, before leaning back in her chair again and turning to watch the people passing by once more. So Valen went on his way, this time making sure to keep the Bishop Tower in his line of sight. Using that as a landmark, it was suddenly much easier for him to make his way through the city. Luckily, the large street he had been following so far still continued on a good distance in the direction he needed to go.

Eventually, however, it started to veer South instead of North, and he was forced to turn off onto a slightly smaller road that continued in the general direction he needed to go. He continued this pattern of slowly splitting off onto smaller and smaller streets, and at one point passed through an area of the city where the only people he saw looked to be either patrolling guards or gaunt men and women who stared at Valen like he was a piece of meat waiting to be pounced on.

He was very grateful for the presence of the soldiers there as he passed through.

It was not long before he turned onto a slightly larger street again, and a reverse of the previous process began as he crossed larger and larger streets, until he stepped out into a large, central road that seemed to head straight to Bishop Tower.

Sighing in relief, Valen followed that road all the way to a large, open courtyard where it looked like hundreds of vendors had set up stalls, creating a sort of bazaar around the tower at the courtyard’s center. Looking around, the wide assortment of smells that carried through the air, the many colors that seemed to burst into existence all around, and the sheer noise of such a busy area of the city once more threatened to overwhelm him.

Luckily – or unluckily, perhaps – at this point Valen was so exhausted from constantly walking through the confusing city streets with his pack over his shoulders that his tiredness almost seemed to act as a buffer, keeping his headache from returning and his senses from being too overstimulated.

He allowed himself a few seconds to take it all in, then began the long process that would likely take up the rest of his day.

Rolling his shoulders to relieve some of their tension, Valen turned and headed to a building at the very edge of the bazaar, what looked to be an inn of some kind. The three men standing outside laughing about some joke were the first people he asked about the Romaris.

But they certainly were not the last.

----------

By the time night had begun to fall, Valen still had not had any luck.

Either people simply did not know who the Romaris were, or they did not want to tell him where they were. Regardless of the why, he was left wandering around the fringe of the bazaar as darkness began to settle in. If Valen was not able to find them soon, he would be forced to find an inn for the night, though he hoped that he would not have to spend too much money since he wasn't sure when he and Hera might have an opportunity to make more.

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As it turned out, however, he had other things to worry about.

“You lookin’ for the Romaris?” a voice suddenly whispered into his ear, just loud enough for Valen and Valen alone to hear. Relief began to flood through him, until he felt the tip of a blade pressed into the small of his back and his eyes widened.

“W-“

“Quiet now. You cry out, try and call for the guards or even just get the attention of anyone else, you’ll be dead before the first word leaves your mouth. Move,” the voice cut in, before the guy who was speaking – he could tell it was a man, at least – prodded him onwards, resting a hand on his shoulder to guide him over to the shadows between two of the buildings that encircled the bazaar.

Into the alleyway they slipped, Valen’s heart pounding. He had no idea what was about to happen to him, and found himself wishing that he was back with his sister and the Drakes right now. Raenelir would have been able to protect him, though he also hated not being able to just defend himself.

If he got out of this alive, he would have to figure out a way to change that.

They turned a corner at the end of the alley into a small open space between a few of the older buildings, and Valen saw that several other people were standing there, waiting for them. They all had dark hoods up, hiding their features beneath black cloaks almost dark enough to meld into the shadows.

“This the one?” one of the cloaked figures said. It was a woman’s voice, and as she spoke she leaned back against one of the buildings, arms crossed in front of her. The blade prodded him out into the center of the group before it finally pulled away, leaving Valen to finally be able to turn and look around at the people surrounding him – including the guy who had led him here, the only one with his hood off.

Though it took him a moment, Valen suddenly realized he recognized him as he stepped away, twirling the small, curved blade he had threatened him with between his fingers as they looked each other up and down.

“S-Simon? Or-“

In a flash, the blade was up again as the twin stepped forward, pressing the weapon against Valen’s throat. As he took in his old friend, the young Galar was not sure whether the years had been kind or rough to the boy. He and his brother were both a year younger than Valen, but the look in this one’s eyes was that of someone three times his age. He was world weary and tired, and built with a wiry but athletic frame that was held in a stance that left him ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice if he noticed any danger.

Dark red hair, once a fiery orange but now dulled to an angry crimson, grew long and unkempt over a sharply angled face and half the makings of a beard along his jawline. His eyes, once the color of a clear pond, were now a pale imitation of their former selves. A jagged scar ran along the left side of his jaw down to the tip of his chin, and his skin was the kind of dark one could only get when they spent almost their whole day, every day outside.

“Why do you know my brother’s name?!” he snarled, pressing his blade against Valen’s throat with enough force to draw a thin trickle of blood. The others looked on, obviously not sure whether they should intervene.

“Let it play out,” one of them said, this voice like the sound of a mountain groaning.

That seemed to settle it, leaving Valen and, he assumed, Samuel to work things out.

“Sam? Sam, it- it’s Valen. Val. Valen Galar,” he rasped, trying his best not to swallow or move too much with the edge of that blade so tight against his throat. However, a flash of recognition ran through the other boy’s eyes at the sound of his name, and then they narrowed in confusion as he looked Valen over once again.

Then, finally, Samuel inched back, just a bit, relieving the pressure on his throat.

“… Val?” Samuel whispered, as if he couldn’t believe the name was coming out of his mouth. Then, like a dam bursting, the veil of anger fell from his old friend’s face, replaced with disbelief and joy.

“Val!” he cried, laughing incredulously even as he twirled his blade one last time and made it disappear up the sleeve of his cloak. He brought Valen in for a quick, rough hug, before bringing him back and looking him up and down again, shaking his head.

“How? Why?” the Romari continued, not yet giving Valen a chance to speak. Then, as if he had just remembered that he had been threatening an old friend with his new ones in a back alley, Samuel chuckled a bit and stepped past Valen.

“Ah, it’s okay, everyone. This is an old friend of mine, from before I came to Lakevale. Valen Galar… he’s good,” Samuel explained to the others.

“You’re sure?” the deeply spoken man replied, and there was a pause here as everyone seemed to await Sam’s reply, as though his next words would dictate whatever actions followed.

“I’m positive,” Sam declared, a confident grin lighting up his face for a moment.

At this, the woman who had spoken before sighed and pulled her hood back, followed quickly after by two of the others. The only one who did not remove his hood was the man with the incredibly deep voice.

The woman had long, curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail, with eyes the color of amber. She had a wry smile on her face, with lines that seemed to indicate it was a permanent fixture. She had pale, freckled skin and a lithe frame, reminding Valen of the same lithe athleticism that Samuel bore.

That same build continued into the other two as well, another woman with a shaved head and dark brown eyes, a bit shorter than the other and with an angry look on her face, while the last one was an older man with salt and pepper hair, who carried himself with the air of someone who had seen more of the world than he would have ever cared to. Not to mention that every single one of them seemed to hold themselves with a danger he couldn't put a finger on..

Regardless, at the very least he did not feel as if he was still in danger himself, which was a welcome change. Yet then questions began to fill up his mind again due to the strangeness of his encounter with Samuel, and he found his eyes narrowing as he voiced the most burning of the questions.

“Sam…” he began, drawing his old friend’s attention back to him, and from the look on Samuel’s face it was as if he knew the question was coming.

“Where… where’s your family?”

Samuel Romari smiled, but it was a smile that could have slit a man’s throat.

“Ah, Val… I’ve got some things to catch you up on,” he said, though his voice seemed to come out in a hiss. The man who was still cloaked, with the deepest voice that Valen had ever heard, interrupted before Sam could say anything else.

“There will be time enough for that later. We can’t stay up here much longer, not all together like this. Bring your friend back to the Nest,” the man said, before stepping away from his position in the corner of the little alley space and striding over to an iron wrought sewage grate built into the cobblestone. Bending down, the large man heaved and, to Valen’s surprise, slid the grate right out.

Sighing again, the woman with the long hair nodded to the other two, who dropped down through the opening into the sewer first. Samuel wrapped an arm around Valen’s shoulder and pulled him along, bringing him to the entrance.

“Well go on then, Val. We need to talk, but we can’t do it here,” Sam said. Seeing the expression on Valen’s face, he chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry about the stink. You’ll get used to it eventually. We did.”

For a moment, he thought about just turning and trying to get away. Yet, his whole reason for coming into Lakevale had been to find the Romaris, and here one was. He could not just leave now that he had a chance to get some help, although somehow he felt as if he was not going to like what Samuel had to say about where the rest of his family was.

Regardless, without any real choice in the matter, Valen groaned. Then, before he could argue himself out of it, he sat down and slid in, falling a few feet to land in a crouch. He stumbled when his feet hit more cobblestone, but the older man who had gone in first steadied him, suppressing a small smile at the newcomer’s expense as his feet slipped into the sludge that waited for him.

“Welcome to the Lakevale Sewers,” the man said.

Behind Valen, Samuel hopped down, landing with the practiced grace of someone who was more than used to this. Close behind him came the woman with the long black hair, and then, finally, the man who still had not removed his cloak, who hit the ground without any sound at all and then reached up at his full height to slide the grate back into place.

As it locked back in, Valen had to wonder, just for a moment, if he had made a horrible mistake. Then, pushing those fears aside as the woman with the shaved head lit a torch that had been waiting off to the side, he followed after Samuel, hoping that he had not just gotten himself into even more trouble than he had already been in.