As the chariot approached Calidora, the grandeur and scale of the kingdom gradually revealed itself to Ethan. Since his reincarnation into this world, he had only known the confines of two places, both starkly different from the view before him. The first was his home village, a place of sentimental value, marked by its old-fashioned charm and the simplicity of rural life, at least what it once used to be. The second was the magic academy he had briefly attended, a place of learning and discovery.

From the outside, Calidora appeared as a magnificent as depicted in the books he had read in his history class. Towering walls, crafted from large, meticulously carved stones, encircled the kingdom, their surfaces weathered by time yet standing firmly in place. The gates of Calidora were particularly striking – massive ironwork, they stood as both a welcoming entrance and a formidable barrier.

As the chariot neared the gates, a long queue of people and other carriages could be seen, all waiting patiently for their turn to enter. However, Ethan's journey was unhindered. Accompanied by soldiers, his chariot bypassed the line.

As Ethan observed the soldiers at the gates and those escorting him, a realization dawned on him. He found himself intrigued by the variety in their uniforms. Although they all served the same kingdom, subtle differences in their attire caught his attention. The primary element of their uniform, a tunic, varied in color among the soldiers. Some wore tunics of deep blue, while others were clad in hues of red, green, and brown. This diversity piqued Ethan's curiosity, as he was not yet informed to the significance behind these colors.

To Ethan, it became apparent that these colors were not chosen at random nor merely for aesthetic purposes. Each color was a symbol. 'Thought, what exactly did they symbolize?' he wondered.

Atop their tunics, the soldiers were clad in lightweight breastplates, designed to strike a balance between agility and protection. The design of these breastplates was such that it allowed the soldiers freedom of movement. Emblazoned on each of these breastplates was a magnificent crest, one that Ethan recognized from the books he had studied back at the academy. This emblem was more than just a decorative feature; it was a representation of the kingdom's history.

Central to the design of the crest is a bold lightning bolt, a clear representation of the unique magic by the kingdom's founding sorcerer-king. A symbol and statement of the unparalleled ability the founding father of this kingdom held, that no other mage has been known to replicate. Encircling the lightning bolt are intricate bands filled with runes and symbols, likely drawn from magical scripts. The entire crest is framed within a circular boundary, a common motif that symbolizes unity and protection. But the true meaning behind the circular frame is the statement that the kingdom is a world unto itself, complete and sovereign, with the founding sorcerer-king's legacy at its very heart.

Calydora Crest: https://i.imgur.com/gRCS3Eo.png [https://i.imgur.com/gRCS3Eo.png]

The soldiers, in their crisp uniforms and with an air of disciplined efficiency, guided the chariot through a separate, less congested entrance reserved for official or urgent business.

Ethan caught glimpses of the soldiers at the entrance and those who had escorted him engaging in a exchange, likely confirming identities for entry into the kingdom.

"Oi, where'd ya snatch this one from? Gave ya a runaround like them other brats?"

"Nah, bend an ear this way—I snagged this lad straight outta the magic school."

"What? You're pullin' my leg! The Imperial Academy, Lyria? C'mon, quit yer bluff. All them high-and-mighty types from there ain't never mixin' with us common fold. Spill it, ya found 'im in some backwater hamlet, yeah?"

"No bull! I know it sounds mad, but it's the plain truth. Kid's not some lordlin', but a common plowman. Somehow got his hands on some magic and made his way into the academy."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I'll be! Ain't ever heard of no dirt-footer treadin' them fancy halls! Ain't that the sorta tale that'd be all the buzz?"

"Thought so too, but seems like they've kept it tighter than a drum. Only got wind of it 'cause I pried it outta one of them student while waitin' for our boy here."

"Alright, if yer spoutin' the God's honest, what's got 'im dumped over here?"

"Beats me. Word is, he and some other brat crossed the line with the schoolmasters and got tossed out of the school."

Ethan's attention lingered on the guards' conversation, their rough voices barely a whisper among the clatter of the bustling checkpoint. Despite their casual, even irreverent tone, the information they carelessly tossed between them painted a picture of him, though he could careless about their opinions, as they where ignorant of the true facts.

Reckon he's in for a rough patch now," the first soldier continued, scratching at his stubble. "Doubt the officers there will cotton to him too kindly. They've got no love for the cushy life them noble mages live. If they catch wind of his past, uff, they'll ride him hard."

"True enough," the second soldier grunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

Ethan felt a twinge of discomfort. 'ride me hard?' he thought, he shifted uneasily, the weight of their stares reminding him he was still an outsider here.

The second soldier leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a hushed, grave tone. "Anyway, have you caught wind of that village not far from here? The whole place got butchered overnight by some dark creatures."

The first soldier's jesting demeanor vanished, replaced by a flicker of concern. "Massacred, you say? Creatures from the shadows, hereabouts?"

"Aye," the second soldier replied, his eyes scanning their surroundings as if the mere mention might summon such horrors. "Thornfield Village, just beyond the Eastern ridge. They say not a soul was left breathin'. Walls breached and houses burned to the ground."

Ethan's hands clenched involuntarily, the knuckles whitening as the conversation of the soldiers seeped into his ears, each word a hammer blow to his chest. "Thornfield Village..." The name echoed through his mind, a haunting refrain that brought with it images of warm smiles and familiar faces now lost to an unimaginable darkness. The soldiers' words, laden with a distant concern for a village they did not know, ignited a storm of grief and anger within Ethan.

The abrupt shout from behind jolted Ethan and the soldiers from their conversation. "Hey! What are you guys blabbering about! We don't have all day, get a move on!" barked a voice from another chariot, its driver clearly impatient with the delay at the entrance.

"Aye! Calm your neck, you mule!" retorted the first soldier, throwing a dismissive hand up but nudging the chariot forward. His companion chuckled, the tension of their earlier discussion dissipating like mist.

"Let's grab a pint later, I've got to drop this lad off at the camp." the second soldier said, giving Ethan a sidelong glance.

"Aye, that we will." agreed the first soldier as they both guided the chariot through the entrance.

Ethan sat quietly, the conversation about Thornfield and the soldiers' plans to drink later swirling in his head, a bitter reminder of the normalcy that continued around him while his world crumbled. He felt a deep sense of isolation, surrounded by individuals who would soon forget the village's name as easily as they shook off the dust from their boots.

As the chariot continued on, Ethan's gaze drifted to view beyond the gate. The interior of the kingdom unveiled itself like the opening pages of a new and unexplored book. The streets were lined with cobblestones, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet and wheels, leading deeper into the heart of the kingdom. To the sides, buildings rose in an array of architectural styles. Some structures boasted tall, pointed roofs, while others were adorned with rounded arches and intricate stonework.

The air was filled with the mixed scents of open-air markets, where vendors hawked their wares, from exotic spices to rare textiles, their stalls a riot of color and noise. The calls of merchants mingled with the laughter of children playing in the streets and the clatter of blacksmiths plying their trade. The hustle were indicative of a thriving kingdom, with each citizen contributing to the tapestry of daily life.

Throughout the kingdom, the presence of magic was palpable. Street lamps glowed with a steady, enchanting light. Here and there, street performers gathered crowds, their hands weaving spells that sent orbs of light dancing in the air or conjured miniature creature out of water that elicited delighted gasps from children and adults.

Ethan's gaze, however, was drawn to the majestic structure that dominated the cityscape—the royal palace. It stood resolute at the city's core, its presence felt from every corner of Calydora. The palace rose with an elegance that defied its massive scale, each tower capped with gilded roofs, a display of brilliance.

Despite the turmoil within him, Ethan couldn't help but be captivated by the sight.

The chariot rolled on, navigating through the animated streets of Calydora, each turn and cobblestone bringing Ethan ever closer to the military camp.