The transition from the quiet outskirts to the heart of the capital was a sensory overload. Grandis was a city built in layers, a sprawling masterpiece of white stone and soaring spires that seemed to hum with a restless, chaotic energy.
Aleric moved through the inner streets with a steady, measured stride, his eyes taking in the details of his new surroundings. To his left, a massive open-air market was in full activity. He watched merchants from distant provinces haggling over crates of exotic spices and bolts of heavy silk. The air was thick with the scent of roasted street food, damp wool, and the metallic tang of a nearby smithy.
He paused at a fountain in a central plaza, watching a group of street performers. They weren't using magic; they were using simple physics—juggling knives and breathing fire with oil—to earn coppers from a crowd of laborers. Just a few blocks away, the scenery shifted. The cobblestones became smoother, and the noise of the market faded into the dignified silence of the Upper District.
Here, he saw the true divide of the city. He watched a carriage pass by, its wheels reinforced with expensive steel, pulled by horses groomed to a mirror-like shine. Inside sat a noble in robes so heavy with embroidery it was a wonder he could move. Aleric watched as the carriage splashed through a puddle, heedless of the commoners walking near the gutter. It wasn't malice; it was a complete lack of awareness for anything outside their own social circle.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the streetlights began to flicker to life. They were sturdy iron casings burning heavy oil, casting a warm, flickering orange glow over the damp stones. Near the district gates, he spotted a rare exception: a high-density mana crystal encased in a brass housing. It bled off its energy in a steady, icy blue light—a costly luxury that stood in stark contrast to the smoking oil lamps of the lower streets.
He eventually found an inn near the merchant district called The Gilded Gear. It was a lively place, filled with the smell of roasting meat and the sound of laughter. Inside, the innkeeper was struggling with a messy ledger, his brow furrowed in deep concentration while he argued with a delivery boy over a late shipment of grain.
Aleric waited for the boy to leave before approaching the counter.
"If you move your salt-pork storage closer to the cellar entrance," Aleric suggested softly, leaning on the dark wood of the counter, "the natural draft will keep it fresh significantly longer. You'd save enough on waste to buy that new sign you've been wanting."
The innkeeper looked up, surprised. He ran the numbers in his head, his eyes widening as he realized the suggestion made perfect sense. "You've got a sharp head on your shoulders, friend. Most just complain about the wait times or the smell."
"It's a good inn," Aleric said sincerely. "It just has more potential than you're currently using."
Aleric spent the next few days roaming further. He walked the perimeter of the great spires of the Aethelgard Academy, watching students in crisp uniforms discuss magic theories that seemed needlessly complex. He stood at the edges of the South Docks, watching "merchants-errant" unload crates of monster parts—claws, hides, and vials of essence—destined for the city's alchemists.
He saw the desperation of the commoners taking odd jobs for a handful of bread, and the cold efficiency of the Adventurer's Guild scouts as they recruited muscle for the frontier.
After seeing how the city functioned, he identified two practical paths to move forward.
First: The Aethelgard Academy. He had watched the scholars and realized that to understand how magic was being practiced in this era, he needed to access their archives. It was the only way to see the fundamental principles and history behind their modern spells.
Second: The Adventurer's Guild. While the Academy would provide knowledge, he needed a way to sustain himself. In the wild, the work was straightforward. By taking on the monsters that threatened the trade routes, he could earn the capital he needed to live comfortably—ensuring he had good food, sturdy clothes, and a warm place to stay.
He sat by the window of his room that night, looking down at his shadow, which seemed to ripple against the floorboards with quiet anticipation. Aleric closed his eyes, feeling the pulse of the city beneath him. It was a massive, living thing, and he was finally ready to step into the gears.