People moved through the town at their own pace — children cutting between legs, merchants calling from doorways, the general noise of a place that didn't know it had visitors.
The four of them stood looking up at the shop.
"You sure this is it?" Garon asked.
"It's right there," Cottage said.
"I'm sure," Astrid said.
"You sure?" Garon asked again.
"Shut up," Cottage said.
"We could try again later," Dot said.
A sound cut through before Astrid could respond — something scraping the ground, slow and rhythmic. An old man pushing through the crowd with a walking stick, the tip dragging with every step.
He stopped beside them without being asked.
"He's left," the old man said. "Gone to the capital."
"You know him?" Dot asked.
"Yeah."
The stick scraped again as he shifted his weight.
"You're looking for William, aren't you."
"Yes," Astrid said, stepping forward.
"He's left. Gone to the capital," the old man repeated.
Cottage put his hand over his face.
The old man shuffled past them. Then stopped.
"You know you can't go to the capital dressed like that." He looked them over slowly. "You lot look stupid." He chuckled and kept walking.
"That jerk," Cottage said.
"He's right," Garon said.
They all turned to look at him.
"The capital is different. The people there dress differently, carry themselves differently. The moment we walk through those gates they'll read us instantly." He was already moving. "Keep up."
The Tailor — Edge of the Capital
The shop was neat. Clean floors, fabric samples along every wall, the faint smell of something freshly pressed.
"Welcome," the woman at the desk said. "What can I do for you?"
"Sorry," Dot said, looking down at the mud his boots had tracked in. He laughed awkwardly.
A girl appeared with a mop before he finished.
"It's fine," she said, already cleaning.
"Let me guess," the woman said, looking at the four of them. "Travellers. Rings tournament?"
"We just need to get into the capital," Astrid said. "Blend in."
"What can you give us?" Garon added.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "My — your common tongue is quite refined." She gestured around the shop. "We have plenty of variety. Nora — help them."
The girl set the mop against the wall and held it out toward Dot.
He took it. Stood there holding it. Blinked.
"Follow me," Nora told Astrid, already moving toward the curtains.
"Boys — left side," she called back, dropping an armful of clothing on them as she passed.
It took a while.
Several attempts, a few disagreements, one moment where Cottage got stuck and needed help, and eventually — they all looked the part.
Nora kept finding reasons to look at Garon. When their eyes met she looked immediately at the floor, face going red.
"What?" Garon said.
"Nothing," she said.
"It's tight," Dot said, scratching at his collar. "And itchy."
"Stop that," Cottage said. "You'll tear it."
Then Astrid stepped out from behind the curtain.
The boys went quiet.
She looked at them. Her face went slightly pink.
"What?"
"You look stunning, princess," Cottage said, dropping immediately to one knee.
"Thank you, Cottage," she said.
Dot was still staring. She caught him and looked away first.
"Your total," the woman said, setting down the bill. "Thirty thousand quibes."
Dot went pale.
Astrid reached into her bag and set a sack of coins on the counter.
"Keep the change."
Dot pointed at her with both thumbs up, grinning.
"Let's go," Garon said, already heading for the door.
"Wait—" Dot turned back, disappearing behind the curtain. He came back out with two things — a broken sword and a small key. He held them both like they meant something.
"Thanks," he told the woman and Nora on the way out.
"Come back anytime," they said together, waving from the doorway.
The Capital Gates
The difference was visible before they even crossed through.
On one side — the suburbs of Valdrick. Streets full of noise, children, colour, the particular energy of people making do. On the other — the capital. Wider streets. Quieter. The kind of clean that comes from people being paid to maintain it.
The citizens of the capital occupied a different tier entirely. Better dressed, better fed, moving with the ease of people who had never needed to think too hard about either. The only time both sides existed in the same space was the rings tournament — and even then they sat apart.
"I haven't been here in years," Astrid said, looking around. "It's changed."
"Good evening," a man said as he passed, daughter at his side.
"Good day," Dot said, turning slowly, taking it all in like he'd never seen anything like it.
"Where exactly are we going?" Garon asked.
"The old man said William would be performing at a show," Cottage said. "Try to keep up."
"Here," Astrid said, stopping outside an entrance where other well-dressed guests were filing through. She looked at the boys.
"Hand them over."
"What?" all three said simultaneously.
"You can't go in armed."
Garon turned around immediately. "I'll wait outside. Get what we need and find me."
"Stubborn," Cottage muttered.
Dot and Cottage handed their weapons over — a process that took longer than expected given the quantity. Astrid's arms sagged under the weight.
Cottage took them back from her without being asked.
"I'll hold them," he said. "You go in."
Inside the Ballroom
The room was already filling. Chandeliers, conversation, the specific hum of people who dressed well and knew it.
Dot and Astrid found seats.
The show began — a performer working with a puppet, the doll moving with an precision that didn't quite look like strings.
"That's incredible," Dot said, slightly too loud.
A few heads turned.
"Sorry," he said.
Astrid glanced at him. Looked away. Her face was slightly pink again.
"Where's Cottage?" Dot asked.
"Probably with Garon," she said.
Somewhere in the Capital — An Alley
Garon had been walking for twenty minutes when the shouting started behind him.
"Stop her — thief—"
A small girl collided with him from the side, grabbing his arm with both hands and holding on.
He looked down at her.
The crowd came around the corner.
He stepped sideways into the nearest alley, pulling her with him. They pressed against the wall. The footsteps passed.
When it was quiet he looked at her.
"Are you alright?"
"Thank you, mister," she said.
"Where are your parents?"
She smiled.
"Follow me."
She led him through three turns and down a narrow passage before he stopped.
"Who are you?" he said.
She let go of his hand.
He looked at her properly for the first time. The way she'd moved through the crowd. The way she'd found him specifically. The way getting through from the suburbs to the capital required connections most people didn't have.
"How did you get past the gates?" he said. "Suburbs don't just walk into the capital."
She laughed.
"Dad," she called out. "This one's smart."
Her father stepped out of the shadow at the end of the passage.
The bounty hunter.
"Your father is asking for you, boy," the man said, arms loose at his sides. "Come peacefully. Make this easy. Your friends are probably already being dealt with as we speak."
Garon looked at the man. At the girl. At the passage behind them.
Then he drew Skógrimr.
"Tell my father I'm not coming back," he said. "Not until I've kept my promise."
He smiled slightly.
"And that I'll be sending his regards — through you."
To Be Continued…