The next morning dawned bright and wind-clear. The road curved along a ridge, and when they reached the top, Ronan tugged Lira's reins to a stop.
"There," he said softly.
Below them, spread across the valley, stood Valenreach.
A city so large it looked alive—walls of pale stone streaked with glowing lines, towers that pierced the clouds, banners rippling crimson and gold. Bridges of light arched between rooftops; carts rolled through gates wide enough for airships. Even from miles away, the hum of energy reached their ears.
Arin stared, speechless. After weeks of forest silence, the sight almost didn't feel real.
Ronan grinned at his expression. "Biggest kingdom in the central lands. Don't gape too long or they'll start charging for air."
They descended slowly. The closer they came, the louder the world grew—voices, wheels, the ring of blacksmiths' hammers. Magic lamps hovered above the gate plaza, bathing everything in warm light despite the sun. Traders shouted in half a dozen dialects. Somewhere, a mechanical hawk screeched overhead.
Ronan parked the cart in the inspection line. "Keep quiet, follow my lead, and don't look guilty," he murmured.
"I'm not guilty of anything," Arin said.
"That's what guilty people say," Ronan replied, smirking.
Before Arin could answer, chaos erupted near the market stalls. A man in tattered clothes shoved through the crowd, clutching a bulging pouch. Behind him, a merchant shouted, "Thief! Stop that bastard!"
The guards at the checkpoint moved, but the thief was quick, darting between wagons.
Without thinking, Arin jumped off the cart.
He cut across the flow of people, timing the man's path. The thief glanced back—saw Arin—too late. Arin stepped forward and hooked his leg. The man hit the dirt, the pouch bursting open, coins scattering like rain.
The nearest soldier arrived, grabbing the thief by the collar. "Nice catch," he said gruffly, hauling the man to his feet.
Arin straightened, breathing steady. People murmured; some clapped lightly before returning to their business. The soldier looked him up and down. "You military?"
Arin shook his head. "Just helped."
The guard frowned slightly, then raised a crystal scanner—a small orb that shimmered with faint runes—and passed it before Arin's chest.
The orb pulsed once, dimly, then stilled.
For a heartbeat, the soldier's eyes narrowed. He'd felt something—a flicker buried deep, restrained and distant, like heat behind stone. Then it was gone.
He grunted. "Hm. Must've been my imagination." He handed the orb back to his belt and nodded. "You can go."
Arin nodded and returned to the cart. Ronan gave him a sideways look as they rolled forward through the now-open gate. "Nice reflexes," he said. "But next time, warn me before you start hero stuff. Could've gotten speared for that."
"Instinct," Arin muttered.
Ronan smirked. "Yeah, well, your instincts nearly impressed the guards too much."
Inside the gate, the world changed completely.
Wide streets paved with pale stone wound between towering buildings. Rune-lights floated like lanterns above doorways. Vendors called out, selling bread that steamed with soft light and blades that hummed with mana current. At every corner, soldiers in silver armor patrolled in neat pairs.
Children chased a floating ball of energy through the square. Above them, a rail-cart glided silently along an invisible track, carrying passengers across the upper district.
Arin turned slowly, taking it all in—the scent of metal and spice, the hum of enchantment beneath his boots. After so long surviving on instinct, this civilization felt alien.
Ronan guided the cart toward a stable. "Welcome to Valenreach, kid. Loud, expensive, and always watching you. But it's got work, food, and roofs that don't leak."
Arin gave a faint smile. "That's enough for now."
As they passed an enormous statue near the central avenue—an armored figure raising a sword toward the sky—Ronan nodded at it. "That's General Varric, one of their commanders. They say every general here could level a hill if they wanted. Some can split mana storms in half."
Arin frowned slightly. "Sounds exaggerated."
Ronan chuckled. "Maybe. But Valenreach runs on belief as much as power. Makes people behave."
They stopped near a tavern square. Ronan hopped down and stretched. "We'll rest here for tonight. Tomorrow I'll head for the trade quarter. You can tag along or find your own path. Up to you."
Arin looked around again, the enormity of the place sinking in—the noise, the color, the hidden tension beneath order. Somewhere beyond those walls lay whatever future waited for him.
He nodded slowly. "I'll stay for now."
Ronan grinned, patting his shoulder. "Good choice. And hey—don't look so serious. You're safe here. Probably."
Arin glanced at him. "Probably?"
Ronan winked. "Depends who you bump into."
The humor faded into the hum of the city as the sun dipped behind Valenreach's towers, their runes flaring to life one by one—stars awakening on stone.
For Arin, it wasn't just a new place.
It was the first time since everything fell apart that he felt he'd stepped into a world still moving forward.