The sun climbed higher in the sky, beating down on the riders as they pressed on through the rolling hills. Eon was shifting around in his saddle; the leather under him felt very uncomfortable as time went on, his thighs aching from the constant rhythm of the horse's gait.
Half a day had passed since they left the inn; the morning's mist long burned away, leaving the air dry and dusty. The landscape had changed subtly, sparser trees giving way to cultivated fields, patches of golden wheat swaying in the breeze, dotted with workers bent over their labors. The scent of earth and hay mingled with the sweat of the horses, a reminder that they were deep into rural territory now.
Eon's mind wandered back to the night before, the warmth of Elora's skin, the way her confessions had unraveled him. He stole a glance at her riding nearby; she rode bareheaded, her hair tied back against the wind, and her expression looked like a mix of contentment and quiet worry. Verra's silence still hung over both Eon and Elora like an unspoken cloud, but no one had addressed it yet.
As the path crested a gentle rise, the outline of a small town came into view. It wasn't much, a cluster of stone and timber buildings huddled behind a modest wall, more like a barrier against wandering beasts than any real fortification. The wall was weathered, patched in places with mismatched stones, and topped with wooden spikes that looked more decorative than defensive.
Two guards stood at the gate; their armor looked very dull in the midday light, spears leaning lazily against the archway. They straightened up as the group approached, eyes widening at the sight of Alaric at the lead.
"Lord Alaric!" one called out, snapping to attention with a crisp salute. The other followed suit, their movements hurried, almost flustered but yet robotic. "Welcome back to Denares lands, my lord. We weren't expecting you to come into our Diara town."
Alaric nodded curtly, his face impassive. "No need for ceremony. Open the gate. We won’t stay for longer."
The guards scrambled to comply, the heavy wooden doors groaning open on rusted hinges. The group rode through without slowing, the clatter of hooves echoing off the walls. Eon felt a prickle of curiosity as they entered; this was Denares territory. Though it was just a small town located at the border of the Denares’s Estate, it was almost two times bigger than the Edger town. His imagination ran inside his head about how big the Denares Town would be if this was just a border town to them. From the outside, it looked unassuming, but he knew even this town had walls protecting it from wild beasts, while the Edger town had none. It just showed how small their wealth was.
Inside, the town buzzed with life, completely different from the dying markets of the Edger counties they'd left behind yesterday. The main road was alive with activity, lined with shops that spilled their wares onto the cobblestones. Vendors hawked their goods from colorful stalls, fresh produce piled high in baskets, the sharp tang of apples and root vegetables cutting through the air; blacksmiths hammering away at forges, the clang of metal and sizzle of hot iron adding to the chaotic noise the town was producing.
Eon took it all in; his senses were picking up every detail. A group of children chased each other through the crowd, laughing as they dodged a cart laden with wool. Nearby, he saw a street performer juggle balls of flickering light, minor magic, illusion spells that drew oohs and aahs from a small audience. Coins clinked as passersby tossed tips into a hat at his feet.
Further down, a makeshift potion stall caught Eon's eye: vials of swirling liquids in greens and blues, labeled with crude signs promising cures for warts or boosts in stamina. The seller was a wiry man with a small beard, calling out to a potential customer, bartering a potion for a sack of grain instead of coin.
'This is what a different world should look like,' Eon thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the fatigue from horse riding. Back in Seoul, fantasy worlds in games and books had always seemed so vibrant, full of wonder. Here, it was real, the mix of mundane and magical, the haggling voices rising in a babel of accents, the faint traces of mana in the air from those casual spells. But beneath the bustle, he sensed something else too: a few wary glances their way, whispers about Alaric's return. The Denares name carried a lot of weight here, as it seemed.
They didn't linger around too long. Alaric led them to a roadside restaurant, a squat building with a thatched roof and a sign swinging in the breeze depicting a steaming bowl. The group dismounted, tying their horses to a post outside where a trough of water waited. Eon's stomach growled loudly as he stretched his legs; the morning's bread and bananas were long digested. The smell wafting from the open door, roasting meat and herbs, maybe promised something hearty, even if it wasn't gourmet.
As they stepped inside, the dim interior greeted them: rough-hewn tables scattered across a dirt floor, and a few patrons were nursing mugs of ale. The owner seemed like a fat-looking man with a flour-dusted apron who looked up from wiping a counter. Just when Alaric entered, the entire room’s atmosphere changed on its own. Like royalty entered a peasant’s room without regarding the privacy of anybody inside.
The owner’s face became pale at the sight of Alaric, and he dropped to his knees with a thud, hands clasped together.
"M-my lord! Forgive me, please! Whatever offense my son has caused, I swear it wasn't intentional!" His voice trembled, eyes darting as if expecting a guard to drag him away. "I swear on my father’s name, he is not a bad boy. He is just a little mischievous. Please have mercy on him, my lord!"
Alaric frowned, caught off guard. "Stand up, man. I don’t know what son you are talking about. We're here for lunch, nothing more."
The owner blinked, confusion replacing his previous fear. "L-lunch? In my humble establishment?" Then his eyes scanned Alaric’s behind. There were several other people, clearly dressed for horse riding. He understood that they must have stopped here only for lunch, nothing else.
He scrambled to his feet, brushing off his apron. "Ohh, of course, my lord! I’ll present the best I have: stew and bread, fresh from the oven. Please, sit!"
Eon exchanged a glance with Elora, who hid a smirk behind her hand. They settled at a long table near the window; the wooden benches groaned under their weight.
The owner, with busy steps, came and presented food on their table, ladling steaming stew into bowls and slicing thick loaves. It arrived quickly, garnished with wilted greens and a dollop of what might have been butter.
Eon took his first bite, the spoon dipping into the murky broth. The flavor hit him like a disappointment: over-salted, the meat was tough and stringy, the vegetables mushy from overcooking. Yet he chewed mechanically, his mood dipping after each bite. 'Of course the taste had to be horrible,' he thought, swallowing with effort.
After the long ride, he'd hoped for something restorative, a proper meal to shake off the road's weariness. But instead what he got was barely edible, the kind of fare that sustained but didn't satisfy. Around the table, others ate without complaint; even Alaric was eating his portion as if it was natural in a town like this. Verra was picking at hers in continued silence, the guards wolfing it down like it was a feast.
Elora caught his eye, wrinkling her nose slightly, and he managed a wry smile. 'At least we're not skipping lunch. For a second I thought we really would go starved all the way to Denares mansion,' he reminded himself, forcing another spoonful. The bread was the saving grace, crusty on the outside but soft within, though even that tasted very stale.
They finished quickly; the meal was more a necessity than enjoyment. Just as they rose to leave, the owner hovered nervously, refusing payment with continuous bows. "No charge for you, my lord! It's an honor." Alaric tossed a few coins on the table anyway, a gesture that seemed to ease the man's tension.
Outside, the sun blazed hotter now, the afternoon heat shimmering off the road. Elora paused at a nearby stall, eyeing a display of hats woven from straw and dyed fabrics. She picked one, a wide-brimmed thing with a simple band, and tried it on, while tilting her head.
"This'll keep the sun off, I think," she said to Eon, who nodded approvingly.
"Yeah, It Suits you too. Get it."
She bartered briefly with the vendor, exchanging a copper for the hat, and wore it on her head as they remounted. The group spurred their horses onward, leaving the town behind. The road narrowed ahead, winding toward the distant silhouette of the main Denares town and mansion.
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