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The Guardian's Swansong

In the heart of the Tower lies a tale yet untold—a story whispered through the ages by those who dare remember. It is the legacy of the forgotten, the song of the forsaken, a reminder of what was lost and what is yet to come. The Guardian's Swansong is but a single verse in the endless melody of the Tower. And as the story unfolds, beware of the shadows—they may hold the answers you seek… or the end you fear.

Z3_R0 · Fantasía
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47 Chs

Wonders of Feysreach

As Kael stepped out into the cobblestone streets of Feysreach, he couldn't help but feel like a small child exploring a grand, vibrant world for the first time. The city was alive in ways he had never experienced before. Every corner bustled with activity, people moving to and fro, chatting, trading, and going about their daily lives. It was a symphony of sound and movement, with a distinct rhythm that Kael couldn't quite grasp but found fascinating nonetheless.

The air was thick with the smell of roasting meats, freshly baked bread, and spices he couldn't even begin to name. His stomach rumbled again, despite the breakfast he had just devoured. It seemed Feysreach was determined to tempt his appetite at every turn.

As he wandered down the street, Kael couldn't help but notice the food stalls lining the edges of the plaza. They were unlike anything he had ever seen. One stall had skewers of meat grilling over an open flame, the sizzling sound accompanied by the wafting scent of rich, savory spices. Another stall offered strange, brightly colored pastries filled with what looked like fruit, their glossy exteriors glistening in the morning sun.

His stomach growled in protest as he walked past a vendor selling something that smelled like a combination of roasted nuts and honey. The vendor smiled warmly, offering Kael a sample with a cheerful wave. Kael hesitated, but the tantalizing aroma was too much to resist. He took a small piece from the vendor's outstretched hand and popped it into his mouth. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced—sweet and nutty, with a hint of spice that left a pleasant warmth on his tongue.

"How much?" he asked, half-hoping it was something he could afford.

The vendor chuckled.

"Two copper for a handful."

Kael gave a polite smile, but his hand instinctively went to his pouch, where the few coins Elowen had given him sat. He would have to be careful about how he spent his money. Reluctantly, he shook his head and moved on, the vendor giving him a friendly nod as he continued along the street.

The bustling market only grew more vibrant the farther he walked. Stalls were overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and meats that Kael had never seen before, some glowing faintly with an otherworldly light, others exuding a strange, exotic fragrance. He paused for a moment to watch a butcher skillfully carve a massive, scaled creature that looked like it had been pulled straight from a nightmare. The vendor's deft hands moved quickly, separating the meat into neat cuts as customers lined up, eager for their share.

Beyond the food stalls, Kael's attention was drawn to the item shops lining the street. The signs above each shop were emblazoned with intricate, swirling designs, their names unfamiliar but intriguing. One shop had a sign that read Tomes & Trinkets, and Kael found himself lingering outside, staring at the window display. Shelves inside were filled with dusty old books, strange artifacts, and small, glowing stones that seemed to hum with power.

Next to it was a shop offering various survival tools—grappling hooks, lengths of rope, knives of all shapes and sizes, and small pouches that looked sturdy enough to carry all manner of items. Kael's fingers itched to explore, but once again, he reminded himself that his funds were limited. Still, it was fascinating to see how well-prepared these people seemed to be for whatever dangers lay outside the city walls.

As he walked past the shop, he caught sight of another vendor selling small vials of glowing liquid—potions, he realized. The vendor was engaged in an animated conversation with a customer, explaining the various effects of the brightly colored liquids. Some promised to heal wounds, others to restore energy, and a few had even more exotic effects, according to the vendor's enthusiastic sales pitch.

"Potion of Giant's Strength! One sip and you'll have the power to lift a boulder with ease!" the vendor exclaimed, holding up a bottle filled with deep red liquid.

Kael eyed the potions with curiosity, wondering if they really worked or if it was all just a clever way to separate eager adventurers from their money. He couldn't tell—he had so little experience with this world's strange offerings.

Further along, Kael's attention was drawn to a set of large forges in the distance. The unmistakable clang of hammers on anvils echoed through the street, drawing him toward the blacksmiths' quarter. Massive men and women, their skin glistening with sweat, worked tirelessly to shape molten metal into weapons and armor. Sparks flew as hammers pounded against red-hot steel, filling the air with the sharp scent of burning coal and iron.

Kael stood at the entrance of a blacksmith's shop, watching in awe as a craftsman expertly hammered a glowing sword into shape. The blade shimmered with an ethereal blue light, as if the metal itself held some kind of magical power. The blacksmith's hands moved with precision and grace, every strike of the hammer purposeful and deliberate.

A rack nearby displayed a wide variety of weapons—swords, axes, spears, and daggers, all gleaming with deadly promise. Kael could see the intricate designs etched into the metal, runes and symbols he didn't understand but knew held significance. The craftsmanship was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and he found himself drawn to the weapons, imagining what it would be like to wield something so powerful.

But it wasn't just the weapons that caught his eye. The leatherworkers next door were equally impressive, their shops filled with finely crafted armor, belts, pouches, and boots. One leatherworker was busy sewing together pieces of dark brown hide to create a chest piece, while another was working on a pair of sturdy-looking boots. The smell of treated leather filled the air, mixing with the scent of the nearby forge.

Kael marveled at the craftsmanship, his eyes scanning the shelves filled with neatly stacked pieces of armor. There were gauntlets, pauldrons, and even full sets of armor designed for Fatewalkers. Some were lightweight, clearly made for speed and agility, while others were thick and heavy, designed for brute strength and defense.

A small part of him wondered what it would be like to walk into a battle dressed in such finely made armor, carrying a weapon crafted by these master blacksmiths. He shook the thought away quickly, realizing he was far from ready for anything of the sort. Still, it was hard not to be awestruck by the sheer skill on display.

As he continued his journey through the city, Kael couldn't help but feel a strange sense of awe. The people of Feysreach were so different from anything he had ever known. They moved with purpose, their lives filled with duties and tasks Kael couldn't begin to understand. Fatewalkers, with their gleaming armor and powerful weapons, walked among ordinary folk as though they were giants among men. Even those without armor seemed to carry an air of confidence and strength, their clothes sleek and tailored, their faces sharp and alert.

Kael passed by a group of Fatewalkers standing outside a shop, their armor glinting in the sunlight. They were deep in conversation, their voices low and serious, but Kael could feel the weight of their presence. Their weapons hung at their sides, massive and intimidating, the air around them practically crackling with power.

"One day…" Kael muttered to himself, half in awe, half in disbelief. He wasn't sure if he would ever belong in a place like this, but the sheer grandeur of it all stirred something deep inside him—a longing he hadn't felt before.

He shook the thought away and continued down the street, trying not to get lost in the sea of new experiences. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of wandering, Kael found himself standing at the entrance of the shop Maria had mentioned.

A small, weathered sign swung gently in the breeze, the words Ragged Robes & More painted in faded letters. Kael stared at the sign, raising an eyebrow in mild disbelief.

"Ragged Robes?" he muttered to himself.

"Well, that's reassuring."

He glanced around, half-expecting to see a better option nearby, but it seemed this was the place Maria had spoken of. Despite the unimpressive name, Maria had assured him the tailor here was skilled and reasonably priced. With a resigned sigh and a hint of sarcasm in his tone, Kael muttered,

"I suppose you can't judge a shop by its sign."

He stepped forward, pushing the door open and hearing the faint jingle of a bell as he entered the shop.