Chapter 3 - Something wrong is close.
Morning mist still clung to the low ground of the Waldruhm plains as Aren carried the first heavy crate out of the Greenfield house.
Elara stood by the lead cart, checked and tightened the leather harness straps, then turned at the sound of his footsteps and tipped her chin toward the back of the wagon.
Aren set the crate down and heard a dull clink from the glass bottles inside, filled with the tinctures and decoctions they had spent the last few weeks preparing.
Leo dashed out of the house, his bandaged finger smudged with oil and a wide grin lighting his face, then hopped onto the cart wheel, straining to see what was inside.
"I can't wait to finally get to Ockhaven!" he said, and jumped back down, nearly bumping into Mia, who was stepping slowly out onto the porch, wrapped in a warm cloak, ready to say her goodbyes.
Bernard drove his massive wagon, drawn by a pair of draft horses, into the yard, then swung down, the ground answering his weight with a solid thud.
He walked over to Aren and clapped him on the shoulder with a palm that smelled of soot and metal.
"Ready for the city's bustle, boy? Ockhaven during festival season is nothing like these quiet fields and groves."
Aren nodded as the horses snorted behind him, blowing steam from their nostrils and shifting their hooves.
When the sun finally broke through the haze, tinting the windmills copper-red, their two-cart caravan set off.
At the edge of the village they were met by its headman, Ormund, an older man with a full, medium-length gray beard, dressed in pale cloth robes and trousers of thick, dark leather.
He lifted his head to Elara and Bernard, seated above him on the wagon.
"The weather's in your favor today. I'd guess you'll reach the city in about three hours."
He stood right at the roadside, evenly stroking the neck of the horse that waited quietly beside him, while Leo leaned out from the cart.
"Grandpa Ormund, is it true there'll be guests from Aisengard at the festival this time?" he asked, eyes shining.
The elder chuckled softly, still stroking the horse as he glanced at the boy.
"I've heard something like that, but I can't say for certain. Still, it's been a good ten years since I last heard of Aisengarders in these parts."
Then Ormund's brows lowered and his hand went still as he looked at Elara and Bernard.
"This isn't the first year I've told you to be careful traveling to the Ockhaven festival, but this time I ask you to be more watchful still."
Elara and Bernard exchanged a glance, paused briefly, then turned back to the elder.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
"You think the Aisengarders' arrival bodes ill?" the blacksmith asked.
"I don't know... but I feel something is coming, something wrong..."
The elder looked thoughtfully into the distance as the wind stirred his short gray hair.
"Honestly, there's an inexplicable unease sitting on my chest... Keep your eyes open, Bernard," the elder said, his voice quiet, almost drowned out by the horses' snorting.
"Ockhaven is vast, but its walls don't always protect against what festers within. Especially when strangers flood into the city," he added, then stepped back to clear the way.
"Safe travels. May the Mother Goddess watch over your souls."
Bernard nodded curtly and snapped the reins; the draft horses pulled the harness taut, and the carts rolled forward with a heavy creak, heading into the dense grove.
Aren walked behind and saw Leo's festive excitement give way to puzzled silence.
The cart wheels thudded dully against the stony ground as they left the grove's twilight behind.
The trees parted on the edge of a huge rocky plateau, where the road plunged steeply downward and wound along the slope toward the plains spread out below.
Aren stopped short at the very lip of the cliff, and ahead, as far as the eye could see, stretched a sea of tall grass over the plains, crossed by the thin threads of roads.
Far to the east, Ockhaven, the heart of Waldruhm, rose from this green ocean.
The city looked like a monumental cluster of white stone and gray tile roofs, and the sun glinted off the castle's sharp spires towering over the encircling walls.
Wind struck his face and lifted strands of his black hair, as Elara drew the reins taut and brought the horses to a stop.
She turned to study Aren's face.
"Aren? Why did you freeze?"
"The world... it's bigger than I thought."
She gave a short laugh and let her eyes run along the jagged mountain ridges on the horizon.
"This is only Waldruhm. Prime is far bigger than you think."
Elara adjusted her seat, took up the reins again and flashed him a quick smile.
"Well, shall we? Bernard doesn't like waiting."
Aren nodded and set off after the wagon.
The descent was long. The horses' hooves struck loudly on the rock, and the carts groaned on the turns.
With every ten meters of descent, Ockhaven grew larger, its massive gatehouse towers, the smoke rising from its forges, and the flags flickering along its walls all coming into sharper detail.
Aren looked to his right, where the plains broke off at the horizon and a solid wall of gigantic trees rose beyond it.
"Is that... the Great Forest?..." Aren said aloud.
Then he picked out the gray silhouette of a watchtower rising above the grass of the plain.
It was built of heavy blocks, darkened by time and damp.
"Is that a watchtower guarding the forest's borders?" he asked, eyes fixed on it.
Bernard pulled the left rein to steer around a large boulder, and glanced toward the tower.
"Yes, that's the Southern Post, or the Forest Watch tower."
They went on, and Ockhaven now stood out far more clearly, its stone walls unbreakable, though against the colossal trees to the south they looked like nothing more than a fragile fence.
When they finally reached the capital, Ockhaven's white walls towered above them, reflecting the noon heat.
A motley crowd had gathered at the great steel-bound gates, peasants in linen shirts, Trade League merchants in silks, and noisy clusters of townsfolk whose voices merged into a continuous din, drowning out the creak of the carts.
Guards in polished cuirasses stood in pairs by the passage.
One of them leaned lazily on his halberd and watched the passersby, while his partner nodded briefly to drivers he recognized.
Bernard reined in the horses to wait his turn, wiped the sweat from his brow, then glanced at Elara, who had jumped down onto the cobblestones and was straightening the collar of her tunic.
"Aren, help Leo wake up. We need to unload quickly at the Eastern Market before all the spots are taken," she said.
Aren went to the back of the cart and took hold of the rough edge with one hand to pull himself up, while Leo stirred among the boxes and cloth, pressing his bandaged finger to his chest.
He gave the boy a light push on the shoulder to get him moving.
"Leo, wake up. We're here."
The boy stretched and let out a long, deep yawn, his hair tangled and sticking out in every direction. He looked around him, still half asleep, until his eyes settled on Aren.
"That was fast."
Aren jumped back down onto the road as their wagon's wheels rumbled over the massive stone cobbles and passed beneath the arches of the main gate.
The shadow of the walls brought a moment of coolness, smothering the day's heat, and the panorama of Ockhaven opened up ahead, dense rows of houses in white stone and dark timber, festival flags strung between the upper floors, and the majestic royal castle rising on the central hill.
Ahead, Bernard pulled the wagon up and nodded to the guards, who had not moved, gripping the shafts of their halberds.