Morning fog still clung to the lowlands of Waldruhm's plains, when I hauled the first heavy crate out of the Greenfield house.
Elara stood at the first wagon, checking the leather harness straps. She pulled the knots tight quickly, her fingers moving with confidence despite the early hour. She turned at the sound of my footsteps and jerked her chin toward the back of the cart.
"Pack it flush against the side, Aren. We need room for Marta's bags."
I set the crate down. Glass clinked dully inside, tinctures and infusions we'd been preparing for the past few weeks. Leo burst out of the house, his bandaged finger smeared with oil, but his face split into a wide grin. He jumped up onto the cart wheel, trying to peer at the contents.
"I can't wait to get to Ockhaven already!"
Leo dropped back to the ground, nearly clipping Mia, who was slowly making her way onto the porch, pulling a warm wrap around herself.
Bernard rode into our yard on his massive wagon, drawn by a pair of heavy draft horses. His face looked tired, shadows had settled under his eyes from a sleepless night at the forge, but his shoulders stayed square. He dropped down, and the ground answered with a dull thud under his weight.
The blacksmith walked up to me and clapped me on the shoulder with a palm that smelled of soot and metal.
"Ready for the city noise, boy? Ockhaven during the festival is nothing like your quiet fields and groves."
I nodded, my hand feeling the pouch on my belt where Ingrid's parcel sat. We finished loading fast. The horses snorted, blowing steam from their nostrils, and shifted their hooves, feeling the road ahead.
When the sun finally broke through the haze, painting the Wind Catchers copper-red, our caravan of three wagons set off.
---
At the edge of the village we were met by Elder Ormund, an older man with a thick grey beard of middling length, dressed in light cloth robes with trousers of dense dark leather. He lifted his head, standing at the side of the wagon and looking up at Elara and Bernard sitting on top.
"The weather's kind today, I think you'll make it in about three hours."
He stood right at the road's edge, his palm slowly stroking the neck of one of the horses, keeping the animal still, while Leo leaned out from the wagon.
"Elder Ormund, is it true that there'll be guests from Aisengard at the festival this time?" — the boy asked, eyes shining.
The elder laughed quietly, still stroking the horse and glancing at the boy sitting above on the wagon.
"I've heard something of the sort, but I can't say for certain. It's been a good ten years since I've heard of Aisengardians in our parts."
Suddenly Ormund's expression shifted to wary and serious, as he looked to Elara and Bernard.
"It's not the first year I've told you to be careful on the ride to Ockhaven for the festival, but this time, I'm asking you to be even more vigilant."
Elara and Bernard tensed, catching the weight of their wise elder's unease.
"You think the Aisengardians coming bodes ill?" — asked the blacksmith.
"I don't know… but I feel something wrong is close…"
The elder gazed thoughtfully into the distance, as the wind lifted his short grey hair and beard.
"Honestly, there's an inexplicable dread sitting in my chest."
The recent atmosphere of festival anticipation, dancing, and happiness shifted without warning into something dark and frightening, making Elara and Bernard feel an even greater weight of responsibility and vigilance for themselves and their companions.
"Keep your eyes open, Bernard" — the elder's voice dropped lower, almost drowned out by the snorting of the horses.
"Ockhaven is large, but its walls don't always keep out what festers within. Especially when strangers pour into the city."
Ormund stepped back, clearing the road.
"Safe travels. May Prime keep your souls."
Bernard gave a short nod and cracked the reins hard. The draft horses pulled taut against the harness, and the wagons ground forward with a heavy creak, through the dense grove. I walked behind, feeling how Leo's festival excitement had given way to a puzzled silence.
---
The wagon wheels knocked dully against the stony ground, as we left the shadows of the grove. The trees pulled back, opening onto the edge of a massive rocky plateau. The road dropped steeply here, winding down the slope toward the plains spreading out below.
I stopped at the very edge of the drop. Ahead, as far as sight could carry, stretched a sea of tall grass and open plain, crossed by thin threads of road.
Far to the east, Ockhaven rose out of that green ocean.
The city looked like a monumental mass of white stone and grey tile. The sun caught the sharp spires of the castle that dominated the circular walls.
The wind hit my face, lifting strands of my black hair. My breath came deep and sharp, as the reality pressed down on me physically, making me understand the smallness of every image my imagination had built from Leo's stories and the villagers' talk.
My attention finally shifted from inside to outside.
Elara pulled the reins, bringing the horses to a halt. She turned and studied my face.
"Aren? Why have you frozen up?"
I slowly moved my gaze to her.
"The world… it's bigger than I thought."
She gave a short smirk, sweeping her eyes over the jagged mountain ridges on the horizon.
"This is just Waldruhm. Prime is far bigger than you think."
Elara adjusted her seat and took up the reins again, throwing me a quick smile.
"Well? Coming? Bernard doesn't like to wait."
I nodded and fell into step behind the wagon.
The descent was long. The horses' hooves rang loud against the rocky surface, and the wagons groaned on the turns. With every dozen meters down, Ockhaven grew larger, gaining detail: massive gatehouse towers, smoke from forges, and flags flickering on the walls.
I shifted my gaze to the right, toward where the plains broke off on the horizon. Far to the south stood a solid wall of enormous trees of the legendary Great Forest.
"That… that's the Great Forest…" — I said aloud.
My voice came out flat against the grinding of the wheels. Looking at those colossal trunks, I understood how vast the forms of life in this world could be.
I looked at the grey silhouette of a watchtower rising above the plain grass. It was built from massive blocks, darkened by time and damp.
"Is that a watchtower keeping watch on the forest's border?" — I asked, not pulling my eyes from the structure.
Bernard tugged the left rein, steering around a large rock. He glanced toward the tower, and I watched his brow furrow.
"Yes. That's the Southern Post, the Forest Watch tower."
We kept moving, and Ockhaven was now visible far more clearly, its white stone walls looked unbreakable, but against the colossal trees to the south they seemed little more than a fragile fence.
When we finally reached the capital, the white walls of Ockhaven rose above us, throwing back the midday heat. At the massive iron-bound gates, a motley crowd had backed up: peasants in linen shirts, League merchants in silks, and noisy clusters of townsfolk whose voices merged into a continuous din, drowning out the squeak of our wagons.
Guards in polished breastplates stood in pairs at the passage. One of them, leaning lazily on the haft of his halberd, watched the traffic roll past, while his partner gave short nods to carters he recognized. Despite their relaxed postures, their swords were polished, and their eyes ran professionally over every load, checking for contraband.
Bernard held the horses, waiting his turn. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Elara, who had jumped down onto the cobblestones and was straightening the collar of her tunic.
"Aren, help Leo wake up. We'll need to unload fast at the Eastern Market before the spots are taken" — said Elara, turning to me.
I went to the back of the wagon and grabbed the rough edge to pull myself up. Leo stirred among the boxes and cloth, pressing his bandaged finger to his chest. The city gates were slowly drawing closer, and I felt the weight of the stone vaults cover us in shadow.
I nudged him lightly on the shoulder.
"Leo, wake up. We're here."
The boy stretched and let out a long, deep yawn. His hair was tangled and sticking out in every direction. He blinked drowsily at the space around him until his eyes focused on me.
"That was fast."
I dropped back down onto the road. Our wagon wheels thundered over the massive stone cobbles, as we passed under the arch of the main gates.
The shadow of the walls brought a moment of cool air, cutting the day's heat. Ahead, Ockhaven opened up: tight rows of white stone and dark timber houses, festival flags strung between floors, and the grand royal castle commanding the central hill.
Bernard up ahead reined in the wagon, nodding to the guards. They stood motionless, gripping their halberd hafts, and watched our caravan pass in silence.