The children spilled from the carriages with their belongings, their faces alight with an excitement that buzzed through the air. They gathered in a tight, chattering cluster before the academy's grand entrance, all but vibrating with the desire to rush inside.
But the three Archons who had escorted them now stood before them, blocking the way. Leander, positioned in the center, spoke with a sober gravity. "For the last three months, you have endured punishing hardships, faced down mortal danger, and finally reached Argentis. You have done well."
A wave of emotion crashed over the children, and they erupted in a cheer. For youths who had been coddled their entire lives, the journey had been a waking nightmare. More than a few, standing here now, began to cry with sheer, unadulterated relief.
"However," Leander's sharp voice cut through their celebration like a shard of ice. "You are not yet students of Veridian Academy. As such, you may not set foot on these grounds."
"Then where are we supposed to go?"
The question triggered an uproar. Voices rose in a panicked clamor, some breaking into sobs, wailing about the unfairness of it all.
"Silence!" Gareth's roar was a physical force, instantly quelling the noise.
Leander continued as if uninterrupted. "The academy examination will be held in seven days. Until then, you will all stay at Hawthorne's Inn." He pointed toward a tall building in the distance, a structure built around the trunk of an even taller, ancient tree.
"The inn is the property of Veridian Academy," Leander added. "As prospective students, you will be given a substantial discount."
"We still have to pay?"
The protest was a collective, tearful gasp, but the three Archons were unmoved. The children could only nod their assent, fresh tears of frustration tracking silently down their cheeks.
Joric and a few others standing near him looked positively sick. Every last coin they had was already in Alaric's possession.
Where would they sleep for the next week? The streets?
Alaric, noticing their despair, shot Joric and his miserable companions a mocking grin. He made a show of hefting his bulging money pouch, the jingle of coins a deliberate provocation that all but screamed, What are you going to do about it?
Joric and the youths around him clenched their fists, their teeth grinding as they glared at Alaric. In their minds, they rained curses upon him and every one of his ancestors.
After enjoying their fury for another moment, Alaric turned his attention back to Leander.
"The city is perfectly safe," Leander concluded. "Nonetheless, I advise you not to wander the streets after sunset. You are free to do as you please, but be back at this gate seven days from now, at sunrise. That is all. You are dismissed."
With a final nod, Leander turned and walked through the academy gates, Gareth and Sabine following close behind. They still had a mission report to file.
The mercenaries who had guarded their caravan offered a few gruff farewells and then departed, melting into the city. Left to their own devices, the children broke off into smaller groups and began to drift away, eager to explore.
"Joric, what are we going to do?"
"That demon took everything. We have nowhere to stay."
"I heard the academy entrance fee is ten platinum pieces! How am I supposed to find that kind of money?"
"Yes! Joric, this is your fault! You have to help us!"
The complaints and accusations finally broke Joric's composure. "You idiots!" he roared. "How is this my fault?"
Seeing their anxious, frightened faces, however, his anger subsided. He let out a harsh sigh and softened his tone. "There's a Mercantile Guild here in Argentis. We can pawn our jewelry and ornaments."
A flicker of hope lit up their eyes as they all agreed. If they sold their valuables, they might just scrape together enough for the entrance fees.
As they huddled together, planning, Joric’s gaze swept the crowd for Alaric, but he was already gone. A fresh wave of hatred rose in his chest. For all the trouble you've caused me… I'll make you wish you were dead. He gnashed his teeth and then led his small, desperate band toward the Mercantile Guild.
The campus of Veridian Academy dominated the South Ward. The rest of the district was a network of taverns, inns, student housing, and a bustling market, all of which existed to serve the academy's population. In truth, the whole of the South Ward was Veridian Academy. It was a testament to the institution’s prestige that it could occupy such a vast expanse of land in the capital of the Aethelgard Kingdom.
The market district itself was situated on the banks of the River Aurei, adjacent to the docks. Ships of all sizes were moored at the harbor, their decks swarming with sailors hauling crates and barrels to and fro.
The sheer scale of the activity left Alaric stunned. His hometown had never seen a fraction of this commotion; he doubted even the capital of the Kingdom of Corvania could compare. He stared at it all, a sense of wonder washing over him.
After several minutes of simply admiring the teeming docks, he pressed into the crowd, making his way toward the deeper parts of the market. His hand was clamped firmly over his money pouch. If someone were to steal his 'hard-earned' money now, he wouldn't know whether to laugh or cry.
The market was a tapestry of life. Stalls overflowed with fresh produce harvested from human farms, while proper brick-and-mortar shops displayed weapons forged by dwarves. Alaric watched, fascinated, as merchants and customers haggled with theatrical flair. Children shrieked with laughter as they chased each other through the alleys, elders told stories to captivated listeners, and bards sang lively tunes for a handful of coins.
"It truly is the Jewel of the South," Alaric muttered with a small, genuine smile. He hadn't seen any of the continent's other great cities, but he felt certain that none in the south could rival the splendor of Argentis.
After exploring the district for the better part of an hour, he finally found what he was looking for. He stood before a shop whose entrance was framed with beautiful flowers and exotic, leafy plants. A carved wooden plaque hanging above the door announced its name.
Alaric read it aloud, "Verdant Apothecary."
He gently touched his bandaged left arm, the throb of pain a constant, nagging reminder. He had put off treating the injury for too long, and it was becoming unbearable.
He pushed the door open and walked in. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, his eyes widened.
A large, two-headed vulture shrieked, its cry a menacing rasp, and lunged straight for him.