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Translator: CinderTL
Sensing the faint yet unmistakable pressure emanating from the duke—a presence no less imposing than Graham's—Roland instinctively tensed.
Unlike other nobles who merely exchanged pleasantries before departing, Arno turned his warhorse, the powerful steed becoming as docile as a house cat under his control.
"Since we've met by chance, allow me to personally escort you into the royal capital," he announced, his smile remaining warm and inviting. "This will give you a taste of the grandeur and hospitality at the heart of the Golden Valley Kingdom."
His offer brooked no refusal, and no one could decline the personal escort of a duke with real power.
Thus, the traveling scholars resumed their journey, accompanied by Duke Arno and his elite guard, advancing toward the gray behemoth looming on the horizon.
As they approached the royal capital, the city's imposing presence grew ever more palpable. The towering city walls, constructed from massive granite blocks, seemed to stretch to the heavens. Weather-worn yet indestructible, their surfaces bore the mottled marks of centuries past.
On the battlements, the Royal Family's golden grain banner and the heraldic flags of various noble houses snapped in the wind. Guards in gleaming armor stood like statues, their sharp eyes scanning the road leading to the massive city gate below.
The gate stood wide open, but heavily armed guards flanked both sides, meticulously inspecting the steady stream of people, carriages, and horses entering and exiting.
Yet, where Duke Arno's party passed, all obstacles vanished as if by magic.
The guards, upon spotting the griffin crest—and especially when they recognized Duke Arno himself on horseback—immediately straightened their postures, slammed their spears against the stone pavement in a gesture of utmost respect, and swiftly cleared a central passage.
Commoners and merchants alike retreated to the sides, bowing their heads in awe and whispering the duke's name.
"Please, esteemed guests from afar," Duke Arno said, turning slightly to gesture elegantly toward the River Domain Nations delegation behind him. His face radiated the pride and graciousness of a host. "Welcome to the glorious heart of the Golden Valley Kingdom—Golden Grain City."
The crisp echo of hooves on the cobblestone road filled the air as the party passed through the deep gate archway, officially entering the royal capital.
The scene before them instantly transformed into a bustling, vibrant spectacle.
On either side of the wide main thoroughfare stood rows of stone buildings, their shop signs a dazzling array of colors and styles. Crowds jostled shoulder to shoulder, their voices a cacophony of accents as merchants hawked their wares, customers haggled, and carriage wheels rumbled over the cobblestones, creating a lively urban symphony.
The air was thick with the complex aroma of freshly baked bread, spices, leather, and a faint hint of magical potions.
Yet beneath this veneer of prosperity, Roland keenly noticed that the number of guards patrolling the streets far exceeded the usual deployment for a city of this size. Their eyes were sharper, their equipment more advanced. In the shadows of key street corners, inconspicuous figures seemed to be silently observing the flow of people.
Duke Arno, seemingly oblivious to these undercurrents, rode ahead at a leisurely pace, occasionally pointing out landmarks with enthusiasm.
"That's the Royal Grand Library, housing an immense collection of books. To the left is the Alchemists' Guild Headquarters, where most of our nation's alchemical achievements originate. And that distant High Tower was recently commissioned by His Majesty Monen himself to house magical talents seeking refuge in our country..."
His introduction was impeccable, embodying the dignified bearing of a lord who took pride in his kingdom.
The party finally halted before an imposing posthouse inn, its facade adorned with the emblems of the River Domain Nations.
Clearly, the inn had been notified in advance and prepared accommodations for their arrival.
"You must be weary from your journey. Please rest well here today," Duke Arno said warmly to Reggie and the students, reining in his horse.
"The royal palace has prepared a formal welcome banquet for you all. I look forward to seeing you there."
After exchanging a few more pleasantries and instructing the inn officials to ensure their guests' comfort, he turned and departed with his silent, elite cavalry escort.
His tall figure soon vanished at the end of the bustling street in the royal capital.
The inn's gate closed behind them, muffling the clamor of the outside world.
Roland stood by the window in his inn room, trying to unravel the inexplicable unease Arno had stirred within him. But his thoughts were like wisps of mist, eluding any firm grasp.
The duke's demeanor was flawless: warm, powerful, and approachable—an impeccable host.
Could that fleeting, icy gaze and momentary scrutiny simply be the unconscious manifestation of his status as a powerful transcendent and iron-fisted lord?
"Alright, listen up!" Instructor Reggie's voice boomed across the hall, interrupting Roland's thoughts.
"Before the banquet begins, you're free to explore the royal capital. But remember, you must return before sunset. Causing trouble is strictly forbidden. Understood?"
"Yes, Instructor!" the students replied in unison, their faces alight with excitement.
"Roland!"
Galvis practically bounced over, his eyes sparkling.
"The 'Seven-Stringed Lyre' tavern here is the gathering place for bards from across the kingdom! I had some fascinating encounters there last time, and I'm definitely going back!"
As he spoke, his fingers couldn't resist plucking at the air.
Meanwhile, Theresa nodded quietly. Her objective was far more focused.
"I've checked," the Silver-Haired Woman said, her voice cool and clear as her gaze swept across the street. "The Central Market has three food streets and a dessert shop run by a former Court Pastry Chef."
For her, exploring a new city meant mapping its flavors, far more important than geographical coordinates.
"I won't be joining you," Roland said, shaking his head. He had little interest in taverns or food streets. "I plan to visit the Alchemists' Guild."
He recalled the building Duke Arno had casually pointed out on their journey—the Guild Headquarters. With his unique ability, taste synesthesia, he might find useful potions there. Analyzing their ingredients and reverse-engineering the formulas could significantly enhance his abilities.
After parting ways with Galvis and Theresa at the posthouse inn, each with their own objectives, Roland followed his memory toward the Alchemists' Guild.
The Guild Headquarters was an ancient stone structure, imposing and austere. Above the main entrance, an intricate emblem depicted flasks, tubes, and elemental symbols.
The air was thick with an unusual blend of scents: the bitter tang of medicinal herbs, the sharp metallic tang of minerals, and the faint, fluctuating energy signatures emanating from various magical materials.
Yet the grand entrance of Guild Headquarters was far from deserted.
On the contrary, it was more heavily guarded than any ordinary street.
Dozens of guards in finely crafted armor, draped in cloaks bearing the golden tassel crest of the Royal Family, stood in formation on either side of the entrance. Their hands rested on their sword hilts, their hawk-like gazes sweeping the surroundings, silently demarcating a restricted area.
Their presence instinctively deterred ordinary Alchemists and apprentices from approaching, causing them to either detour or observe curiously from a distance.
Clearly, someone of immense status was inside the guild.
Roland halted, wisely deciding not to test the guards' vigilance for now.
He retreated to a stall across the street selling rare medicinal herbs, patiently waiting for the VIP to depart.
Before long, the heavy wooden doors were respectfully pushed open from within by two attendants.
The guards stationed at the entrance immediately straightened their backs, their hands gripping their sword hilts tightly, every muscle coiled in anticipation.
First to emerge was a middle-aged woman dressed in the formal attire of a court official, her expression meticulously composed as she swiftly scanned the scene outside the gate.
Only then did the protagonist appear: a young woman.
She wore a dark blue riding-style dress, tailored for both elegance and practicality, the fabric gleaming with a luxurious sheen in the evening sun.
Her radiant golden hair was intricately braided, striking a perfect balance between regal dignity and effortless grace.
Her face was as exquisitely refined as a meticulously crafted porcelain doll, her azure eyes clear and bright.
Yet her delicate brows were now slightly furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if she had just concluded a tense negotiation. A faint trace of unease and urgency lingered between her brows.
Most striking was the small yet unmistakable golden emblem of a wheat ear, inlaid with a flawlessly cut diamond, pinned to her chest.
It was identical to the Royal Family's banner fluttering atop the city wall.
(End of the Chapter)
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