Chapter 156 - 151: The Heart of Valenor
The moment John’s boots touched the white stone bridge, he instinctively slowed his pace.
The bridge was unlike anything he had crossed before.
Each stone had been cut with remarkable precision, fitting together so perfectly that centuries of use had left barely a crack between them. Ornate lamp posts lined both sides of the bridge, their metalwork shaped like intertwining vines. Although they were unlit beneath the morning sun, John could imagine how beautiful they would look after sunset.
The Ardent River rushed beneath them, its deep blue waters sparkling in the sunlight. Barges loaded with grain drifted toward the city’s docks, while smaller fishing boats returned with their morning catch. The river bustled almost as much as the roads.
"It feels more like entering a kingdom than a city," John said quietly.
Aerion nodded.
"That is exactly what Valenor wishes every visitor to feel."
Lythriel leaned over the bridge railing, watching one of the cargo barges glide beneath them.
"I’ve never seen ships this far inland."
"The Ardent connects almost half the kingdom," Aerion explained. "Everything from lumber to spices passes through this river."
John followed the movement of the barges.
Everything here felt interconnected.
The roads.
The river.
The merchants.
The villages they had passed.
For the first time, he could truly understand how an entire kingdom functioned.
---
As they continued across the bridge, John noticed the statues lining both sides.
Each one stood nearly twice the height of a person.
Some depicted armored knights holding swords pointed toward the sky.
Others portrayed scholars holding books or scrolls.
One statue showed an elderly woman extending a hand toward a child.
Another depicted a craftsman striking an anvil with a hammer.
John slowed before one of them.
Unlike the others, this figure carried neither weapon nor book.
Instead, he simply held a lantern.
Marcus, who was still walking beside them with his wagon, noticed his curiosity.
"First Lantern."
John looked toward him.
"Who was he?"
"No one knows his real name."
Marcus smiled.
"According to legend, he guided refugees through the mountains during the kingdom’s founding."
"He wasn’t a king."
"He wasn’t a warrior."
"He simply refused to leave anyone behind."
John studied the statue.
No elaborate armor.
No crown.
Yet his place among the kingdom’s heroes remained unquestioned.
"...That’s a nice story."
Marcus chuckled.
"Valenor has plenty of those."
---
By the time they reached the far side of the bridge, the line leading toward the city gates had grown considerably.
Fortunately, it moved steadily.
Guards directed travelers with practiced efficiency.
Some inspected wagons.
Others verified trade permits.
A few answered questions from nervous first-time visitors.
Despite the sheer number of people entering the city, there was no shouting or confusion.
Everything followed an orderly rhythm.
John quietly observed the guards.
Each wore polished steel armor beneath blue cloaks embroidered with the kingdom’s crest—a silver crown surrounded by laurel leaves.
They looked disciplined.
Professional.
Not arrogant.
One elderly woman struggled to pull a handcart loaded with vegetables toward the inspection area.
Before she could ask for help, two guards stepped forward.
"Allow us."
Together, they carefully lifted the cart over a broken section of the road before returning to their positions.
The woman thanked them repeatedly.
John couldn’t help smiling.
Lythriel noticed.
"You approve?"
"I do."
"They’re doing their job."
"And treating people well."
She nodded.
"That’s rarer than it should be."
---
Soon, it was their turn.
The same middle-aged guard who had spoken with them earlier recognized the group immediately.
"Ah."
"The scholars."
Lythriel looked at John with an amused expression.
"I think you’ve been promoted."
John sighed.
"I only said I wanted to visit a library."
The guard laughed.
"Most visitors ask where the taverns are."
"You asked about books."
"I made an assumption."
John scratched the back of his neck.
"Fair enough."
The guard handed back their visitor tokens after making a small mark on each one.
"If you’re looking for the Royal Library, head toward the Scholar’s District."
"It’s impossible to miss."
He glanced at Aerion.
"And if you need recommendations for trustworthy inns..."
He pointed down the main avenue.
"The Silver Stag."
"The owner is honest."
"Which already makes him better than half the competition."
Lythriel grinned.
"I appreciate honest recommendations."
The guard smiled.
"Enjoy your stay."
---
They finally passed beneath the massive gatehouse.
The heavy oak doors stood open, each reinforced with thick iron bands.
John looked upward.
The gatehouse towered nearly forty meters above them.
Arrow slits lined the upper levels.
Large bells hung beneath the roof.
"This place could survive a siege for months," John observed.
Aerion nodded approvingly.
"You’ve started noticing military architecture."
"I guess so."
"The Dragon King’s memories?"
John thought for a moment.
"Maybe."
"Or maybe I’m just paying more attention."
---
Then...
They stepped into Valenor.
John stopped walking.
Not because he intended to.
Because his mind needed time to process everything before him.
The main avenue stretched farther than he could comfortably see.
Unlike the narrow roads of Greenhollow, this boulevard was nearly thirty meters wide.
Stone sidewalks lined both sides.
Young trees had been planted at regular intervals, providing shade for pedestrians.
Elegant fountains decorated intersections, their crystal-clear water flowing continuously.
Buildings rose three and sometimes four stories high.
Most had white stone walls with dark timber framing.
Colorful flower boxes overflowed from nearly every window.
Large glass windows reflected the morning sunlight.
Some buildings displayed carved wooden signs.
Others hung colorful banners advertising their businesses.
Everything looked clean.
Organized.
Alive.
The sheer number of people nearly overwhelmed him.
Hundreds.
Perhaps thousands.
Merchants arranged colorful goods beneath striped awnings.
Street performers entertained gathering crowds.
Children chased one another between market stalls.
Messengers hurried through the streets carrying sealed letters.
City guards patrolled in pairs, greeting shopkeepers as they passed.
No one seemed rushed.
Yet everyone seemed busy.
"This..."
John spoke softly.
"...is incredible."
Sylvara slowly turned in a circle.
"I’ve never seen so many flowers."
Indeed, nearly every balcony overflowed with colorful blossoms.
Red.
Blue.
White.
Purple.
Entire buildings seemed decorated by living gardens.
"It makes the city feel warmer," she said.
"It does," John agreed.
---
Marcus guided his wagon toward a side street.
"This is where we part ways."
John looked toward him.
"Thank you."
"For everything."
The merchant waved dismissively.
"I only answered a few questions."
"You made our first day easier."
Marcus smiled warmly.
"If fate is kind..."
"Our paths will cross again."
John extended his hand.
"I hope so."
Marcus shook it firmly.
"Then until next time."
With a flick of the reins, his wagon disappeared into the flow of city traffic.
Lythriel watched him go.
"I like him."
"So do I."
---
The four companions remained standing near the entrance for several more moments.
John’s eyes continued wandering from one building to another.
There was simply too much to take in.
Every street seemed to promise another discovery.
Every alley hinted at another story.
The Soul Raven landed quietly on a nearby stone post.
Its ancient golden eyes swept across the city.
"...Much has changed."
John looked toward it.
"You’ve been here before?"
"Long ago."
"Before these walls reached their current height."
"Before half these districts existed."
Aerion looked mildly surprised.
"You’ve seen Valenor grow?"
"I have watched kingdoms rise."
"It would be strange if I had not witnessed one city expanding."
John smiled.
Sometimes...
He forgot just how ancient the guardian truly was.
The Soul Raven gazed toward the distant palace rising above the city.
"...Yet some things remain exactly where I remember them."
John followed its gaze.
High above the rooftops...
Standing on the highest hill within Valenor...
Was a magnificent palace of white marble and blue crystal roofs, shining beneath the afternoon sun.
Even from this distance...
It dominated the skyline.
John couldn’t help but wonder...
What kind of people lived behind those walls.
And whether his own path would eventually lead there.
John stood silently for another moment, his eyes fixed on the palace that overlooked the capital.
It wasn’t simply large.
There was a quiet dignity to it.
The white marble reflected the afternoon sunlight, while the deep blue roofs shimmered like calm water. Tall towers rose from each corner of the palace grounds, their banners fluttering proudly in the breeze.
It was beautiful.
Yet...
John found his attention drifting away from it.
The palace represented power.
The streets below represented life.
That was where his curiosity truly lay.
---
"So?"
Lythriel folded her arms.
"What’s the plan now?"
John blinked.
"The plan?"
"Don’t tell me you forgot."
"You’ve been staring at buildings for the last five minutes."
"I have not."
Sylvara smiled mischievously.
"It was closer to seven."
John coughed awkwardly.
"...I may have been distracted."
Aerion folded his map before putting it back into his satchel.
"Our priorities remain the same."
He raised a finger.
"First."
"We find lodging."
"Second."
"We familiarize ourselves with the nearby streets."
"Third."
"We visit the Royal Library tomorrow."
John nodded without complaint.
He wanted to visit the library immediately, but he understood Aerion’s reasoning.
Rushing into an unfamiliar city was rarely wise.
---
They followed the broad avenue deeper into Valenor.
As they walked, John noticed the remarkable cleanliness of the streets.
City workers swept the stone pavement with long brooms while others carefully watered flower beds growing along the sidewalks.
Not far away, a pair of masons repaired loose paving stones.
No one ignored them.
People simply walked around them naturally, thanking them as they passed.
John smiled.
"They take good care of the city."
Aerion nodded.
"A capital reflects its kingdom."
"If these streets were neglected..."
"Visitors would assume the kingdom itself was declining."
John looked around again.
Everywhere he looked, people were working.
Some sold goods.
Some delivered cargo.
Some maintained buildings.
Everyone had a role.
---
The architecture gradually changed as they continued.
The residential district gave way to an area filled with workshops.
The rhythmic sound of hammers striking metal echoed through the streets.
John turned toward the noise.
An entire avenue was lined with blacksmiths.
Weapons hung outside one shop.
Armor stood displayed in front of another.
Farther along, craftsmen shaped wooden furniture while glassblowers created colorful ornaments inside glowing workshops.
The smell of hot iron mixed with freshly cut timber.
Lythriel’s eyes wandered from shop to shop.
"I could spend hours here."
John laughed.
"I thought you’d say that about the bakery."
"I can like both."
---
One particular forge caught John’s attention.
Unlike the others, it displayed no weapons in its window.
Instead...
Its shelves held farming tools.
Cooking knives.
Horseshoes.
Axes.
Simple things.
An elderly blacksmith worked patiently behind the counter while a young apprentice pumped the bellows.
The old man noticed John watching.
"Looking for a sword?"
John shook his head.
"No."
"I was just curious."
The blacksmith smiled.
"Most visitors ignore my shop."
"They head straight for enchanted weapons."
He picked up a finished shovel.
"But kingdoms aren’t built with swords alone."
John nodded thoughtfully.
"They’re built with this."
The blacksmith chuckled.
"Exactly."
"A farmer feeds more people than a soldier ever could."
John found himself liking the old craftsman immediately.
It reminded him of Harvin back in Greenhollow.
Different city.
Different forge.
The same honest pride in one’s work.
---
After leaving the craftsmen’s district, the streets opened into a large public square.
John instinctively slowed.
At the center stood an enormous fountain carved from white stone.
Water flowed gracefully from the hands of four statues representing the seasons.
Children laughed as they chased one another around the fountain while their parents rested on nearby benches.
Musicians performed beneath the shade of tall maple trees.
Artists displayed paintings along one side of the square.
Several scholars debated loudly beside a monument, completely oblivious to everyone else.
Lythriel blinked.
"...They’re arguing over books."
Aerion glanced toward them.
"They’ve probably been arguing for hours."
"You don’t want to know what they’re discussing?"
"I already know."
"You do?"
"They’re debating whether an explorer exaggerated his journey beyond the Northern Peaks."
John stared.
"...How do you know that?"
Aerion calmly adjusted his sleeve.
"I participated in the same debate."
"...When?"
"About ninety years ago."
Silence.
Lythriel slowly turned toward him.
"...You’re joking."
"I am not."
John rubbed his forehead.
"I keep forgetting how old you are."
"So do most people."
---
The Soul Raven, perched atop a nearby fountain, let out what sounded suspiciously like amusement.
"You are still young."
Aerion looked toward the bird.
"I’ve lived longer than most kingdoms."
The raven replied calmly,
"I said what I said."
Lythriel burst into laughter.
"I can’t believe the bird just called you young."
Even Aerion allowed himself a small smile.
"It appears I deserved that."
---
They continued exploring without any particular destination.
For once...
There was no urgent mission.
No monster to hunt.
No ruins to investigate.
John simply wanted to experience the city.
They passed bookstores with shelves visible through large windows.
Tailors displaying finely embroidered cloaks.
Tea houses where elderly patrons quietly played board games.
Bakeries filled with the smell of warm bread and sweet pastries.
Sylvara suddenly stopped walking.
Her eyes had locked onto a nearby flower shop.
Buckets filled with roses, lilies, sunflowers, and dozens of flowers John couldn’t name stood outside beneath a striped awning.
"They’re beautiful..."
The elderly woman tending the shop smiled warmly.
"Feel free to look."
Sylvara carefully examined each arrangement like someone admiring precious gems.
John watched quietly.
"You really like flowers."
She nodded.
"They remind me that beautiful things don’t need to be powerful."
John smiled.
"I’ve never thought about it that way."
The florist selected a single pale blue flower before offering it to Sylvara.
"For your smile."
Sylvara’s eyes widened.
"I..."
"I can’t accept—"
"Nonsense."
The elderly woman gently placed the flower into her hands.
"A flower only fulfills its purpose when someone appreciates it."
Sylvara bowed gratefully.
"...Thank you."
As they resumed walking, Lythriel leaned closer to John.
"...People keep giving us things."
John laughed.
"I’ve noticed."
"I think we’re meeting unusually kind people."
Aerion quietly shook his head.
"Kindness attracts kindness."
Neither John nor Lythriel answered immediately.
Perhaps...
There was some truth in those words.
---
Eventually, the afternoon sun began to sink lower.
Long shadows stretched across the streets as merchants started organizing their stalls for the evening.
John looked toward Aerion.
"We should probably find that inn."
Aerion nodded.
"It’s only a few streets ahead."
After another ten minutes of walking, they turned onto a quieter avenue.
A polished wooden sign swayed gently above a three-story stone building.
A silver stag stood proudly beneath an oak tree.
"The Silver Stag," Aerion said.
"The guard recommended this place."
Warm light spilled from the windows despite the daylight outside.
Flower boxes decorated each balcony.
The building looked elegant without being extravagant.
John smiled.
"I like it already."
They stepped inside.
The common room was lively but not crowded.
A fireplace crackled warmly despite the pleasant weather.
Travelers chatted over dinner while a young woman carried plates between the tables.
Behind the counter stood a broad-shouldered man polishing a mug.
His graying beard and calm expression gave him an approachable appearance.
He looked up as they entered.
"Welcome to the Silver Stag."
His eyes briefly swept over the four travelers before smiling.
"Long journey?"
John returned the smile.
"You could say that."
"Then you’ve come to the right place."
The innkeeper placed the mug aside.
"My name is Roland."
"If you’re looking for clean rooms, good meals, and an honest price..."
He folded his arms proudly.
"...I believe you’ll leave satisfied."
John glanced toward Aerion.
The elf gave a nearly invisible nod.
This was the place.
For the next few days...
The Silver Stag would become their home within the capital.
Outside, Valenor continued to bustle beneath the golden light of the setting sun.
Tomorrow, John would visit the Royal Library.
Tomorrow, he would begin searching for answers about the Dragon King’s legacy.
But tonight...
For the first time since arriving in the kingdom’s capital...
He simply wanted to rest.
Because he had a feeling...
His peaceful days of exploration were about to come to an end.
---
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