Chapter 155 - 150: The Gates of Valenor
The first rays of dawn slowly crept across the eastern horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and gold.
The campsite, which had been filled with quiet conversations and crackling campfires the previous evening, was already stirring with activity.
Merchants folded their tents with practiced efficiency while hired guards inspected wagon wheels and tightened harnesses on their horses. The smell of breakfast drifted through the cool morning air as iron pots hung over small fires, cooking porridge, soup, and freshly baked flatbread.
John opened his eyes to the familiar sounds.
For a moment, he remained lying on his bedroll, listening.
It was different from Greenhollow.
Back there, mornings began with birdsong, the ringing of the village blacksmith’s hammer, and the laughter of children running through the streets.
Here...
Everything felt purposeful.
Everyone was preparing for the road.
For business.
For another destination.
He slowly sat up and stretched his arms above his head.
"...Morning already."
Nearby, Lythriel was still wrapped inside her blanket, only one eye visible.
"...Five more minutes."
John laughed quietly.
"You’ve said that every morning."
"And one day it’ll work."
"I admire your optimism."
She pulled the blanket over her face.
"I admire my optimism too."
Across the campsite, Sylvara was already awake, carefully brushing her long silver hair while watching the sunrise over the distant hills.
Aerion sat beneath an old oak tree with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other.
John wasn’t entirely convinced the elf had actually slept.
"You’ve been awake for a while?"
Aerion turned a page.
"I never required much sleep."
"I’ve noticed."
The Soul Raven landed silently on a nearby branch.
"The elf slept."
John looked surprised.
"He did?"
"For three hours."
Aerion calmly sipped his tea.
"A luxury."
Lythriel groaned beneath her blanket.
"...Three hours isn’t sleep."
"It is."
"It absolutely isn’t."
Aerion looked genuinely confused.
"It has always worked for me."
John couldn’t help smiling.
The conversations during quiet mornings had become one of his favorite parts of traveling.
---
After breakfast, the campsite gradually emptied.
One by one, wagons rolled back onto the road.
Within half an hour, only a handful of travelers remained.
John tightened the straps on his backpack before looking toward Aerion.
"So..."
"How far?"
Aerion folded his map.
"If we maintain a steady pace..."
"We’ll reach Valenor before noon."
John’s eyes shifted toward the northeastern horizon.
Although the city itself was still hidden behind rolling hills, knowing it was so close filled him with an unfamiliar feeling.
Anticipation.
He had visited villages.
Ruins.
Ancient forests.
Hidden realms.
But never a true capital.
Never a place where thousands of people lived together.
Never somewhere that could hold answers about the Dragon King’s legacy.
Lythriel noticed the thoughtful expression on his face.
"Nervous?"
John considered the question.
"...Maybe."
She blinked.
"I honestly wasn’t expecting that answer."
"Neither was I."
He smiled.
"I guess this place feels important."
Aerion nodded.
"It is."
"Valenor has stood for nearly eight centuries."
"It survived wars."
"Famines."
"Monster invasions."
"Political upheaval."
"It has become the cultural and scholarly heart of this kingdom."
John quietly listened.
The more Aerion spoke...
The more curious he became.
---
The road became noticeably wider as the morning passed.
Stone replaced packed earth beneath their feet.
Tall oak trees lined both sides of the highway, offering welcome shade from the growing warmth of the sun.
Traffic steadily increased.
Merchant caravans traveled in long lines.
Some wagons carried grain.
Others transported timber.
Several were loaded with fine cloth protected beneath waterproof coverings.
Groups of adventurers walked in the opposite direction, laughing loudly as they returned from completed jobs.
One heavily armored dwarf raised a hand as they passed.
"Heading into the city?"
John nodded.
"First time."
The dwarf grinned.
"Then prepare yourself."
"For what?"
"The markets."
Lythriel looked confused.
"The markets?"
The dwarf laughed.
"My wife said we’d stop for one hour."
He pointed toward an exhausted-looking man following behind him, carrying several overflowing bags.
"...We stayed for three days."
The weary man sighed.
"I still don’t understand how we bought six carpets."
The dwarf shrugged helplessly.
"I stopped asking."
Even Aerion smiled.
After exchanging farewells, the group continued onward.
Lythriel looked at John.
"...Should we be worried?"
"I think we should hide our money."
Sylvara giggled.
---
By midmorning...
The hills gradually flattened.
The trees became less dense.
Then...
The road curved gently around a large hill.
John stopped walking.
"So that’s why we couldn’t see it."
The others followed his gaze.
There...
Standing proudly beneath the clear blue sky...
Was Valenor.
Unlike yesterday’s distant silhouette...
The city now dominated the landscape.
Massive white walls surrounded it like the embrace of a giant.
Dozens of towers rose proudly above the battlements, each topped with fluttering blue-and-gold banners that danced in the morning breeze.
Sunlight reflected off countless glass windows inside the city, making parts of it shimmer like jewels.
Several cathedral spires reached even higher, their polished rooftops gleaming brilliantly beneath the sun.
Beyond the walls, John could just make out districts spreading across gentle hills.
Some buildings were enormous.
Others looked no larger than village homes.
Together...
They formed a city unlike anything he had imagined.
Sylvara unconsciously stepped closer.
"...It’s beautiful."
Lythriel slowly let out a whistle.
"I thought the stories were exaggerating."
"They weren’t."
Aerion smiled faintly.
"Most people react exactly like that."
John remained silent.
No description he had ever heard...
Could truly prepare someone for seeing Valenor with their own eyes.
The city wasn’t simply large.
It felt...
Alive.
And somewhere beyond those towering walls...
The next Chapter of his journey was waiting.
For several long moments...
No one spoke.
The road continued downhill toward the capital, and from where they stood, they could finally appreciate just how enormous the city truly was.
It wasn’t only the walls.
Outside Valenor stretched an entire network of life that depended on the capital.
Golden fields spread across the plains, divided by stone irrigation channels that carried water from the great river flowing beside the city. Farmers worked diligently despite the growing morning heat, while windmills slowly turned in the breeze.
Smaller villages surrounded the capital like stars around a moon.
Some specialized in farming.
Others in livestock.
John even spotted a quarry farther west, where dozens of workers chipped away at pale gray stone that was likely used to repair the city’s walls and buildings.
"It’s like an entire world gathered around one place," John murmured.
Aerion nodded.
"A city cannot survive by itself."
"It depends on every village around it."
"The grain from those farms feeds its people."
"The timber from the forests builds its homes."
"The iron from nearby mines becomes tools, armor, and weapons."
He looked toward the bustling roads below.
"And in return..."
"The city provides trade, knowledge, protection, and opportunity."
John watched dozens of wagons moving along the roads.
Now that he looked carefully...
Almost every caravan carried something different.
Some transported sacks of grain.
Others were loaded with barrels, crates, lumber, cloth, pottery, or livestock.
Nothing moved without purpose.
Everything was connected.
Greenhollow suddenly felt much closer in his mind.
Perhaps some of the grain growing below them had once passed through that little village.
Perhaps some merchant they had met on the road traded there every season.
The world wasn’t made of isolated places.
It was woven together.
---
Lythriel rested her hands behind her head.
"So..."
"What happens after we enter?"
Aerion answered almost immediately.
"First, we’ll find an inn."
John looked disappointed.
"I thought you were going to say the library."
"The library will still be there tomorrow."
"The beds may not."
John couldn’t argue with that.
Sylvara smiled.
"I think I’d like to wash before exploring."
Lythriel immediately pointed toward herself.
"I second that."
John looked down at his traveling clothes.
"...Actually..."
"I think we all need one."
The four of them laughed.
Weeks of traveling had left their cloaks dusty despite their efforts to keep themselves clean.
---
As they continued down the hill, the road merged with another major highway.
Traffic immediately doubled.
A long caravan from the south slowly rolled ahead of them.
Each wagon carried beautifully carved wooden furniture protected beneath thick cloth coverings.
Walking beside one of the wagons was a cheerful merchant with a magnificent curled mustache.
He smiled as the four travelers approached.
"First visit?"
John blinked.
"Is it really that obvious?"
The merchant laughed.
"You’ve stopped to admire the city three times in the last fifteen minutes."
Lythriel looked at John.
"...Have you?"
John rubbed the back of his neck.
"I didn’t notice."
"I did," she replied with a grin.
The merchant extended his hand.
"Marcus."
"Furniture merchant."
"John."
After everyone introduced themselves, Marcus looked proudly toward the capital.
"I’ve been coming here every month for almost twenty years."
"And?"
John asked.
"Do you ever get tired of seeing it?"
Marcus looked genuinely surprised by the question.
"Tired?"
He turned back toward Valenor.
"Not once."
"Every season the city changes."
"New shops open."
"Old buildings are restored."
"Different performers arrive."
"Different festivals."
"There is always something new waiting."
His smile widened.
"I’ve visited hundreds of cities."
"But Valenor..."
"It never feels the same twice."
John quietly stored those words away.
---
They walked together for nearly half an hour.
Marcus proved to be an excellent storyteller.
He pointed toward different parts of the city visible in the distance.
"The western district is where most craftsmen live."
"The eastern side has the largest open market in the kingdom."
"See those tall towers?"
John followed his finger.
Several elegant towers rose above the surrounding buildings.
"The Royal Academy."
"Some of the greatest scholars in the continent study there."
John couldn’t hide the curiosity in his eyes.
"The academy..."
Marcus noticed immediately.
"You like books?"
John laughed.
"I’ve been told I do."
"Then prepare yourself."
"The Royal Library has more books than most nobles could read in three lifetimes."
Lythriel looked at John’s face before bursting into laughter.
"Oh no."
Marcus looked confused.
"What?"
"He has that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says he’s already forgotten we’re walking."
John blinked.
"I was listening."
"Barely."
Even Aerion chuckled quietly.
---
The road eventually reached the banks of the Ardent River.
John instinctively slowed.
The river was unlike the Silverstream near Greenhollow.
Silverstream had been peaceful.
Gentle.
This river...
Was magnificent.
Its waters were hundreds of meters wide, flowing swiftly beneath the morning sun.
Large cargo barges traveled along its surface, carrying goods toward the capital’s river docks.
Several fishing boats worked closer to the shore.
Farther downstream, John could even make out a massive waterwheel turning steadily beside a mill.
"So this is what supplies the city," he said softly.
Aerion nodded.
"The Ardent River is one of the kingdom’s greatest blessings."
"It provides water."
"Trade."
"Food."
"And a natural defensive barrier."
Marcus smiled proudly.
"My furniture usually arrives faster by river than by road."
---
Soon...
The enormous bridge leading toward Valenor came into view.
Unlike the modest wooden bridge in Greenhollow, this one was an incredible feat of engineering.
Built entirely from white stone, it stretched gracefully across the river in a series of wide arches.
Statues lined both sides of the bridge.
Knights.
Scholars.
Kings.
Explorers.
Each carved with remarkable detail.
People crossed constantly in both directions.
Merchants.
Pilgrims.
Travelers.
Nobles.
Children holding their parents’ hands.
John couldn’t help stopping again.
"...It’s incredible."
Marcus laughed warmly.
"You’ve got the same expression I had twenty years ago."
John smiled without taking his eyes off the bridge.
"I don’t think pictures could ever do this justice."
"No."
"They can’t."
The steady hum of thousands of lives echoed from the city beyond.
For the first time since leaving Greenhollow...
John truly felt like he was standing at the threshold of something much bigger than himself.
And with one final look at the sprawling capital ahead...
He stepped forward onto the bridge leading into Valenor.