Later, we step outside into the cool evening air. It's my first night in this fantasy world, and I have to admit—I like it. Gone are the blinding city lights, the constant roar of traffic, and the unending hustle and stress of modern life. Instead, the night is filled with the gentle hum of life in Mistvale.
This town is small yet lively, nestled within the Löwenberg Duchy, part of the greater Kingdom of Eldenwald.
Though it isn't the biggest city, it's famous for its stunning landscapes, abundant natural resources, and beginner-friendly dungeons that attract tourists and adventurers alike. People co from all over—so to vacation, so to trade, and many to try their luck in the dungeons.
With so many travelers passing through, the Gilded Horn is never empty. Situated in the heart of the bustling market and adventurer district, it's always packed and business is booming.
As we step further into the streets, the vibrant energy of Mistvale sweeps over us. Humans and Furren bustle past, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. Carriages and carts rumble over cobblestone streets, but not all are pulled by horses. So are led by massive, feathered birds, their talons clacking rhythmically against the stone.
I blink in fascination. "Eris, what are those big birds?" I ask, eyes wide with curiosity.
They're chubby, with tiny wings tucked against their plump bodies. They definitely can't fly. But their legs are emarkably fast. Despite their bulk, they move shockingly well, weaving through the crowded streets.
Eris grins, her tail flicking in excitent. "Oh, those are Filoan birds," she says proudly. "Cute, aren't they? I'd love to have one of my own soday—I'm actually saving up for one."
Wait. Filoan birds?
My stomach drops. I gasp, my ears twitching with realization. "WAIT, FILOAN BIRDS?! DIDN'T WE JUST EAT THEM?!?"
Eris blinks before bursting into laughter.
"Pfffft—yeah! We totally did!"
OH MY GOD.
The mory is still fresh.
I can still taste it in my mind—the crispy, golden skin, the tender, juicy at...
But now that I'm looking at them—
Their legs are SO MUCH BIGGER than the drumsticks we ate at the Gilded Horn!
"B-but... how?!?" I hug my head, slightly horrified.
I suddenly feel horribly guilty for eating them.
I an... look at them!
They're so plump. So goofy. So oddly adorable.
But at the sa ti—
Aaaaaaaa.
They were so delicious.
I'm so conflicted!!!!
But luckily, Eris shakes her head, chuckling.
"Haha, of course not, I was just kidding!" she says, amused. "These guys are also called Filoan birds, but they're not the sa ones! The ones we ate are wild Filoan. But these here? They're dosticated, mostly used to pull carts, but so people raise them as pets. They're surprisingly intelligent and can even be trained to guard hos or deliver ssages."
"Oooooooh!" I exclaim, eyes wide with wonder.
That's a relief.
I was not ready to deal with the moral crisis of having just devoured soone's pet.
Eris gestures around, her tail swishing. "So, as you can see, this district never really sleeps."
I glance around, taking in the scene. "Yup, it sure doesn't!"
The street is narrow but packed, bursting with food vendors, taverns, and inns, all catering to adventurers and travelers at all hours. Even though I just ate, the air is thick with mouthwatering aromas—grilled ats sizzling over open flas, the warm, buttery scent of freshly baked bread, the sugary fragrance of pastries dusted with cinnamon.
It makes wish I hadn't stuffed myself earlier.
As we walk, I take a mont to admire the architecture. The buildings have a distinctly dieval European feel—stone walls, wooden beams, and steep, sloping roofs, their chimneys releasing thin trails of smoke into the crisp night air. The streets are lined with cobblestones, each uneven stone glistening faintly under the flickering glow of tall iron street lamps.
The town feels lived-in, its charm rough around the edges. There's a bit of litter here and there—discarded food scraps left behind by the bustling crowds—but overall, it's cleaner than I expected. I even notice a sewage system running along the road, with workers diligently clearing debris to keep the drains from clogging.
A group of knights clad in gleaming armor patrols the area, their movents steady and authoritative. Their chestplates bear the crest of a roaring lion's head—the symbol of the Löwenberg Knights Order.
Eris leans in slightly and murmurs, "They're responsible for keeping the peace in Mistvale."
I nod, watching as they walk past, their polished armor catching the candlelight from the street lamps. They certainly look impressive—strong, disciplined, and well-equipped. It's a reassuring sight, considering the kind of people I encountered earlier today.
A cool gust of wind rushes through the street, brushing against my skin, carrying the faint scent of smoke and spices. I instinctively tug my cloak tighter around , grateful for its warmth. Underneath, my simple white dress doesn't offer much protection from the evening chill, but the cloak does a good job of keeping comfortable.
As I adjust it, Eris glances at .
"Felicia, stay close to ," she says gently, her golden eyes flicking toward mine.
I nod, stepping just a little closer to her side.
The street is crowded, and the flow of people is relentless, carts creaking, boots scuffing against stone, voices overlapping in a constant murmur of conversation. It wouldn't take much to get separated.
After a brief pause, Eris tilts her head and suggests, "Actually... hold my hand."
I hesitate for a mont... then reach out.
Our fingers intertwine, and for so reason, a strange ache tugs at my chest.
It's subtle, but it's there. Unfamiliar, yet familiar all at once.
Her hand is warm—much warr than mine. Her callused fingers brush against my skin, their roughness contrasting the gentle way she holds . Her grip is firm yet reassuring, steadying in a way I didn't even realize I needed.
And just like that, we walk hand in hand through the vibrant streets of Mistvale, the pulse of the city thrumming all around us.
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