The dragon never returned.
Days passed. Then weeks.
The road stretched endlessly ahead of us, winding through forests, hills, and villages that blurred together in my memory. The initial shock of what I had seen never truly faded, but it settled deeper, becoming something quieter and heavier.
Patrick changed after that day.
It wasn't obvious. He still spoke calmly, still laughed when Melinda teased him, still held me when she needed to rest. But I felt it. The way his eyes lingered on the sky a little longer. The way his hand never strayed far from his sword. The way conversations lowered when they thought I was asleep.
- He shouldn't have been there,- Patrick muttered one night as the carriage rolled onward.
- There's no record of one passing through this region recently,- Melinda replied. - Not this close to the road.-
- Which means we don't know where it came from,- he said quietly. - Or where it was going.-
That unease lingered between them like an unspoken third presence.
And yet… it didn't consume them.
Because of me.
The moment the tension threatened to take hold, I would press my face against the carriage window, waving my arms clumsily, kicking my feet, laughing in broken, delighted sounds whenever the road curved or birds took flight.
To them, it must have looked adorable.
To me, it was euphoria.
A dragon. A real dragon.
How could I not be excited?
I babbled endlessly, danced in my seat, and smacked the glass with tiny hands whenever something caught my attention. Every tree, every hill, every passing traveler felt like proof that I wasn't dreaming.
Melinda laughed often during those moments, her worry melting away. Patrick would shake his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
- At least he's fearless,- Melinda said once.
Or ignorant, I thought.
But maybe… that wasn't such a bad thing.
The days on the road taught me many things. About patience. About distance. About how small the world felt when measured in footsteps and wheels rather than maps and screens.
Then, one morning, everything changed.
I noticed it before anyone said a word.
The road widened. Stone replaced dirt. Towers appeared on the horizon first one, then many. Walls rose higher than anything I had seen before, massive and layered, bristling with banners and watchtowers.
The air felt different again. Heavier. Denser.
The carriage slowed.
Melinda followed my gaze and smiled softly. - We're here, Richard, Valcarys.-
Here.
As we drew closer, the scale of it became impossible to ignore.
The city was enormous.
Far larger than the main city of the Ayer territory. Its walls alone dwarfed entire districts back home, and at its center, rising like a mountain shaped by human hands, stood a castle so vast it commanded the skyline itself.
White stone, reinforced towers, spires that pierced the clouds.
A capital.
There was no other word for it.
People flooded the roads, now merchants, nobles, soldiers, travelers from places I didn't recognize. Languages overlapped. Colors clashed. Magic shimmered openly here, woven casually into daily life.
This wasn't just another city.
This was the heart of the world.
I felt it deep in my chest, a quiet understanding settling into place.
Whatever my future held, a knight, something else entirely, it would lead me here again.
I didn't know why.
But standing at the gates of the capital, cradled in my mother's arms while my father watched the world with sharpened eyes, I knew one thing with certainty:
My new life had truly begun.
The carriage passed through the gates just after dawn.
Richard pressed his face against the window, breath fogging the glass as the capital unfolded before him. It was nothing like the cities of his previous world nor even like Ayer's main city. This place breathed differently. Lived differently.
The streets were wide and alive, overflowing with motion and sound. People moved in every direction, voices overlapping in accents and tones he didn't recognize. Some were tall and slender, their ears long and sharp leaves, he realized. Others were broad and heavy-set, with thick beards and sturdy frames, their steps heavy against the stone dwarfs.
And then some weren't entirely human.
Beastmen walked openly through the streets, ears flicking, tails swaying behind them without shame or fear. Their clothes were adapted to their bodies, their movements confident, practiced. No one stared. No one whispered.
This wasn't diversity forced together.
It was coexistence.
Buildings reflected it too. Roofs curved in unfamiliar ways, windows carved with symbols Richard didn't understand. Some structures were tall and elegant, others compact and reinforced, built more for strength than beauty. Cultures layered atop one another, not perfectly blended, but unmistakably connected.
Even the smells were different. Spices are sharp and sweet, metal and oil, unfamiliar foods cooking openly in the streets. The capital felt… lived in. Not polished for appearances, but shaped by countless hands over centuries.
Richard felt small.
Not in fear but in awe.
This world wasn't hiding what it was.
The carriage moved deeper into the city, the noise slowly fading as the streets widened and guards became more frequent. Armor replaced cloth. Banners replaced shop signs. Stone walls rose higher, cleaner, colder.
Patrick straightened. Melinda's voice softened as she pulled Richard closer to her chest.
Ahead, the castle dominated everything.
Up close, it was even larger than it had seemed from afar. Towers of pale stone reached skyward, walls layered and reinforced, magic faintly humming in the air. Richard could feel it now, like pressure against his skin.
The carriage slowed.
Massive gates opened.
As they passed through, Richard felt something shift.
This wasn't just another place.
This was the center of power.
And as the gates closed behind them with a deep, echoing thud, one thought lingered quietly in his mind:
I wonder what this place will require from me.