The remainder of the journey passed much as the first half had. Merchant wagons continued to travel in both directions, travelers stepped aside to allow the escort to pass, and by early afternoon the walls of Keleushila rose above the countryside.
They were taller than those of Reka, built from gray stone that bore the marks of repairs carried out over the years. Watchtowers overlooked the road at regular intervals, and the wooden gates stood open beneath a raised portcullis, allowing a stream of carts, riders, and pedestrians to pass.
The captain urged his horse forward and spoke with the gate guards before presenting the documents authorizing the governor's visit. One of the guards stepped toward the carriage, lifted the curtain, and glanced inside. His eyes moved first to Lucien, then to the governor seated opposite him. Satisfied, he lowered the curtain.
"Welcome to Keleushila," he said, stepping aside.
The escort rolled through the gate without delay.
Reka had been a city of merchants, its streets lined with market stalls, workshops, and warehouses. Keleushila possessed craftsmen of its own, but they worked toward a single purpose. Blacksmiths hammered breastplates instead of farming tools. Leatherworkers stitched harnesses, sword belts, and scabbards in place of clothing. Wagons laden with bundles of spear shafts rolled through the streets while teams of laborers unloaded crates marked with the royal seal.
Every open square served a purpose. In one, recruits practiced marching beneath the eyes of instructors. In another, lines of young men thrust wooden spears forward in unison until the impact echoed between the buildings. In a third yard, archers loosed volleys toward distant targets.
Eren found herself following the cadence of the shouted commands. The drills were familiar; for years she had repeated the same movements. Raise the shield. Advance. Hold the line. Withdraw. Repeat until the movements became instinct. Most of the recruits wore expressions that suggested necessity rather than ambition. Coin, regular meals, and a roof were reason enough to enlist. Yet among them were a few who carried themselves differently, hoping that skill might earn them a place among the Royal Guard.
The procession eventually halted before the administrative hall. Unlike the building in Reka, which spread broadly across the square, Keleushila's hall rose three stories high, built of dressed stone with tall windows overlooking the streets. It lacked the grandeur of a castle, yet there was a solidity about it that suited the city.
Lucien climbed down first and scanned the square before turning toward the escort. "We'll be here for some time. Remain outside. The governor's meeting shouldn't take more than a few hours."
A moment later, the governor stepped down from the carriage. He appeared to be in his middle years, his dark hair and trimmed beard threaded with gray. His clothing was finely made without being ostentatious, and he carried himself with the assurance of a man accustomed to being obeyed. Before climbing the stone steps, he glanced at the guards and mercenaries who had accompanied him from Reka, acknowledging them with a single nod. Then he disappeared inside alongside Lucien.
The square settled back into its ordinary rhythm. Shion remained where she was, watching the streets with quiet attention, while Eren's eyes wandered from one training yard to another. Children chased one another across the open spaces until a craftsman shooed them away from his workshop. Apprentices carried bundles of timber between carpenters' sheds, and somewhere beyond the neighboring buildings a smith's hammer rang against an anvil with regularity.
The recruits trained without pause. Whenever one group was dismissed, another took its place. Instructors corrected stances with curt words and taps from wooden staffs, while tired young soldiers hurried to refill water buckets before the next exercise began.
"They don't waste much time," Eren observed.
Shion followed her gaze. "They can't afford to."
Hours passed before the doors of the administrative hall opened again. The governor emerged and descended the steps, exchanging a few final words with an official waiting near the entrance before climbing back into the carriage. The curtain closed behind him.
Lucien remained outside a moment longer, approaching Shion and Eren. "It seems our business together ends here. Keleushila has agreed to provide an escort for the governor's return journey. Your contract is complete."
He produced a leather pouch and placed it into Shion's hand. As her fingers closed around it, Lucien allowed his own hand to remain there for a brief moment.
"Later," he said quietly.
Shion gave a slight nod. "I understand."
Only then did he release the pouch. Without another word, Lucien climbed back into the carriage. Before long, a squad of Keleushila guards emerged from the hall and took up the positions that Shion, Eren, and the captain's men had occupied throughout the journey.
The carriage disappeared into the streets until the surrounding buildings swallowed it from sight. Around them, the square gradually settled back into its ordinary rhythm. Recruits marched between the training yards beneath the eyes of their instructors, craftsmen pushed handcarts laden with armor plates toward nearby workshops, and the ringing of distant hammers drifted through the afternoon air.
Eren watched the last glimpse of the escort vanish before turning toward Shion. "So... what now?"
Shion looked toward the sun. There were still several hours of daylight ahead of them. "We could leave now. The capital is still a long way off."
Eren nodded.
Shion continued. "Or we could see what Keleushila has to offer before we leave."
"The smiths?"
"And the merchants."
Eren smiled faintly. "I was hoping you'd say that."
"We bought what we could afford in Trivale," Shion replied. "There's nothing wrong with seeing whether we can do better."
Eren instinctively rested a hand against the sword at her hip. "I wouldn't mind something that doesn't lose its edge every other day."
Shion gave a quiet nod. Her own equipment had served her well through years of work, but only her greatsword had remained with her for any real length of time. The armor she wore had been repaired often enough that some of the stitching no longer matched, and while it remained dependable, dependable was not the same as exceptional.
She looked down at the leather pouch still resting in her hand. "We should see what he paid us first."
Untying the cord, she tipped the contents into her palm. Several silver coins caught the afternoon light.
Eren leaned closer. "...That can't be right."
Shion counted them once. Then again. She looked no less surprised the second time. "Fifty silver."
Eren stared at the stack of coins before looking back at Shion. "Fifty?"
Shion separated them into groups of ten, more out of habit than necessity. "...Fifty."
For several moments neither of them spoke. Eren let out a low whistle. "I thought we'd be lucky to see ten."
"So did I," Shion said. She gathered the coins back into the pouch, pausing briefly before tightening the drawstring. "The contract wasn't worth fifty."
"No."
"The extra is for the information."
"I wasn't expecting twenty silver's worth."
"Neither was I."
Eren shook her head with a quiet laugh. "I suddenly understand why experienced mercenaries keep saying government contracts are worth chasing."
"They're not always this generous."
"No," Eren admitted. "But I certainly don't mind when they are."
Shion slipped the pouch into her pack before adjusting the strap across her shoulder. "We still can't afford enchanted equipment."
Eren laughed. "Not unless one of these smiths has gone mad."
"But ordinary equipment..." Shion looked toward the long row of forges where columns of smoke rose steadily into the sky. "...might finally be affordable."
Eren followed her gaze. The sound of hammer striking anvil echoed through the district in a constant rhythm. "Then I suppose we'd better see whether Keleushila has earned its reputation. Let's hope they're willing to sell to mercenaries."
Without another word, the two mercenaries crossed the square and headed toward the workshops, leaving the administrative hall behind as the noise of soldiers drilling gradually gave way to the harsher music of furnaces and steel.