Chapter 17

Larkin was still awestruck by what he had seen. Sure, he knew that some powerful magic users could teleport, but what Cain had just done was completely different. It was as if he had torn open reality itself to create that portal. Then, a thought struck him. "Wait, can't ya just bring us to Aeruna with that?" It made sense to Larkin; if Cain could perform such a feat, surely he could just teleport them to Aeruna.

Ercale let out a long sigh, clearly exasperated. "If I could have accomplished that, don't you think I would have done it already?" He said, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation. Inside Xain's mind, Ercale couldn't help but add, *Gods, your friends are as dense as you, ape.* Xain retorted with a smirk, *I'd like to think they're smarter than me,* prompting a begrudging nod from Ercale, who grumbled, *It's sad to say I agree.*

Larkin rubbed the back of his head and said, "Well, I guess we should head to the town then." Zee, however, voiced her concern, "When is Xain coming back?" She was worried because she did not trust Cain one bit. Ercale replied with a hint of annoyance in his tone, "He'll return when he decides to." Inside his mind, he couldn't help but be irritated by Xain's leisurely exploration inside his own head.

**10 Minutes later**

They approached the town gates, where three guards stood, scrutinizing and interrogating those seeking entry. Ercale noticed Zee discreetly adjusting her hair to conceal her elven ears and inquired of Xain, *Are elves still feared or hated?*

Xain, struggling with an unfamiliar book written in a language he couldn't decipher, responded, *Not in Ironhelm, at least. It doesn't seem to be an issue there.*

Ercale contemplated this for a moment, his expression pensive. *I suppose some prejudices endure, regardless of how much time has passed,* he mused, realizing that even if Ironhelm had moved beyond such prejudices, much of the wider world still harbored resentment toward elves.

Larkin cleared his throat before asserting, "Let me handle the talking." Ercale had no objections to this; he wasn't particularly fond of engaging in conversations with strangers. As they approached the gate, Larkin took the lead, with Zee in the middle and Ercale bringing up the rear. When they drew near, the guards finished their questioning of the previous person and shifted their attention to the newcomers.

Ercale, now closer to the guards, examined their equipment. He noted that they wore padded armor marked with a symbol resembling a half-moon, most likely connected to the town. As for their weaponry, they carried what appeared to be firearms resembling pistols on their right hips and held halberds in their hands.

"State your purpose!" one of the guards, a man with black hair, called out. Larkin, with a confident stride, stepped forward and responded, "Just passing through to arrange for transportation," maintaining a friendly tone. The guard glanced at the rest of the group. "Are they with you?" he inquired. Larkin nodded in confirmation. Another guard, a man with brown hair, observed the direction from which they had come and asked, "You're from Ironhelm?" Larkin nodded again and replied, "Yes, we're just some citizens looking to explore the outside."

The third guard stepped forward, clutching a ledger in his hands, and demanded, "State your names." Larkin began, "I'm Edward, and thie—" but was interrupted as the ledger-wielding guard sharply instructed, "They can say their own names." He then approached Zee and, after jotting down the name Larkin had provided, he simply said, "Name," while scrutinizing Zee more closely than he had with Larkin.

Zee felt a bit uncomfortable under the guard's intense gaze but managed to utter, "Emily." The guard scrutinized her for another moment before recording the name. He then shifted his attention to Ercale but halted mid-word as his voice wavered. His hand trembled slightly, and he couldn't hold Ercale's gaze. Quickly, he averted his eyes and muttered, "Name," though his tone was notably quieter.

Ercale couldn't help but wear a small smile as an idea sprang to mind. "Hey, what's wrong? Something interesting happening over there?" he tauntingly remarked, pretending to be interested in the direction the guard was avoiding. The guard, his voice void of all authority, pleaded, "Please, just state your name."

"Cain," Ercale replied smoothly. Then he leaned in, his tone dropping to something almost predatory. "And why don't you tell your friends to let us through without inspection?" The guard's attempt to turn and argue with him was halted by a single look into Ercale's eyes. It was a glance that conveyed a clear message: challenging him was unwise.

Resignedly, the guard turned to his fellow guards. "Let them through." Confusion was apparent on the faces of the other guards. The one with black hair questioned, "What? Why?" The guard with the ledger, visibly shaken, grabbed his colleague's shoulders and insisted, "Just do as I say." The fear in their superior's eyes was unmistakable, and they decided to follow his command, nodding to let Larkin, Zee, and Ercale pass without further inspection.

As they walked through the gates, Larkin couldn't help but be surprised by how easily they were allowed entry without inspection. He leaned in closer to Ercale and whispered, "What did you say back there?"

Ercale responded with a hint of snark in his voice, "What do you mean? I just told them my name and kindly asked to let us through." Larkin was taken aback but decided not to push further. Zee, on the other hand, was grateful but kept her appreciation to herself.

Inside the town, they observed the residents, mostly humans, going about their daily activities. The town's style and atmosphere were notably distinct from Ironhelm, which was expected. However, what caught Ercale off guard were the steam-wagons on the road, a sight he thought was unique to Ironhelm.

Ercale observed the town's architecture with a keen eye. The buildings seemed to be constructed from an amalgamation of materials: wood, stone, and metal. The intricate designs on the structures lent the town a rustic appearance, reminiscent of the late medieval era he had encountered in some of his readings.

He couldn't help but notice several banners bearing the peculiar half-moon symbol adorning the town. *What's the significance of that symbol?* he wondered, pondering the potential meaning behind it. As he observed the town's inhabitants, a nagging feeling of something amiss pricked at the back of his mind, although he chose not to voice it.

Meanwhile, Larkin, enthusiastic about their new surroundings, clapped his hands together. "Well, time to get to work!" he exclaimed, ready to embark on whatever lay ahead.