Watcher of Fate

Elara stood on the deck of the Wind’s Grace. Ahead, the vast mountain range of containing Gabilanûr loomed, its jagged peaks cutting into the clear sky like the teeth of some ancient, slumbering beast. The sunlight reflected off the snow-capped summits, casting an ethereal glow over the approaching landscape.

The airship glided smoothly over the rolling foothills, its shimmering sails catching the arcane currents as the city before the Eastern gates of Gabilanûr came into view. The city was sprawling, built into the natural valley between the mountains. Its stone walls rose high, fortifications centuries old but still standing strong. Below, Elara spotted countless airships already docked, their hulls of all shapes and sizes reflecting the diverse merchants and adventurers who flocked to this trade hub. Beyond the walls, a sea of tents stretched out, temporary dwellings of traders, mercenaries, and wanderers who hadn’t secured space within the city.

Elara’s gaze swept across the vibrant scene. People bustled between the tents, smoke rose from makeshift campfires, and the constant hum of voices drifted up to the deck of Wind’s Grace. It was a far cry from the isolated mountain settlements she’d passed through before. Here, the city thrived with activity, like an artery connecting the eastern wilds to the more civilized lands beyond.

As she leaned over the railing, watching the city grow larger as they descended, a deckhand hurried past, carrying a bundle of rope over his shoulder. “Is it always this busy here?” she asked, catching his attention.

The man paused, wiping sweat from his brow before glancing at the bustling landscape. “It’s always busy, miss, but this? This is something else,” he replied, his tone filled with a hint of awe. “Must be the merchant season, or maybe one of those mountain festivals draws folks in. Either way, we’re lucky to get a spot at the docks.”

The Wind’s Grace descended toward a docking port nestled against the city’s outer wall as if on cue. Elara could feel the ship’s arcane engines slow as the shimmering sails drew in. The deck shuddered gently as the ship eased into position, ropes were thrown to waiting dockhands below, and the gangplank was lowered with a satisfying clunk.

Once the gangplank was fully secured, Elara and her group descended, boots meeting the stone dock with a solid thud. The city greeted them with a rush of sound and movement. Vendors called out from stalls set up along the main street leading towards the Eastern gate of Gabilanûr, the air thick with the scents of exotic spices, freshly baked bread, and the distinct tang of iron from the forge. Airship captains haggled with dockmasters, while travelers from distant lands weaved their way through the crowds, their attire as varied as the cargo they hauled.

They pressed through the crowded city streets, heading toward the imposing Eastern gate of Gabilanûr. The walls grew taller as they approached, the gate itself flanked by massive stone statues of ancient dwarven warriors. Their stoic gazes seemed to watch over the endless stream of traders and adventurers moving in and out of the city.

“Elara,” Kael said, his voice barely audible over the din. “Do you feel it?”

She did. Beneath the vibrant life of the city, there was a hum, low, persistent energy that throbbed through the ground, emanating from the mountain itself. The feeling wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. It was the same energy she had felt before at other places of power, where ancient forces still lingered, woven into the very stone of the land.

Elara, Lily, and Kael pushed through the throngs of traders and travelers, the constant hum of voices filling the air. Merchants called out from their stalls, displaying wares from across the realms, exotic silks, enchanted trinkets, spices, and weapons. The crowded streets buzzed with the sound of bartering, footsteps, and the creaking of heavily laden carts. But beneath it all, Elara’s senses tuned into something more ominous: murmurs of unrest.

As they moved closer to the Eastern Gate, snippets of conversation floated past her ears.

“...been sealed for days now.”

“...inner wards shut tight. No one gets in or out.”

“...something going on, but no one’s saying a damn thing.”

Lily’s ears twitched, her tails swaying lightly as she caught the same whispers. She shot Elara a sidelong glance, her golden eyes sharp with curiosity. Walking just behind them, Kael seemed more focused on the architecture of Gabilanûr than the gossip. However, his gaze occasionally flicked toward groups of tense-looking travelers gathered in hushed circles.

The gate itself loomed ahead, a towering structure of blackened stone, reinforced with iron beams and etched with ancient dwarven runes. Flanking the entrance were massive dwarven statues, their stone visages worn by time but no less imposing. Beneath their shadow stood a row of dwarf guards, clad in heavy armor and holding spears topped with gleaming, rune-etched tips. Beside them, hulking Automatons, easily twice the height of the dwarves, stood motionless but intimidating, their broad, mechanical arms capable of flattening a person with a single blow.

As Elara approached, one of the dwarf guards stepped forward. His beard was braided and tucked beneath a steel helm, his eyes sharp beneath the shadow of his brow. “Eastern market’s open,” he announced gruffly, “but access to all inner wards is closed to outsiders.”

Elara exchanged a glance with Kael before stepping closer to the dwarf. “Closed? Why?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral.

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your concern, adventurer. Orders are orders. You’ve got business in the market, do it. But the inner wards are sealed.”

Before Elara could push further, Quill’s voice echoed in her mind, his tone dry. “I suppose it's only polite to keep your secrets when you’ve got massive mechanical death machines. Can’t imagine why they’d be tight-lipped.”

Elara resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though she felt the faintest hint of amusement tug at her lips. “We’re not getting anything more out of him,” she muttered under her breath.

Lily’s tails flicked in mild annoyance, her playful demeanor tempered by the rising tension in the city. “If the gates are sealed, something big is brewing,” she said, her voice low. “And we’re not the only ones in the dark.”

Kael simply nodded, his dark eyes glimmering with quiet curiosity. “Let’s see what the market reveals.”

Without further argument, they pressed deeper into Gabilanûr, passing beneath the looming gate and into the heart of the Eastern market. The atmosphere shifted as they entered, the noise growing even louder as the market opened up. Stalls and shops lined the streets, each packed with goods, everything from rare herbs and alchemical ingredients to enchanted weapons and armor crafted with dwarven precision. The dwarves were known for their craftsmanship, which showed in the quality of the wares on display.

The market stretched out before them, a sprawling, vibrant labyrinth of stone walkways and towering buildings carved into the mountain itself. The deeper they ventured, the more the grandeur of Gabilanûr became apparent. It was no ordinary city; the stone arches above them were inlaid with shimmering gems, casting soft hues of light that danced across the stalls below. Everywhere Elara looked, there was evidence of dwarven craftsmanship at its peak, intricate carvings, stone pillars wrapped in gold filigree, and walkways polished to a gleaming finish. The air buzzed with the energy of trade, deals being struck, and the scent of rich spices mingling with the sharp tang of metal and stone.

The market was far larger than it appeared from the outside, with sections descending into the earth, creating tiers of underground levels. Each lower level was interconnected by wide stairways and platforms suspended by thick iron chains. The stone beneath her feet pulsed with life, and Elara couldn't shake the feeling that the mountain itself was awake, a silent sentinel watching over the flow of commerce.

As Elara's eyes fell on the massive edifice dominating the center of the underground market, she took in the finer details that set it apart. Unlike the grandiose carvings of mythical creatures that adorned many other buildings in the city, this structure was decorated with symbols that spoke of wealth, trade, and prosperity. Intricately carved into the stone walls were images of ships with billowing sails, their holds brimming with goods; ledgers, each page meticulously inscribed with transactions; sacks of grain and barrels of ale; and, most prominently, coins, piles upon piles of gleaming, perfectly round coins that seemed to glitter in the soft light.

The massive golden scales above the entrance, weighing coins on one side and a scroll on the other, was the clearest symbol of the Merchant Guild’s power. It represented trade and the balance of wealth and knowledge, two pillars that upheld the guild’s influence across realms. The guild was the unseen hand behind many cities’ economies, including Gabilanûr’s, and the sheer size of this edifice spoke volumes about its importance here.

Elara found herself momentarily in awe of the structure. The last time she'd dealt with the Merchant Guild was during the escort job from Ashfall to Frostspire, guiding a caravan through treacherous terrain. That mission had turned out well, a rare moment where everything aligned perfectly: the caravan arrived intact, the rewards were substantial, and her reputation with the guild had grown. It had been a reminder that the Merchant Guild was a powerful ally when on your side and a formidable enemy if crossed.

Looking up at the golden scales, Elara knew that if the gates to the inner wards were sealed, the merchants as an organization had to know why. Anything that disrupted trade flow this drastically wouldn’t escape their notice. They either kept secrets or actively managed the situation if they were still operating.

“We’re going in,” Elara said, her resolve hardening. She reached for her bronze Adventurer’s badge and clipped it to her cuirass, the bronze glinting against the dark material. It wasn’t much, but it would signal that she was here on business, a professional looking for answers.

Kael and Lily followed her as they ascended the steps, the clink of their boots echoing in the cavernous space. The guards at the door, clad in pristine uniforms of green and gold, gave her a quick once-over but let them pass without comment. Elara’s badge and determined stride were enough to grant entry.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted. The main hall of the Merchant Guild exuded calm, quiet power. The polished marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, and the walls were lined with paintings of prosperous trade routes, bustling markets, and historic deals struck between realms. Everything was organized, precise. Merchants in fine robes moved about with purposeful strides, their conversations hushed as they carried documents, sealed scrolls, and ledgers.

At the far end of the hall was a grand counter where officials worked diligently, quills scratching against parchment, their expressions sharp with focus. Shelves filled with ledgers and legal texts loomed behind them, a testament to the vast amount of knowledge and wealth the guild managed.

Elara took a breath, feeling the weight of the space around her. If anyone knew what was happening behind those sealed gates, it would be someone here. Now, all that was left was finding the right person to talk.

As Elara scanned the grand hall, she saw a group of merchants exiting a meeting room to her left. They were deep in conversation, their voices a murmur of concern and urgency. Among them, a sturdy man with broad shoulders and a kind face emerged, his brown hair now more streaked with gray than she remembered. Elara's heart skipped a beat, she recognized him immediately.

Before she could call out, the man looked up, his eyes meeting hers across the bustling hall. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a questioning smile. "Elara?" he called, his tone laced with disbelief.

A warm smile spread across her face. "Owen? What are you doing in Gabilanûr?" she replied, stepping forward to close the distance between them.

Owen chuckled, extending a hand that she grasped firmly. "I could ask you the same! Last I saw, you were heading off to who-knows-where after Frostspire. It's good to see you."

She nodded, her eyes briefly flicking to the group of merchants who had paused behind him, watching the exchange with curiosity. "It's been a journey. But I didn't expect to find you out here."

He sighed, his expression shifting to one of mild frustration. "Well, business in Frostspire slowed down after the Iron Horde fears. I decided to try my luck on the Greate Trade Route and got stuck here in Gabilanûr on my way back. But as you might have noticed, things aren't exactly smooth sailing."

Elara raised an eyebrow. "I've noticed the gates to the inner wards are sealed. Any idea what's going on?"

Owen glanced around cautiously before leaning in slightly. "That's the problem, we're all being kept in the dark, but the most common theory is that the High King died, and there is a succession crisis. Anyway, you look at it, the trade routes are disrupted, and the merchants are getting restless. We've been trying to find a way around it, but the only open path is super dangerous."

He paused, his gaze appraising her for a moment. "What level are you now, if you don't mind me asking?"

Owen’s eyes widened with excitement at Elara’s answer, but it wasn’t just him, his entire group of merchants froze, their conversations halting abruptly as her words sank in.

“Thirty-three?” Owen repeated, his voice louder now, tinged with disbelief. The merchants behind him exchanged quick, startled glances, their murmurs barely contained as they whispered. “You were level eighteen when we last met, just a few months ago. That's... unheard of.”

One of the older merchants, a balding man with a finely trimmed beard and expensive robes, stepped forward, his eyes wide with shock. “Thirty-three? In that short a time? That’s faster than any adventurer I’ve ever heard of!” He sounded almost incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears.

Another merchant, a wiry woman with sharp eyes, chimed in, her voice low but clearly impressed. “Most adventurers in the Guild barely reach level twenty-four, even after years of work. You’re telling me you’ve nearly doubled your strength in mere months?”

Elara shifted uncomfortably as the group’s attention fixated on her, a mix of awe and disbelief spreading through the gathered merchants. It wasn’t the kind of attention she had wanted, but it was clear now that her rapid growth had struck a chord with them. She hadn’t thought much of it, her journey had been filled with challenges, each one pushing her to the brink. But for these merchants, accustomed to the steady progress of most adventurers, her rise must have seemed impossible.

Owen’s astonishment turned quickly into excitement. “Everyone,” he said, addressing his group with renewed energy, “this might be the solution we’ve been looking for. This is Elarathe best adventurer I’ve ever seen, and that was when she was level eighteen a few months ago. Now she’s level thirty-three. That’s beyond extraordinary!”

Elara couldn’t help but feel a wave of unease as their eyes lingered on her. She could feel the weight of the attention, the expectations pressing down. This was not what she wanted. She didn’t have time to get roped into some risky endeavor; she had to get back to the Aetherium Empire, to her mother. But Owen’s enthusiasm was palpable, and the other merchants, clearly desperate for a solution to their problem, were now hanging on her every word.

“Owen,” she started, trying to temper the excitement building around her gently, “I appreciate the compliment, but I’m not here for any new adventures. I need to get back to the Aetherium Empire as soon as possible. My priorities…”

Before she could finish, Owen cut in, his excitement undeterred. “Exactly! And that’s why this could work out perfectly for all of us. We’re forming a group to traverse the Underdark. It’s risky, but it’s the fastest way to bypass the sealed gates of Gabilanûr and get back to the Empire. And with you by our side, Elara... our chances become almost assured.”

Elara blinked, momentarily taken aback. The Underdark? It was notorious, a labyrinthine network of dark tunnels, dangerous creatures, and ancient, forgotten magic. Traversing it was no small feat, even for an experienced party. But bypassing Gabilanûr could save her time, valuable time she needed to help her mother. Still, the thought of venturing into that dangerous underground realm made her stomach twist.

A few of the merchants began nodding, their fear of the Underdark seemingly quelled by Owen’s confidence. One of them, a middle-aged man with an air of authority, stepped forward. “If she’s as capable as you say, Owen, then perhaps she is the answer to our problem. Getting back to the Empire isn’t just important for us, it’s crucial for all our clients waiting on these goods.”

Elara raised her hand, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Hold on. I’m not agreeing to anything just yet. I understand you need help, but the Underdark is... well, it’s the Underdark. I’ve heard the stories.”

“And I’m not asking you to take it lightly,” Owen said, his tone shifting to one of sincerity. “I know the risks, Elara. But we’ve tried every other option. The inner gates aren’t opening any time soon, and we’re running out of time. This isn’t just about business, it’s about survival. For all of us.”

Elara glanced at Kael and Lily. The tiefling’s expression was thoughtful, while Lily’s golden eyes gleamed with interest. They both seemed more intrigued than concerned by the idea of traversing the dangerous underground realm.

Lily, with a faint smile, leaned closer and whispered, “Sounds like fun. Besides, how often do you get to see the Underdark?”

Kael gave a small nod, his voice quiet but steady. “It could save us time. And it would be an experience few ever have. There’s knowledge to be gained there.”

Elara exhaled slowly, the tension knotting her shoulders. The thought of her mother, trapped and awaiting rescue, weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Maybe this was the quickest path back to the Aetherium Empire, but still, it felt like stepping into a vortex of uncertainty.

Owen, sensing her hesitation, softened his approach. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important. I know you’ve got your own mission. But if we can help each other, if this is the fastest way to get you back to the Empire, it’s worth considering. And you’d be saving a lot of lives, too.”

Elara’s mind raced, her thoughts swirling with the risks and rewards of what Owen was proposing. Finally, she sighed and nodded, the weight of the decision settling on her shoulders.

“Alright, Owen,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m in. But we prepare thoroughly, and I mean thoroughly. The Underdark isn’t forgiving, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

A broad grin spread across Owen’s face. “That’s the Elara I know. We’ll gather tonight to discuss the details. Meet us at the Silver Hammer Inn once you’ve settled in.”

Elara watched him and his group of merchants walk away, the hum of conversation resuming around them. She still felt uneasy, knowing the magnitude of what she had just agreed to. But deep down, she knew that if this path brought her even one step closer to saving her mother, it was a risk she had to take.