Chapter 147: Arriving at the City
Built into the dark slate of the Emberreach Highlands, the frontier town bore the marks of resilience—stone walls reinforced with black iron, homes sunken partially into the hills, and smoke trailing from chimneys like nervous breath. Soldiers patrolled the outer streets, their armor charred from ash winds and patched from skirmishes with beasts displaced by the dragon’s presence.
Inigo and Lyra followed Marshal Cedric through the stone-paved main road, passing blacksmiths, bakers, and wary civilians who threw them sidelong glances. Behind them, the JLTV idled near the barracks—still drawing attention from wide-eyed children and old men alike.
"The town holds up better than I expected," Inigo murmured.
Cedric gave a low grunt. "We’ve had years to prepare. Our ancestors built Ironmark as a fire-hardened settlement. If dragons came, we were told to last until help arrived."
Lyra ran her hand along the edge of a merchant’s wooden cart, pausing as she spotted a hand-painted mural—depicting a titanic red dragon looming over a mountain, villagers offering tribute at its feet.
"You depict them as gods," she remarked.
"Or devils," Cedric replied. "Depends who’s telling the story. That one was painted after the last attack, about a century ago. We haven’t had one in living memory—until now."
A child peeked at them from behind a stone pillar. His mother pulled him back quickly and whispered something that made him look toward the horizon with wide, fearful eyes.
Inigo caught the glance. "They know something’s coming."
"They can feel it," Cedric said. "Everyone does. But we pretend. We trade, we build, we pray—because fear is slow poison. If you let it seep too deep, it rots the spine."
They crossed a small plaza where a trio of traveling bards were playing soft music on flutes and drums. Their notes barely carried over the hum of the forge nearby, where apprentices hammered at shields and polearms with near frantic speed.
"Preparing for war?" Lyra asked.