Chapter 240: Riverdale City [ 2 ]

The gate guards, dressed in river-blue tabards emblazoned with Riverdale’s crest, stepped forward with a cautious professionalism. One guard, a broad-shouldered man sporting a scar across his jaw, raised his hand in greeting instead of challenge.

“State your purpose,” he called out, his voice steady but his gaze lingering just a moment too long on Valeria’s calm, inscrutable expression.

Business,” Boren interjected smoothly before Valeria could respond, offering a polite smile that softened the roundness of his features. “We come from Greyvale and will be staying for some time.”

The guard’s eyes flicked from the leather-bound book Boren carried tucked under his arm to the impressive mounts and then back to Valeria again. Something about her demeanor made him stand up straighter. After a brief pause, he nodded and stepped aside to clear the gate.

“Welcome to Riverdale,” he said. “Keep the peace here, and Riverdale will treat you well.”

Boren inclined his head as if accepting a formal blessing before they passed beneath the arch of the western gate.

The change was immediate. As soon as they crossed the threshold, soundenveloped them like waves crashing upon shore—layered and vibrant.

The streets were wider than those in Greyvale, paved with stones smoothed by countless footsteps and wheels. They stretched ahead before branching into smaller roads weaving through districts too numerous to count at first glance.

Buildings towered on either side, taller and more ornate than those in Greyvale, with upper floors jutting outward slightly over the street and balconies adorned with intricately carved railings.

Many structures featured lighter stone or were painted in shades of pale blue and white that mirrored the river’s influence; decorative motifs resembling waves, fish, and stylized boats embellished doorways and signs.

Here, the scent of the river grew stronger still, mingling with enticing aromas wafting from cooking food alongside the metallic tang of fresh catch. Stalls lined every street corner; many showcased goods sourced directly from the Twilight River itself.

Vendors lined the streets, showcasing glistening rows of fish artfully arranged on beds of crushed ice, their scales shimmering with flashes of silver and green.

Others offered smoked fillets, salted preserves, and jars filled with pickled river eels. Craftsmen displayed nets woven from treated fibers, polished shells transformed into jewelry, and charms believed to protect sailors from storms.

Even the blacksmiths had a unique focus; many showcased anchors, hooks, and specialized tools for dockwork alongside the usual swords and spearheads.

Yet Riverdale’s diversity extended far beyond the riverbanks. Thanks to the Twilight River connecting distant regions, the goods available here surpassed what the Evergreen Region could produce alone.

Boren noticed fabrics dyed in hues deeper than any local plant could achieve, neatly folded and proudly displayed; spices wafted unfamiliar scents from small ceramic jars; and metalwork featuring distinct styles, some slender and elegantly curved in ways

Greyvale’s smiths rarely attempted, captured the attention of passing warriorsThe air was filled with accents that didn’t belong to the Evergreen Region, faces bore features shaped by different climates and histories, and clothing was cut in patterns that diverged from Greyvale’s conservative tastes.

Riverdale wasn’t just a trading hub; it absorbed elements from around the world and showcased them openly.

Valeria skillfully guided her mount through the bustling main road with steady precision. Her posture was straight, eyes alert as she took in every alleyway and rooftop without appearing to turn her head.

In contrast, Boren maintained a composed expression while his gaze darted about more freely, assessing traffic flow and guard density. He couldn’t help but compare this city to Greyvale in his mind. While Greyvale had its own vitality rooted in long-standing politics and warrior culture, Riverdale felt more fluid and adaptable. Here, money flowed like water and where money flows, power inevitably follows.

They didn’t linger long on the main thoroughfare. After asking a passing merchant for directions, Boren led Valeria toward a reputable inn nestled within one of the inner districts, a place accustomed to hosting well-off travelers.

The inn stood three stories tall with an impressive facade adorned by a carved wooden sign depicting a ship sailing beneath a crescent moon.

As they approached, stablehands rushed forward with wide eyes at thesight of their massive mounts; though they tried to appear confident while taking the reins, there was an unmistakable stiffness in their movements.

“Careful,” Boren advised gently as he patted his beast’s neck before dismounting with surprising agility for someone of his size. “They’re well-trained but don’t appreciate rough handling.”

Valeria dismounted gracefully in one fluid motion despite her height above ground level. She handed over her reins silently as the stablehands swallowed nervously before leading their mounts away to reinforced stalls likely built for larger creatures.

Inside, the inn was spacious and clean, with polished wood and wide beams that supported the upper floors.

The common room buzzed with conversation but lacked the rowdy atmosphere often found in Greyvale’s establishments; here, the patrons were more merchants than mercenaries.

While weapons were visible, they weren’t being flaunted. Without hesitation, Boren arranged for two rooms, paying with coins that spoke of confidence. Soon enough, they were led upstairs to a quiet corridor overlooking the street.

Once the door to their shared sitting area closed behind them, Boren visibly relaxed as tension eased from his shoulders.

He set his leather-bound book down on a sturdy table near the window and let out a deep breath, wiping his forehead with a cloth he pulled from his sleeve.

Valeria moved toward the window and cracked it open just enough to let in the cool breeze drifting in from the river. For a moment, silence enveloped them.

As they settled into their surroundings, Valeria turned her head slightly to look at Boren without softening her expression.

“So,” she asked, her tone steady yet curious, “what’s your next move?”

Boren followed her gaze to the window and then back to the book resting on the table.

He reached out and tapped its worn leather cover lightly with two fingers, a deliberate gesture.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, allowing a faint smile to break through despite the lingeringapprehension he felt under her scrutiny. “We’re going to collect the compensation our boss instructed me about.”

Valeria’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer as she assessed his resolve before glancing at the book again.

Outside, the distant hum of city life continued uninterrupted; the Twilight River flowed as always, carrying ships and fortunes along its path.

Yet within their quiet room at the inn, an almost palpable weight hung in the air, as if Sage’s unseen schemes had trailed them across miles and now awaited their unfolding in this City of Gold.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep