CHAPTER 26: CHAPTER 26 - BLACKBEAR CITY

It was already afternoon when the Ravenscroft carriage rolled through the gates, passing the massive walls of the city. The guards at the entrance saluted their crest without question, and soon the sisters found themselves moving into the heart of Blackbear City.

It was not as sprawling as the city she was used to, yet it breathed a different kind of life altogether. Where those streets were polished and filled with travelers and craftsmen, Blackbear’s were filled with hunters and adventurers all around.

Men with crossbows slung across their backs, women in leather jerkins with blades strapped to their sides, carts carrying bundles of pelts, horns, bones, and herbs that still carried the dampness of the forest.

Stalls decorated the roads selling cured meats, powders, jars of preserved beasts’ blood, and weapons carved from claws and bones. Voices rose in heated bartering, laughter, and calls to sample.

It was, Morena thought, less refined but more alive.

Alina leaned lazily against the window, a small smile curving her lips.

"See? Told you. This city has a life of its own; it’s always lively. Everyone hunts, everyone sells, everyone lives off the woods. Even nobles here wear leather when they don’t have to."

Morena gave a faint nod, eyes flicking from a merchant loudly boasting about the healing properties of wolf marrow to a pair of trappers unloading boar carcasses.

"It certainly has character."

She murmured with a smile.

After some turns, they reached the inn Alina had already told her about—a timbered building with wide balconies, fresh banners, and a large common hall that smelled of smoked meat and ale. It was not luxury compared to a noble’s estate, but it was solid, a place outside the price range of a commoner.

The reason they had to stay at an inn was because the Ravenscrofts did not keep an estate here. It was unnecessary, and maintaining one would have been wasteful when they only ever came for the hunt. Renting a manor for a handful of days was equally pointless. So, as in years past, they simply took the inn’s best rooms.

This time, it would be two single chambers for the sisters, two larger ones for the warriors.

Once the rooms were arranged and luggage carried, Alina sighed contentedly, stretching her arms.

"We’ve time until evening. I’ll get a meal, maybe nap a bit. Don’t fall asleep too deeply, though—we’ve to be at Earl Duran’s estate after sunset."

She grinned faintly.

"And some of my friends are expecting me."

Morena inclined her head.

"Of course."

Alina disappeared to her chamber, and Morena, after a few minutes, stepped back out. She had no intention of idling the hours away in silence.

Naturally, she was not allowed to go alone. A warrior, a man named Bren, accompanied her—a tall, broad-shouldered veteran with a scar running across his jaw. He was a Rank 1 Warrior, the strongest amongst their escorts.

They walked the streets at an unhurried pace. Morena let her eyes linger on the cured hides strung in rows, the feathers dyed red and green for fletching, the jars of crushed herbs labeled in neat script.

One stall in particular caught her attention: bundles of dried roots and leaves arranged in careful piles, their scents sharp and bitter.

She paused and asked.

"What is this one?"

The merchant, a middle-aged woman with sunburnt skin, perked at the question.

"Spiritvine root, Lady. Good for calming the nerves, steadying the hands. Hunters chew it before bow-drawing, keeps them from shaking when the beasts charge."

Morena’s eyes narrowed faintly; she hadn’t come across such a herb in the books she had gone over, but that was to be expected. This world was large, and there were countless types of herbs in it. From the herbs she had seen in books, there were similar ones, but none with that name.

"And this?"

She pointed to a sack of pale-gray powder.

"Ground fanghorn bone. Useless on its own, but mixed in tinctures, it helps wounds knit faster. Expensive though, since fanghorns don’t die easily."

She thanked the woman with a coin for her explanation and moved on.

To Bren, she said quietly.

"Do you believe in these remedies? Or are they superstition?"

The man chuckled, deep and low.

"Half and half, Milady. Some herbs do help. My leg wouldn’t have healed from an old siege without a poultice or two. But many are just old wives’ tales dressed as trade."

Morena hummed in thought.

’So that’s why they weren’t in the family’s library.’

"And what of energy? You are a warrior. What advice would you give someone just beginning to feel its flow?"

Bren glanced at her sidelong, as if weighing whether she truly wished an honest answer.

"Control."

He said, finally, giving his sincere reply. From the look in her eyes—genuine curiosity in hopes of advice—he could tell that she wanted to grow.

"Not strength. Young ones push to show force, but they tear their channels raw. It’s better to know how to shape a drop perfectly than to spill a river wastefully."

Morena inclined her head, filing the words away.

"I see, that is indeed practical."

"Aye. You’ve got the look, Milady. You’ve started down the path. Remember—energy listens to patience more than pride."

For a moment, Morena found the man’s words quite funny; it seemed that he had accepted her as a warrior.

They walked farther, taking in the bustle until the sun lowered, painting the rooftops with molten gold. Along the way, she had bought a few things—some herbs that seemed interesting, and some materials from animals that were difficult to come across.

All with hopes that they could be of use, perhaps combined with the AI to increase her training.

Morena paused at a bridge spanning the narrow river that cut through the city. She rested her hand briefly on the rail, listening to the water rush below.

"I see why my sister likes it here."

She murmured, half to herself.

Then she straightened, cloak drawn tighter. The moment of peace and enjoyment had passed, and soon enough, her first gathering of nobles would take place.

When she returned to the inn, she found Alina already dressed for the evening—her hair brushed smooth, she wore a simple red dress that highlighted her hair, and to her side hung her sword.

Morena said nothing, only went to prepare herself.

Tonight, they would not be taking part in any hunt or action; it was merely a gathering for the nobles to meet, interact, and have some fun. The hunt would begin in the morning; tonight was a different type of battle.