The City of Gol

The Veil Between Worlds

As he walked, Peadar took in the sights and sounds of the city at night. The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the desert landscape. The buildings of Gol were bathed in a warm and inviting glow, as torchlight danced and flickered above the streets like mischievous spirits.

Despite the late hour, the streets were not completely empty. Peadar passed groups of people gathered around fires, telling stories or playing music. He saw a pair of faeries fluttering about in the air, leaving trails of glowing dust behind them. A group of dwarves stumbled out of a tavern, singing bawdy songs and waving mugs of ale in the air. Peadar even caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure disappearing into an alley, leaving behind a trail of shimmering mist.

As he made his way through the city, Peadar realized that the night held a different kind of magic than the day. It was a time when the veil between worlds seemed thinner, and anything was possible. He felt a sense of anticipation and excitement building within him, as if he was on the cusp of some great adventure.

He wandered through the streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, until he found himself in his home district. It was a quieter part of the city, with a different kind of energy than the bustling centre.

Here, the streets were narrower, and the buildings were older and lacked the grandeur of the city's elite district. There were fewer people out and about, but those that were seemed to move with a sense of purpose, darting in and out of alleys and shadows.

Peadar had grown up in this part of the city, and he knew it like the back of his hand. It was home to more unsavoury characters and sights than the centre, but that was what made it feel like home to him. He felt more comfortable here than he did in the polished and glittering side of town.

As he walked through the district, he saw familiar faces and landmarks. There was the old tavern where he had gotten his first job washing dishes. There was the alley where he had won his first fist fight. And there, at the end of the street, was the small house where he lived.

Peadar's home was a small, cramped space, but it was his own. He had decorated it with trinkets and treasures he had collected over the years, and he had made it as cozy as he could. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him and leaning against it with a sigh of relief.

The inside of his home was dimly lit, with a few candles flickering in the corners. The walls were lined with shelves, which held books, bottles, and various oddities that he had acquired over the years. There was a small fireplace in one corner, giving off a cozy warmth, and a worn rug on the floor.

Peadar kicked off his boots and collapsed onto his chair, feeling the weight of the day settling on his shoulders. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting himself sink into the familiar comfort of his home.

Suddenly, a booming voice interrupted his thoughts. "DO YOU WANT A CUP OF TEA SUNNY JIM?"

Startled, Peadar sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. "Good lord, you near scared the life out of me, Granda," he said, as he recognized the voice, "home already?". 

Herbert, Peadar's grandfather, walked into the room with a tray of steaming tea and a plate of toast. "Aye, we had to close up shop early. Guards closed the roads off." Herbert said with a shrug. "I don't keep up with it".

Peadar chuckled at the sight of the toast. Burnt to a crisp and covered in sugar. "Ah, burnt toast, just how I like it," he said, taking a piece and biting into it.

Peadar savored the sweet, smoky taste of the burnt toast, which he had been eating for as long as he could remember. He looked at his grandfather and smiled, remembering an old theory he had.

"You know, Granda, I always suspected you burnt the toast by accident," Peadar said, taking another bite. "But now I think you do it on purpose."

Herbert laughed and shook his head. "Ah, you've figured me out, lad. It all started when you were a wee boy and I burnt your toast. You cried, so I added some sugar to it and you loved it. After that, I burnt it on purpose, just for you." he said, playfully pinching his grandson's rib

Peadar laughed, rubbing his rib. "Well, it's an acquired taste, but I think it's just what I need after the day I've had."

Herbert poured the tea and set the tray on the table. "Well, what kind of day was it?" he said, settling into his chair.

Peadar took a sip of his tea and felt the warmth spread through his chest. "There was a wild scene down at the pub," he said to Herbert. "A couple of lads got into a brawl, and I managed to lift this burlap sack from them while they were scrapping."

Herbert looked at him with a mixture of amusement and concern. "And what's in the sack?" he asked.

Peadar shrugged. "I don't know. It's valuable, though. I figured it was worth a look."

Herbert raised an eyebrow. "You didn't cause any trouble, did you?"

Peadar laughed "Me? Not at all!" He didn't want to worry his grandfather, who had always been a bit of a worrywart.

He changed the subject. "Anyway, what did you get up to today?"

Herbert snorted. "Oh, the usual. Running numbers, setting the odds. You know how it is."

Peadar laughed. "I don't know how you do it, Granda. All that gambling and wheeling and dealing. It's not for me."

Herbert shrugged. "It's a living. And it keeps me on my toes."

Peadar smiled. They sat there together, sipping tea and nibbling on burnt toast. "Well, should we see what's inside the bag?" Peadar asked, nodding towards it.

Herbert looked at the sack with curiosity. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a look," he said, setting down his tea mug.

Peadar smiled and reached for the sack. As he untied the knot at the top, he felt a sense of anticipation and excitement building within him, just like when he was walking through the city earlier. Together, he and his grandfather peered inside the sack, their eyes adjusting to the golden light that emanated from it. Peadar tentatively reached in and grasped the object inside, but quickly flinched and let go as it vibrated in his hand.

"Steady on there, boy," Herbert said, placing a hand on Peadar's shoulder. "What have you got there?"

Peadar took a deep breath and reached back into the sack, carefully wrapping his fingers around the object and slowly pulling it out. He held his breath as he lifted the container from the depths of the sack, the precious contents sloshing within. The liquid inside was a deep, lustrous gold, glinting and shimmering in the low light of the room. It seemed to hum with a faint, otherworldly energy, as if alive and pulsing with power.

"Some kind of potion?" Peadar asked as he held the vial up to the light.

Herbert leaned in for a closer look, eyes widening as he took in the sight. "Not like any potion I've ever seen " he said, his tone awed.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts as they stared at the vial. Finally, Peadar turned to his grandfather. "Should we open it?" he asked.

Herbert shrugged. 'I don't see why not. We're adventurers, after all. We're not afraid of a little mystery,' he said with a grin.