Beyond The Waning Light of Paradise

Chapter 23: Impsbane's Whispers

After a long and arduous journey, Silas and Rowan finally reached the gates of Impsbane, a wave of relief and anticipation washing over them. Impsbane, nestled within a dense forest and flanked by towering cliffs, exuded an air of mystery. The towering stone walls of Impsbane loomed ahead, The sun began to dip behind the mountains, casting shadows that stretched across the land like sleeping giants. Quite an ironic sight for a city named after an imp.

Silas and Rowan passed through the gates without incident. As they entered the city, the bustling streets quickly enveloped them in a whirlwind of activity. Merchants called out to potential customers, and the scent of various foods wafted through the air, mingling with the smell of earth and moss from the surrounding forest.

Rowan's stomach growled audibly as they walked, earning a chuckle from Silas.

Rowan shot him a mock glare. "Can you blame me? We've been living on dried rations for days. I need real food."

"You sure do complain a lot," Silas remarked with a smirk.

"Well, I'm a growing man and need some real food," Rowan barked back, rolling his eyes. "Not this dried-up excuse for rations."

Before they could continue their search for sustenance, Silas suggested, "Alright, alright, but first let's find a stable to secure our horses. They've carried us a long way and deserve a well-earned rest."

Rowan agreed, and they followed the signs toward the stables. The stable was a sturdy building, its wooden roof sheltering several well-maintained stalls. A stablehand greeted them as they approached.

Welcome to Impsbane Stables," the stablehand greeted them with a nod. "Looking for a place to rest your horses?

Silas and Rowan explained that they needed to stable their horses for the night. The stablehand nodded and led them to two empty stalls. As they unloaded their horses, the stablehand offered to feed and water them.

"Thank you," Silas said. He paid ten bronze grand-era coins for the day and continued, "We'll be back later to check on them."

Silas and Rowan turned their attention to finding a place to eat with their horses settled in. They wandered through the city, taking in the sights and sounds.

They made their way through the marketplace, and the sights and sounds of Impsbane's diverse populace filled their senses. The market was a chaotic blend of stalls selling everything from exotic fruits to strange magical trinkets. As they passed a stall selling roasted meats, Rowan couldn't help but stop and stare, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the sizzling food.

"This is it," Rowan said, eyes lighting up as he reached for his coin pouch.

Silas nodded, distracted. "You go ahead. I'll check out that tavern. It should be a good place to gather information," he added, nodding toward the building.

Rowan waved him off, too focused on the food to argue. "Sure, sure. I'll be here with Goldie."

Silas pushed open the wooden door of the tavern, the warm, dimly lit interior contrasting sharply with the bustling market outside. The scent of ale and raucous laughter filled the air, mixing with the low hum of conversations among seasoned travellers scattered around the room.

As Silas made his way to the bar, a different sound caught his ear, drawing his attention to a small stage in the corner. A bard, clad in worn leathers and a traveller's cloak, stood there, strumming a lute with practised fingers. The tavern's noise quieted slightly as the bard began to sing a familiar tune, known across the Amberfell continent as 'A Heroic March'. The song was a staple in taverns and gatherings, a tragic tale that resonated deeply with those who lived in the shadow of war and conflict: