As surprising as it might be, the travel truly was that uneventful. There were the occasional stops, of course. Their wheel broke down at one point and they had to rely on the help of a kind traveler to get it fixed, there was a dead wyrm on the road that they had to slowly circle around as alchemists from the capital worked to cure the meat and ensure the wyrm wouldn’t explode right then and there, and one time a horde of orcish tribes traveling to new pastures for the season made them stop on the road for a day.

  But none of these events really concerned them. Nothing stopped them and sent them on a sprawling sidequest that took their focus away from the goal. They woke up in the morning, went down the road, stopped to eat at least two times- often three- a day and then they slept the nights.

  Homer told stories of the capital to try and give an idea of the yout for the country bumpkin and mountain bumpkin who had never been, although visualizing what he was putting down felt impossible. Streets so wide they rivaled the town squares of small vilges, aqueducts hanging high above casting shadows on the lower tiers of the city, the royal pace so imposing it drove away dragons in legends due to the sheer divinity it beheld.

  And the godsblooded kings, of course. Divinity in their veins from multiple sources, swelling and giving them the power for incredible feats no normal human could replicate, courting different gods by the week to earn their favor, funding projects of great import, treating their subjects the same way gods treated their flock.

  All so foreign and distant to a girl born beneath the earth by two hermits.

  And then the gates came to sight, and that distance was erased. Reality set in; impossibly big and magnificent, the top of the gate so high that even Aymanah would tire if they tried to fly up to it directly without breaks. Pilgrims flocked the gates just as they’d been flocking the roads for their whole travel duration, people chattering and yelling as they slowly trickled in through the multiple nes of checkpoints.

  “I know the people here, so coming shouldn’t be an issue. You can all figure out how you leave when this is over.” Homer idly mused as they took down one of the nes. And indeed, Homer *did* know the right people- and when he didn’t, all he had to do was rattle on about his military history enough to intimidate the greenhorn to let them pass. She had no idea he was *that* accomplished.

  And as the line trawled through the gates, the city itself came within view, and once more Maia and even Aymanah were left mouth agape. The godsblooded capital carried no other name; what other name would the cradle of divinity require, deserve, besides such a raw and direct description of its glory and what it meant to the world? The jewel of the realm, a tear rolled from the cheek of the god of Art dropped onto the world right here, perfectly pced.

  According to old legends substantiated by the gods themselves, this was the first project of the god of Cities. She was still young then, freshly brought onto this world, and wanted to prove her divinity for all that could see- and the then nomadic, ever searching for glory Steel king had requested her to provide the godsblooded dynasty a capital that would st through the ages.

  The god took to work with a kind of passionate bze that her ter works never carried. She directed men to shape the very earth itself to create hills that’d serve as ndmarks for the city and as locations for important construction projects, she pced it close to the ocean and directed the god of Sea to crash the water unto the nd to carve out a beautiful natural harbor, she directed the men of Steel’s dynasty to construct each and every building with her oversight and utmost care from the greatest paces to the smallest, dirtiest of stables-

  and while it took the lifetime of the young Steel king, the capital was complete, and the world was crowned with its greatest, most beautiful jewel. The god of Cities would never design another project as grind, for she had peaked so early. Many say this is the reason for her current curt behavior; a bubbling frustration at spending all her talent so early.

  Her academy still looms over the city, the headmaster a god eternally wandering constructing new cities for the mortals of the world, yet anyone who wishes to study the arts of cathedral construction, carpentry or other relevant skills has to make the trip here to study- after all, why would you hire anyone for the trade besides those trained under the watchful eyes of a god?

  Of course, over the years the glory of the city took some blows. Occasional rebellions and sieges meant that the walls have been improved and repaired over time, the inner walls still dispying that aesthetic design while the outer walls are more practical and stout, and some of the buildings have crumbled over time, repaired by less divine hands and even less divine methods. And the city has expanded in ways unexpected, such as a shanty town at the very edge outside the outer walls, a pce known as Beggar’s Blossom.

  “That’s where I come from,” Homer idly remarked. “Beggar’s Blossom is a good pce. Dirty and dangerous, but good. Surprisingly easy to get into the city too. There’s holes in the walls that only Beggar’s Blossom locals know about. They get plugged up during times of trouble, but moving in and out of the city through them is so common the guards don’t give us common rabble the sort of trouble they should be giving, per rules…”

  But they weren’t heading there. Homer knew a good inn with a stable that would take care of their carriage and horse until this business was done and dusted,

  “and once you’re done, you can find a rider to take you back, or sell it, or whatnot.”

  Because, of course, he wouldn’t be here to ride Maia back to her hovel after all was over if things went according to pn. That bck lump in her stomach kept pulsating at the thought, but she wasn’t going to question him here, at the precipice of it all.

  The Gallivanting Galnt was an inn with history behind it, or so Homer cimed. Many questing knights had rested here during their journeys to gain the favor of certain gods, and even a few Steels had visited the inn. Perhaps this was true some hundreds of years ago, but now the Gallivanting Galnt was a corner pub with a shady reputation and a half-broken sign. It was supposed to depict a knight on a horse, but the lower half had been torn off- some say by an angry giant, others by a storm.

  The hanging knight with no legs swaying in the breeze didn’t elicit much confidence in the establishment’s prestige, but it was the best they had on short notice. The owner was a stout young dwarf by the name of Grisilde, daughter of an army friend that Homer had met on the front during the civil war. The poor sod had passed on from disease, but his daughter took after him.

  “Alright, folks. Let’s sit down and talk strategy.”

  The long table at the corner was taken by the trio, Aymanah perched on the table itself while Homer and Maia took seats next to each other.

  “We’ve got ten days for the Day of Rebirth. Eleven technically, but we’re going to be spending today settling down after the journey, so the countdown starts tomorrow. We have to figure out how to gain permission to attend the event by then. Neither of you have any pre-established connections in the city, and while I’ve got some army buddies still around, none of them have the pull to get us in. We need to do something big and important to earn an invitation, or we could bribe some noble or priest to make us a part of their entourage…”

  Homer cocks his head towards Maia.

  “Or she convinces her divine girlfriend to tell them to let us in.”

  Her sputtering is answer enough- illogical bemoaning, denials of such a retionship, and so on.

  “As we can hear, that doesn’t seem to be possible. The gods are guests at the event, and cannot decree entry. A concession to the priesthood… And likely something to ensure that Life doesn’t invite his thousands of descendants and current lovers and whatnot.”

  Life’s promiscuity was accepted and understood, but Maia could also accept that such a solemn event becoming the god’s family gathering might make the mood shift a bit too much for what was to be accepted. She’s still feeling her pale cheeks burn a little hot at Homer’s idle drive-by teasing, but she tries to ignore it.

  “We could try and entreat a noble to let us in. You two have no way of knowing any… I know a few old farts from the military, but I didn’t reach high enough to actually get clout with them. Unlikely. If we went to ask they might send us on some far fetched quest that’d take too long. They invite rich merchants and some other local important non-nobles. Maybe we could cozy up to those?”

  Aymanah shrugged, entirely decoupled from the conversation. Maia couldn’t bme her; the harpy was so out of their element here. No human contact besides the two of them did that. Maia thought about jokingly suggesting that they’d carry Maia and drop her into the event, but that was bsphemous to even think of.

  “Or I could go to the colosseum. They hold tournaments at this time for some valiant fighters and knights to try and attract the attention of nobility and priesthood, with the winners gaining attendance to the ceremony. Would be real rough competition, though. As much of a workhorse as I am, I don’t know if I can shred through the dder in ten days.”

  Maia had come to rely on Homer’s martial ability for so long now that she’d feel even worse throwing him into even more mortal danger, especially when his own goal was so close now. Could they afford to tire him out when he had to fight War soon? If he even got the chance… Maia sinks in her seat, temples rubbed with two fingers each. Think, think,

  ah!

  “Hermes!” Her hands then sp down on the table, startling Aymanah a little. Their bristling goes ignored for now. “Hermes! A man I met at the very start of my journey! He’s a merchant! I- I don’t think he’s the richest out there, but he said he had friends in the city I should ask around for! Or maybe even he himself is here- I… That seems highly unlikely, er…”

  And then her enthusiasm sputters off. Homer pats her shoulder.

  “I think that’s as good a lead as any. Worth pursuing tomorrow after we’ve settled properly and left our things here. The city’s huge, but I know a quick way to the merchant’s quarter from here. We can start our hunt for Hermes and his friends from there.”

  That’s about all the constructive pnning they got done before Grisilde brought the food and drink. Despite the dubious look of the tavern, the food was downright opulent compared to the rations; fresh bread and butter, crab from the sea, freshly squeezed milk and even some golden apples from the upper city gardens. The old fence got them for her, she cims.

  Feasting turned to drinkíng, drinking turned to settling in for the night, and soon enough Maia finds herself in a comfortable bed. Aymanah is rooming with her, although they sleep by perching at the end of another bed- Homer has his own room.

  This was it, huh.Settles in real good as she stares at the ceiling. Ten days and she’d meet Death face to face and receive liberation from her condition.

  It’d be so… sweet-before she can think further on the matter, Maia falls into a deep, deep slumber.