As the group passed through the city gates, the atmosphere shifted.
Gone were the scattered shacks and muddy paths of the outer settlement-within Alta, everything felt orderly and polished.
Stone buildings lined the streets, their walls neat and straight, windows framed in gleaming iron and glass.
Some had elegant balconies adorned with vibrant potted plants or hanging silks, while others displayed polished plaques announcing the trades within-tailors, scribes, and spice merchants.
Polished carriages rolled past, drawn by glossy-coated horses whose hooves clicked crisply against the cobbles.
Some bore noble crests on their lacquered doors; others had velvet curtains drawn tight, hiding their occupants from view.
A coachman cracked his whip, barely sparing the pedestrians a glance as he maneuvered around a corner.
To the right, a marble-fronted bathhouse exhaled warm mist, its scent mingling with the air that had shed woodsmoke and sweat, now infused with exotic oils, pungent spices, and the faint tang of sea salt.
Apothecaries flung open their doors, perfumeries filled the air with sweetness, and behind glass windows, jewelers displayed their finest gems, watched over by armed guards.
A chapel spire rose quietly above the rooftops, casting long shadows over a public garden and across a cobbled square, where children played.
The sounds, too, had changed. The sharp click of carriage wheels on cobblestones, the soft hum of conversation: it all carried a rhythm, a measured cadence.
Gone were the clangs of farm tools-here, it was the gentle clink of fine china and the rhythmic tap of polished boots on stone.
Alta did not shout. It whispered wealth and order.
-------
Rin's wings quivered as she glanced at the crowd, her discomfort palpable. A finely dressed woman whispered behind a gloved hand, while a man with a neatly trimmed beard narrowed his eyes before quickly looking away.
Stepping a little closer to Laya, she muttered, "They're staring again."
The unease in her voice was quiet, but it was there.
Laya gently brushed her fingers over the bridge of Rin's wings. "It's always like this inside the walls," she said with a sigh.
Rin lowered her head, folding her feathers in a little tighter. She tightened her grip on her satchel strap. "We haven't done anything to deserve it."
Lyndis, ahead of them, slowed her pace. She turned around, placing a firm hand on Rin's shoulder. "It doesn't matter," she said softly. "They'll always find a reason, even if there isn't one."
A brief silence settled between them-one of understanding, shared but unspoken.
Archus, nestled in his mother's arms, took in everything around him.
His wide eyes followed the shifting scenes- from the rough edges of the city's outskirts to the pristine elegance inside.
He couldn't yet understand the glances, the whispers, but there was a spark of curiosity in his gaze.
One day, he would understand why.
And with that, the group moved deeper into the heart of Alta.