CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
The archminister hadn’t lied when she said Aulton was still under construction. In fact, Evylin thought she greatly understated the amount of work that still needed to be done.
Nestled on a vast plateau in the mountains, Aulton resembled a blend of ruin and renewal.
The contrast was clear in the lush, overgrown greenery and the ancient, weathered stone of the city.
It was as if the growth and decay were at odds, with dilapidated buildings and crumbling walls juxtaposed with bustling activity and the magical rebuilding carried out by the new residents.
Several miles away, Evylin could see the Aulden Palace rising in the center of the city.
It was a vague shadow in the distance, a beacon of regrowth.
She didn’t know much about the Aulden Mages or their city, but Deckard had told her what he’d learned through his personal studies and the tales he’d heard during life in the army.
Aulton was a remnant of the past, showcased by its unique architecture and layout.
In contrast to the tall, angular buildings of greater Allund, which were characterized by their symmetry, wrought iron accents, and traditional designs, Aulton embodied the ancient Isle culture, preserved since the era when the Aterian Relics were sealed away.
As they drew closer, Evylin finally grasped what Deckard had described.
The ancient city, over a thousand years old, was arranged in a circle of dense foliage, a patchwork of buildings, and winding streets.
Some of the broken russet-brown and gray stone walls still stood, displaying the grand turrets and spiked battlements that encircled the massive city.
The city gate featured a rusted portcullis, its arch half-demolished.
One of the gate doors lay flat on the ground, the terrae long ago beginning its reclamation.
Even in the bright sunlight, Evylin felt she was entering a haunted city from one of her novels.
She could easily picture the lingering ghosts of the past in Aulton.
The abandoned homes and shops built of weathered stone created a sinister atmosphere.
Twisting vines marred the facades, and wild branches shattered the windows.
The cobblestone streets were in ruins, prompting them to steer their horses and carriages cautiously.
However, they passed through this forest of destruction to find the grand revitalization of which Archminister Essen had spoken.
Slowly, the buildings began to transform, their ancient architecture restored to its former glory.
Soaring towers, pointed arches, grand tracery, and intricate carvings adorned every structure.
Homes, businesses, kirks—Deckard called them chapels, stating that kirks were meant for the Shires.
Everything appeared decorative and overwrought to Evylin’s eyes. And it was gloriously beautiful.
As they entered this renewed section of the city, the streets became smoother. The plant life was tamed, vibrantly flowering in early summer. Blossoms of yellow, pink, and white brightened the once-dreary homes. The very air and aura of Aulton lightened.
Everywhere she looked, men and women worked upon the buildings, using tools and magic to advance the city.
A few soldiers roamed, while many workers carried weapons, though she noted they were often just daggers.
Despite this, a sense of peace and focus prevailed as they worked, indicating that the threat of attack didn’t worry them.
As they arrived at the heart of central Aulton, Evylin discovered a glimpse of its former beauty.
Purposely arranged manicured trees and flower beds infused the dry, stone city with vitality.
An intricate fountain trickled water to the side of the road, with benches positioned around it, inviting passersby to enjoy the tranquility it offered.
The restoration all seemed to bloom outward from the city center, where the majestic Aulden Palace towered above them.
Fashioned more as a citadel than a palace, its stunning tan stone walls soared high with arches and columns that reminded Evylin of the Keeps.
Its cylindrical shape mirrored the city around it, the palace reaching an impossible thirty stories.
Above that, eight statues rose majestically into the clouds, adding to its already grand stature.
Its width was beyond Evylin’s estimation, and she wondered how long it would take to get from one side to the other.
All in all, Evylin determined that this city was the most stunning and thoughtfully designed place she had ever encountered. Loclight and Mouroc couldn’t compare to its splendor.
The streets led up to Aulden Palace, where stone walkways transitioned into lush gardens.
At the forefront of their group, the two soldiers who had joined them at the gate came to a stop as they approached the massive staircase that ascended to a pair of oak and iron doors.
Servants rushed forward to assist the ministers as they exited their carriages.
A third carriage had been offered to Deckard and the team, but they opted to ride their own horses instead.
Even Calyn decided to ride alongside them, asserting that she wasn’t a child and didn’t require coddling.
“In that case,” Evylin had told her sister, “you’d better wear trousers. If you’re going to be an adventurer, you should look the part.”
At the foot of the steps, two strangers greeted them with broad smiles. One was a tall, pallid man wearing a long navy coat, and the other was a blonde woman in a gray overcoat adorned with a colorful glass brooch at her collar.
“Welcome, everyone,” the man said as they bowed together.
His deep voice carried a Western accent, and as he stood, Evylin noticed his eyes gleaming with a green flash.
“I’m Highlord Wilkinsone, and this is Clerk Fairburne.
We are delighted to have you here in Aulton.
Ministers, if you will follow me, I shall escort you to your rooms. Colonel and Private Deckard, Captain Lohen, Captain Deckard, Miss Glaas—” he gestured to the woman beside him, “Clerk Fairburne will guide you to your chambers.”
“Please, call me Gisele,” the woman said, her own lilting accent apparent as she spoke.
As the servants and soldiers tended to the horses, carriages, and luggage, the parties followed the highlord and Gisele through the grand entrance into an awe-inspiring foyer.
Light poured in from every direction through cross-hatched iron and glass windows.
The ceilings soared twenty feet at their lowest point, arching above with intricately painted domes.
The foyer seemed endless, curling around to the left and right and dotted with columns supporting the weight of the structure.
The vast room bustled with people dressed similarly to the pair who had received them.
Some wore long robes of varying colors—predominantly green, blue, red, gray, and yellow—while a few donned white robes adorned with colorful patches, marking them as Mages.
However, the majority sported coats and dresses, adorned with brooches or pins like those worn by Gisele, indicating they were likely non-magical members of the Alliance.
If not for the unique uniforms, Evylin might have overlooked the lone man across the room.
He was dressed similarly to their own group, wearing dark brown trousers, riding boots, and a light linen jacket that hung open over a tan shirt.
The man was conversing with a shorter individual clad in a gray uniform.
“Vayden!” Thom called.
The man lifted his blond head, a welcoming smile spreading across his face the instant he saw their team.
“About time you all showed up,” he said, hurrying over to meet them.
The man with whom Vayden spoke followed him at a respectful distance while Gisele stepped aside, a patient expression on her face as she waited for them.
Thom and Vayden grasped hands and patted each other on the back.
He shared a more affectionate embrace with Brea before offering Calyn a courteous bow and shaking Deckard’s and Evylin’s hands.
“It’s great to see you all again,” he said, his voice radiating a warmth that was missing when he departed Loclight a month ago.
Though his blue eyes still held a sheen of sadness, it was evident that the month since Isla’s loss had fostered the beginning stages of healing despite the calluna flower on his jacket.
Deckard patted his shoulder and grinned back. “Great to see you as well. Did your daughter come with you?”
Vayden nodded. “Yes, she’s in the apartments with Ilain and Ethenn. As I’m not my sister, I don’t require five hours of scrubbing to look my best, so I decided to figure out this maze of a building with Cris here.”
When Vayden gestured to the young man, Evylin noticed that after they greeted their friend, Brea had moved past them to speak with him. Playfully, she tapped the youth on the chin and laughed as he shook his head at her, the pair talking quietly while the others were greeting each other.
Brea brought him over. “Everyone,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “This is my nephew, Cristopher Lohen.”
“You can call me Cris,” the young Lohen said with a subtle Schonese accent. The family resemblance was clear through his round face, full brows, and well-defined cheekbones. However, he bore bronze-brown skin rather than Brea’s richer, creamy brown complexion.
“Nephew?” Calyn gasped. “But you look . . .”
“The same age?” Brea asked, smirking. “Yes, that tends to happen when your aunt is a Warrior.”
Cris’s sly grin was a replica of his aunt’s. “It’s an unfortunate truth in our family,” he said, then gave Calyn a more genuine smile, his long lashes framing his rich gaze handsomely. “You get used to it.”
A pink flush came to the young woman’s temples, her brown eyes wide as a slow, shy smile came to her lips.