"Woah…"
Both Norman and Matthew stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide with awe.
Before them towered the Sea Gate of Rothelney, an enormous arch of steel and ivory stone, bound together by pulsing runes and enchanted chain mechanisms. Twin sea walls jutted into the ocean like arms of a giant, bristling with cannons, watchtowers, and spotlights that scanned the ships moving in and out of the harbor. Guards lined the battlements above, rifles slung across their backs, eyes sharp beneath plumed helmets.
The clang of boots echoed as a stern-faced gatekeeper stepped forward, halberd in hand.
"Halt!" he barked, raising a gloved hand. "ID's? Or pay the entry toll."
Leo, Matthew, and El each reached into their packs and produced silver dog tags—their recently obtained mercenary identification. Norman, curious, leaned over to get a look.
"I see you applied as mercenaries?" he said, raising a brow.
