Phealafarian Frontiers: 04: Welcome to New Albion
The road back to New Albion was quiet, a stark contrast to the tension of the previous night. The scent of damp earth filled the air as a light mist curled around their boots, though the crispness of the season had yet to fully set in. The group travelled at a steady pace, the distant howl from the early morning still lingering in their minds. Eldrin and Tosk, having been the only ones to hear it, exchanged glances but said nothing.
As the miles passed beneath their feet, the weight of their first real success settled in. Tosk, still revelling in his feat of suplexing a wolf into a well, took every opportunity to recount the event with increasing embellishment, much to the mixed amusement and exasperation of the group.
The towering walls of New Albion came into view by midday, standing tall against the misty skyline. The group made their way through the crowded outskirts toward the South Garrison, where they were expected to report back. The city bustled with activity—merchants called out their wares, and the scent of roasting meats drifted through the streets.
Upon arriving at the garrison, they were directed to a briefing chamber where Elowen Starleaf awaited them. The high elf councilwoman listened intently as they recounted the events in Silverdale, nodding along but occasionally furrowing her brows in thought. When the subject of their combat against the wolves came up, she looked mildly surprised.
“I admit, I did not expect you all to take such an… aggressive approach,” she mused. “But I cannot argue with the results.” She paused, considering. “Though the wolves may have fled for now, the issue could still persist. Regardless, you have done well.”
She set aside a parchment and gave a small smile. “As a reward for your service, I am pleased to inform you that you have been granted citizenship of New Albion.”
Without much delay, Elowen personally escorted them to the City Gate, leading them through a side entrance away from the usual commotion of the main road.
Inside a well-furnished room, she retrieved a bundle of decorated parchments, each adorned with a red and gold ribbon. Alongside them, she placed small golden needles before addressing the group.
“These are your citizenship tickets. They serve as proof of your standing within the city and track any Phaela-Credits you earn. To bind them to you, simply prick your finger and place a drop of blood on the parchment.”
She allowed a pause, letting the weight of the moment settle before continuing.
“As citizens of New Albion, you are now part of something greater. This city is a beacon of civilization on the continent of Phaelafera. Whether you choose to forge your path as adventurers, craftsmen, scholars, or merchants, the opportunities before you are boundless. New Albion thrives because of its people—those who explore the unknown, who bring prosperity, and who protect its walls. In return, it offers you shelter, support, and a place to call home.”
Her expression turned more serious. “However, understand that citizenship is both a privilege and a responsibility. This city does not tolerate lawlessness. While you are free to make your own way, let me be clear—if you involve yourselves in crime, your status here can and will be revoked.”
She gave a firm nod, then gestured toward the parchments again. “Now, let us complete this binding.”
One by one, the party followed her instructions. As each drop of blood met the parchment, the papers glowed faintly, the magic settling into place. Tosk, ever opportunistic, pocketed the needle before anyone could stop him.
With their citizenship secured, the group now had free passage into New Albion—a hard-earned victory.
As Guardian pressed the needle into his fingertip, his drop of blood hit the parchment, and an immediate surge of power rushed up his arms. His hands trembled as he felt the arcane energy course through his body, reigniting something that had been lost for too long. He clenched his fists, determined to hold onto it, pushing back against the pressure building inside him.
Barely able to contain the energy, he strode swiftly outside. The moment his boots met open ground, Guardian raised his hands high above his head, and with a breath of exhilaration, let it all loose. A crackling Eldritch Blast shot skyward, illuminating the overcast sky for a brief moment before fading into the clouds.
His magic had returned.
Before they could part ways, Elowen gestured to one of the attendants, who stepped outside briefly. Moments later, a familiar, relaxed voice called out, “Hey, dudes! Look at you, all official now!”
Vanryn ‘Sweets’ Xyrquinal strolled in, grinning. He clapped Tobias on the shoulder before spreading his arms dramatically. “You saved my hide back there, so I figure I owe you. Consider yourselves honored guests of The Tavern With No Name—my place.”
He led them through the winding streets until they arrived at the oddly unmarked establishment. The building itself looked solid, but it had an air of abandonment, the sign swinging slightly in the wind as if it, too, was unsure of its purpose.
“Yeah, so, funny thing,” Sweets admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought a nameless tavern would be, like, super mysterious, y’know? Turns out it just makes people think it’s closed.”
He sighed dramatically. “Also, I don’t have the Phaela-Credits to register an actual name, so… here we are.”
Despite the questionable branding, the inside of the tavern was warm and welcoming, a perfect place to start their new chapter within the city walls.
