Milagre was huge, even by modern city standards. Sure, there were no skyscrapers, but from end to end, the city sprawled over a mile, nearly taking up the entire horizon. Eric couldn’t fathom why it had only come into view with half an hour of riding. Sure, the woman’s horse was pretty fast, but they couldn’t have covered that much ground, surely.

“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly. “You never told me.”

“You only just realized that?” She replied with a laugh. “It’s Emma. Emma Ciayol.”

The horse slowed down from its full gallop as they drew closer to the city. When it finally reached a slow trot, Eric realized just how tall the walls were. They were made of solid stone, with the occasional sign of wood atop the walls. It loomed over the horse, reaching about thirty feet into the air. That made it taller than his house, he thought. A lot taller.

Emma drew back on the reins again, bringing the horse down to a walk. There were a dozen men standing at the gate to the city. It seemed like a small force to guard the structure, which was easily fifteen feet tall and another twenty wide. A veritable crowd was traveling in and out of the city, their voices mingling with each other until it became a senseless babble of noise.

One of the guards looked up suddenly at the sound of Emma’s horse clattering across the wide drawbridge, but relaxed almost at once, as he seemed to recognize her. In defiance of good order, he raised a hand in welcome. Emma smiled widely as she saw him, and edged the horse to the side, coming within easy speaking distance.

“Good evening, Emma,” the guard said. “We were starting to worry that you’d lost your way. Another hour and your father would have sent a search party.”

Emma laughed in reply. “Pa can survive without me for a day. Besides, we needed fresh herbs, and the forest is the only place for them.”

The guard nodded. “That’s true. But try not to worry him, will you? He’s not getting any younger, and I don’t want him grumpy when I visit.”

“He may be almost senile, but he’s still the best healer in Milagre.”

“Aye, that be the truth,” another guard said. “Well, we’re glad you’re back Lady Emma. Who is this you be dragging with you?”

“I found him at the forest’s edge,” Emma explained, then turned to face Eric. “Come to think of it, you never told me your name, either.”

The guards, realizing that he was a complete stranger, looked suspicious. One even put his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, and Eric spread his hands in an act of innocence again. Everyone in this world was so distrusting of strangers, he thought. But he could afford to take it lightly. Sooner or later, he’d wake up from this strange dream. Might as well enjoy the new scenery while he could, he thought.

“Eric,” he said with a smile. “Eric Breeden. I’m new to the land.”

“And where would you be from, Eric Breeden?” Yet another guard had joined the conversation, raising his voice so he could be heard from a few yards away.

Eric hesitated, not sure how to reply. He couldn’t say Fairbanks, Alaska. It was obvious that would mean nothing to them. Then they’d think he was crazy, and might even arrest him. A jail was not the place he wanted to spend the rest of his dream. He searched his memory, trying to think if he’d heard any other country or city names, but his mind was blank.

“He’s got the look of a Welsik about him,” the first guard said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Did you come in on a merchant ship, perhaps?”

Eric seized on the new information eagerly. “That’s right. I needed a break, and decided to hop on a ship over here.”

“He doesn’t look like a smith, though,” The second guard said. “Most of Welsik shapes metal in some way, but you look too scrawny.”

Eric ignored the slight on his appearance. “No, I’m not a smith. I’m hoping to be a soldier someday. I’m pretty good at fighting.”

Another figure appeared, just behind the shoulder of the first guard. He didn’t look like one of the city guards, wearing a long dark blue robe. His hair was long and messy, jet black and falling into his eyes. There was a white streak in the hair that stood out brightly, as did the shining purple eyes. At his side was a long blade in a dull blue sheath.

“He seems trustworthy enough, I think,” the new stranger said. His voice rang with an almost eerie smooth sound, as if he’d spent his life as a public speaker.

The guard in front of him spun around in surprise. “Lord Bragg! I didn’t hear you approach!”

The stranger grinned at the guard. It was clear he’d enjoyed spooking the man. He didn’t seem mean-spirited, but there was a definite mischievous air to him. He turned his smile onto Emma and her guest, and Eric felt a strange tingling sensation wash over him. Those purple eyes seemed to search him in an instant, learning his deepest secrets with ease.

“Good evening, Lady Emma,” the man said. “And good evening to your guest as well. I am Samuel Bragg.”

“Lord Samuel Bragg?” Eric asked, putting a little emphasis on the title. “You don’t have any guards with you. Shouldn’t a lord be escorted by men?”

He didn’t know what made him say it, though he regretted it almost at once. If he was a noble, then surely, like all medieval nobles, he’d be easily offended. The idea of jail seemed to creep a little closer. He could have kicked himself if that were possible while straddling a horse. But he saw with relief that Bragg seemed to take no offense. In fact, his grin widened, and it was clearly a genuine emotion.

“Just Samuel Bragg, if you please,” He said. “Even after all this time, I still don’t like formalities.”

The first guard cleared his throat as if trying to remind them all that he was there. “Well, Lord Bragg, please don’t let us keep you. If he seems alright to you, we’ll let him in. Stay safe on your trip.”

Samuel Bragg continued on his way, offering Emma, Eric, and the guards a small wave over his shoulder. He made it about twenty feet from the gates, then simply vanished into thin air. Eric stared at the space he’d disappeared from, his mouth hanging open slightly. He knew that teleportation magic was a popular idea in video games, but he’d expected it to make more noise.

The horse started moving suddenly again, and Eric was forced to grab Emma’s waist to retain his balance. He let go almost at once, muttering an apology, and the two of them rode in under the heavy wooden gate. The guards kept glancing at him with suspicion until they were properly in the city.

“He’s always going on one journey or another,” Emma said vaguely. “Never stays in the city for more than a few months at a time.”

“Who’s that?” Eric asked, his attention on the large cluster of buildings situated a safe distance from the walls. They seemed to be filled with people working, selling goods, or hammering metal. It was very noisy.

“Lord Bragg,” Emma explained. “He’s a busy man with all of his responsibilities, but he still finds the time to travel.”

“He’s one of the nobles of Milagre?”

Emma chuckled. “He’s a lot more than that. If you were any sort of a mage, you’d know all about him. He’s the Prime Mage, Archmage of Knowledge, and Champion of Arcana.”

Eric let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of titles.”

“Well, he’s been around a long time. He’s got some kind of magic that lets him live a long time.”

Eric frowned. “How old is he?”

“Nobody really knows. He was alive back when the country was still called Gorteau, and that was two hundred years ago.”

Eric’s jaw dropped again. Someone could live that long just by magic? “How do you know he’s really lived that long?”

“My grandfather told me stories about the times that he’d met him. And there are stories from his grandfather too. It’s well known that Samuel’s been around a while, but nobody knows just how long.”

Eric tried to digest that information, but it was just too much. He kept trying to ponder it as they went further into the city, crossing over a large bridge that spanned a river. The buildings around them were much nicer now, and the overall noise volume was much lower. There were still scores of people around, but most of the buildings’ lights were out.

“Here we are,” Emma said finally, pulling the horse to a halt outside a three-story building. “The Heron Tavern. Best inn in the city.”

They both dismounted, Eric with some difficulty. His legs had become stiff and saddle-sore with their trip, and he staggered a little as his feet hit the cobbled street. Clutching the saddle for support, he looked closer at the building. As it was a warm night, the front doors were wide open, letting out the smell of delicious food and happy indistinct voices.

“I hope it’s not expensive,” He said. “I only have ten coppers on me.”

Emma shook her head, smiling. “Mandra’s a nice woman. If you’re low on money, she always has work needing done around.”

“Okay then,” Eric said slowly. He’d probably wake up before he ran out of money, though. “Well, I assume this is where you say goodbye?”

She nodded. “I’m going home. My pa will be up still, and I don’t want him missing his bedtime.”

Eric grinned back. “Your father’s lucky to have you.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” she said as she remounted the horse. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Eric Breeden. I’ll come by in the morning to see how you fare.”

“Thanks for the safe trip,” he said. “I’d probably be exhausted if I’d had to walk.”

“I don’t know about that,” she threw back. “You seem capable, even if you sound like a bumpkin.”

She gave him a small little wave and flicked the reins, spurring the horse on further into the city. Eric watched her as she rode away, keeping his eyes on her back until the street turned and she faded from sight. Then he let out a sigh and turned to head into the Heron Tavern.