Holdon. A medieval and cozy town nestled amidst the Forgotten Valleys, was built next to a river. It was known for its taverns, strong liqueurs, trade routes, craftsmen, and the generosity of its people in times of crisis. A relatively small settlement, Holdon’s size only added to its charm. People often told tales of how majestic the town looked during the golden hour—how everything seemed to turn to gold. That scenery, of a town so small yet full of life, inspired many bards and poets to visit and let their imaginations run wild.

Even Alexander Leighton, a young musician and storyteller at heart, had traveled far and wide to find inspiration in this town, described like one from a fairytale.

When he first arrived, his jaw dropped. Magnificent indeed, he thought. Lanterns hung on every corner of the town, filling the air with a warm, homey glow. He wandered the streets for hours, finding inspiration at every turn. Now, seated in a tavern, he drank and observed. Unable to contain his excitement, he started blurting out his thoughts, engaging the locals with unsolicited opinions, until the tavern owner and his sons had had enough. With an amused laugh, the owner had promptly thrown him out, but not before Alex managed to clutch his lyre and tuck it safely under his arm, as it had been thrown after him.

Now, Alex sat at the fountain in the town’s main marketplace, his messy hair falling in front of his face. He sighed, strumming a soft tune on his lyre, disappointed by the lack of company.