The hinterlands of Karkos were beautiful, in their own way. Efrain of course preferred the older, denser forests, not least because they tended to be far more interesting magically, but he couldn’t deny the charm of the low rolling hills. It didn’t take the company long before they found a road cutting between sunken fields and began to file two by two toward the distant mountains.
The earth was soft with the first rains, and Efrain noted that Tykhon sunk its webbed feet into it with obvious relish. Had he been designed for wet environs, then? A ridiculous image of the large creature swimming in the blue-green waters of the Emyaka came alive. Then Efrain the mount’s perfect willingness to throw itself into the waterfall on the giant’s spine.
The soldiers, having started the trek earlier in the morning, looked grey with fatigue. At the sight of the fields and mountains however, they’d perked up, and now were chatting casually as they made their way between the sparse trees. Efrain came to ride alongside the Niethe captain as they picked their way across.
“End’s almost in sight,” Efrain said.
“Almost,” she agreed, “though I have no fondness for the mud, so I hope that we get onto proper cobbles soon enough.”
“There should be a proper road or two, somewhere around here,” he said, “we’re still among the outer farms.”
To his surprise, it did not take them very long at all to find the broader, well trodden dirt of a road. Two hundred years of expansion and development had clearly widened the reach of Karkos. They were making a fine clip then on the dry, well packed earth, weaving between flooded patties of still-growing rice and great expanses of mature green-yellow rye. Peasants, labouring in the fields, often looked up and shaded their eyes, gawking at the sudden appearance of the soldiers. A few ran toward houses in the distance, even as some soldiers professed loudly that they were here in peace.
“War’s left a scar on this place?” Efrain said, not recalling any major conflict.
“They were spared the worst of it, unlike Ennen’Alla,” said Damafelce, “they fell in line quickly after that. Most of their conflicts are with pirates out to the south and east. They keep them well suppressed to please Angorrah, and to keep their own money flowing.”
“That must earn them some token good will at least,” Efrain said, craning his head to try and get a look at the city, and failing.
“Indeed,” Damafelce snorted, gripping the reins of her horse tighter.
Efrain decided not to press the point any further, but rather shift to the subject.
“So then, where are you going to house all these men? I hardly think any one inn will suffice for a hundred… hundred and fifty? Men.”
“They’ll make do somehow. We are knights of Angorrah after all,” she said, gesturing to a standard, “most of the cowards will come to heel. Those who aren’t know better than to try a row.”
“You sound like you have an axe to grind with them,” Efrain said dryly.
“It’s in the past,” Damafelce said, “I’m simply laying out the situation, as I see it.”
“Fair enough,” Efrain said, “have you ever been on a boat before?”
“Many times. How do you think I got here?” she said, giving him an odd look.
Efrain decided to leave off as they marched past a thicket of what looked like hazel. The woman had given him enough to mull over, even if she didn’t realise it. It was the better part of noon when they reached the inner farms, marked by a transition to smaller, well maintained fields, and larger buildings.
They broke for a brief lunch, there on the road, not bothering to clear a spot, or some to even dismount. Efrain, atop Tykhon, was approached by Naia, chewing on some kind of meat ration.
“Well, lord Efrain,” he said, swallowing the last of it, “we’re finally here, at little quicker than I’d hoped. I suppose old memories stirred me on.”
“Uh-huh,” Efrain said, neglecting to mention that this was a narrowing of the window they’d agreed upon the previous day.
“In any case, we are to meet with the leaders of the city. Riders I sent just returned bearing word. I would like you to be there as my guest, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said.
“Of course,” Efrain said, not bothering to second guess the commander.
“Damafelce,” he said, with a feigned pitiable expression on his face, “I regret to inform you that you’ll be in charge of supervising the soldiers and their accommodations.”
“You’re joking?” Damafelce said, looking unimpressed, “First you leave me in charge of a siege, now I’m cleaning their mess?”
“Precisely.”“If you’re not careful, I’m going to become general before you,” she said, holding up her hand in what was presumably some obscene gesture.
“Not if you don’t learn to delegate,” he said with a laugh, before turning back and trotting toward the front of the line.
“Does that mean I can shove my work off to others like you?” she called, before rolling her eyes.
“I see you two get along well,” Efrain said.
“If by ‘get along’, you mean he leaves me all the boring work,” she snorted.
“Well, it’s always useful to have someone to blame if things go wrong,” Efrain said, “the church’s been doing it to me for the past five centuries.”
That got him a laugh from Damafelce, and a promise to be more mindful of the less fortunate like himself. Within ten minutes, they were riding along, and soon came to a copse before a cobble bridge spanning a shallow river. Beyond lay a proper road, cut stones marching off into the distance. Still a distance away, they could see the outer wall of Karkos, wrapped in sea mists. Naia wheeled on his horse, and made for the troops to gather before him.
“All of you are here as representatives of Angorrah and the church,” he said, “keep to yourselves, answer questions when asked, and no insults, no drunkenness, and for Lost’s sake, if I hear that you start a quarrel with our hosts, I’ll have you pilloried in the central square for the whole city to stone you. Understood?”
A broad yell of assent rose among the assembled tropes, and they set off across the bridge and cobbles. The sun had arced low over the sky, and was starting to paint the mountains in red and purple when they finally arrived, following the curve of the road. It pushed through the farmlands and curled around and out towards the sea, where large beaches of white sand met the turquoise waters. It then moved back and wound its way up a sequence of small but steep hills, before coming untoward the main gate.
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The city had indeed greatly increased in size since Efrain had last been to the peninsula. This outerwall was not only relatively new, but twice the height of the old one and made of stone, rather than log palisades. On top, guards armed with bows and dressed in colourful yellow and black surcoats came to point and speak about the newcomers.
The heavy gate was lifted, a drawbridge set across what looked to be a natural river that coursed just outside the walls. At the forefront, there was a company of guards in plate and mail, bearing the standards of several of the great houses of the city, for no single one claimed dominion over the defence. The captain of the guard, a reedy man whose thickness of face was disguised by a considerable moustache, rode forward to herald himself and the city's defence.
“We have been expecting you, commander Naia,” he said, “the council of the wise would meet you within the city. We have prepared appropriate accommodation for your numbers, outside the city walls.”
Naia nodded, clearly having expected it.
“In that case, I will dispatch a contingent of soldiers to escort their men to their lodgings on the beach, if you don’t mind,” said the captain, gesturing for a couple men to come forward.
“Of course,” Naia said, “Captain, this is my right-hand, Damafelce. She’ll be overseeing the soldiers while I am in the city. Any complaints of their behaviour, should I not be available, should be addressed to her, and she will deal with the offenders.”
The captain nodded, not showing any surprise that a Niethe woman was of such import. Damafelce quickly smothered any sourness on her face at the prospect, and wheeled around, leading the bulk of the soldiers away. What was left were Efrain, the two paladins and their charges in a wagon, Naia and two of his captains.
“You’ll have to dismount and leave your creatures here,” said the captain, gesturing to a series of stonework stalls, seemingly built into the hill, “they will be well kept, I assure you. Only…”
His eyes fell upon Tykhon, who regarded him impassively.
“I must apologise, for I have never seen such a beast,” he said.
“Oh, he’ll be harmless,” Efrain said, sliding off his back, “though I don’t think the stables would be the best place for him.”
There was a trick with animals, particularly intelligent ones and magical attuned creatures, of which Tykhon was both. They might not be able to understand such abstract concepts like ‘north’, but direction was on the table, if articulated properly. Efrain used the memory of the white sand beaches to the south, and like lightning, Tykhon shot away, off the road and down toward the beach. The captain was left, mouth open as he watched the mount disappear down the hill.
“I’ve sent him to the beach,” Efrain said, “I think he’ll enjoy it there. No harm will come of it, unless someone should unwisely try to hunt him, though he’ll probably rather run than fight.”
“I’ll inform the patrols,” said the man, looking with not inconsiderable concern at the beaches in the distance.
“Well,” Naia said, also disgruntled at the haste of Tykhon, “now that that’s sorted, we’d best not keep the committee waiting. After you captain.”
The guard dismounted, and they passed by spearmen guarding the open gate. What they emerged out to was a cacophony - multistory buildings of brick and timber were packed closely together, open shop fronts bustling with people. All parted as the guard cleared a path, and stared at the visitors that walked behind them. The ringing of blacksmith hammers, the hawking of street-merchants and artisans, the strumming of various instruments and songs of the bubbly Karkosian language carried between the warm light of paper lanterns.
Soon, the street curved downwards to match the slope of the hill, the shops becoming a series of stepped counters and balconies. Out before them stretched the expanse of the cities, the buildings becoming larger, more colourful and more ornate as they approached the intersection with the sea and rose up the side of the mountains. In the centre of the street was a great wooden platform on wheels, and attached to a great series of pulleys and ropes passing along wooden posts, packed with crates and boxes. Behind it was a tower, with stacks of stones threaded through with the rope, presumably a counterweight of some kind.
Past that was the Karkos that Efrain remembered, built directly on three shallow lagoons that were sheltered somewhat from storms.
Still, even that was changed, the buildings, mostly stepped pyramids of stone, and the canals that surrounded them were now monstrously large, dripping with plants and vibrant stonework. High bridges and suspended streets of wood clung to their side, allowing boat traffic to cross beneath. He could even see, between the gaps of tall, multi storey towers built on top of the surrounding ziggurats, the Grand Square, where he’d often gone for recitations of poetry and plays. There was a familiar warm feeling in his heart - it was good to be back, even with such changes as they were.
“The committee wishes to meet you in the grand square,” said the captain, “it is some distance to the canal. I understand you have been travelling for some days now, we may take down the lift if you so wish.”
The assembled group agreed that they would be grateful for the chance to rest their legs, and they were ushered onto the platform. At the captain’s signal, they began to gain speed with the rest of the goods, controlled only through the tautness of the thick ropes. Efrain examined the cables as the wheels turned, sending them down inexorably to the end of the road, where it sank below the blue waters.
As they trundled down, Naia and the city captain began speaking in hushed Karkosian. Efrain leaned back against a stack of crates, pretending not to understand the conversation like Naia’s captains, who were visibly annoyed.
“Who is waiting for us?” asked Naia, “it’s been some years since I’ve been in the city.”
“The selected houses for the committee range commander,” said the captain, “most are of established blood, though there is an upstart. The houses of Perlago, Bramste, Frane, have elected to send representatives. Asssenda is an upstart house.”
“Only four?” said Naia, his brow furrowing, “what has happened? Why aren’t the other great houses there?”
“With due respect,” said the commander, “your message was rushed. Some of the house leaders might not have even received it. There are some that didn’t show for… other reasons, but they are largely consumed with the preparations for the Festival, commander.”
“Festival? What-” Naia said, before slapping his head, “by the gods. I completely forgot.”
The commander nodded, as Efrain tried to place his memory of the various festivals and feasts of Karkos. There were certainly several that fell broadly in the summer, but this had to be-
Oh.
“Oh dear,” said Naia, “this will… I had plans to commission a ship, perhaps several for the soldiers. We couldn’t hope to find one for days.”
“It’s unlikely, commander,” said the captain, “your timing was unfortunate.”
“If I had known, I wouldn’t have rushed,” laughed Naia, “the gods are intent on mischief it would seem.”
The captain of the guard laughed with him and agreed.
“Well, I suppose that is something we’ll have to discuss with the representatives,” said Naia, “after our trials, perhaps it would be good for the men to enjoy the Festival.”
“Of course, commander,” said the captain impassively as they continued down the hill.
There was scant conversation to eavesdrop upon as they made their way into the entrance of the launch, where the cobbles disappeared under the water. There were several, magnificently accented boats waiting for them, each piloted by large, powerful, and equally colourful polemen.
Efrain hopped from the platform’s edge onto the waiting boat, hardly disturbing it compared to Naia’s captain who clambered in after him. They pushed off the launch and turned into the canal, a corridor of intricately carved stone and multi coloured lanterns. As they picked up speed, Efrain noted the banners that were set out, large, thick, and, like everything else, intensely coloured. People on the bridges and walkways above stopped to turn and point at the travellers.
“Your name poleman?” asked Efrain in the formal Karkosian manner.
To his credit, the man betrayed only the slightest surprise that Efrain could speak the language fluently.
“Aman. How may I be of service?” he responded as he sent them forwards with another long stroke.
“I don’t mean to disturb your work, but I would like to know, if you have any knowledge, of course, of some of the city’s happenings.” Efrain said, happy that he could easily recall some of the more obtuse grammar, “It’s been some years since I’ve been in the city.”
“Of course,” said Aman, “that is wise. The houses come together for the festival, putting aside their quarrels. Only…”
Efrain waited patiently as they turned past another bridge, and moved to the south.
“There are two outstanding houses,” he said, looking around as if someone might be listening, “Madros and Carim, their dispute is most grievous.”
“Give it to me in brief, young man,” said Efrain, listening intently.
It seemed that two, he was assured, most venerable, sons of the two houses had gotten into a dispute that culminated in violence. The Madros son, first son of the family no less, had gotten a dire putrefaction that threatened his life. This naturally led to accusations of poisoned blades and dishonourable schemes, and an already fraught situation escalated. Apparently, the second son of Carim had hidden somewhere in the city, while the rest of the noble houses tried to calm the Madros.
“Still, the eldest houses have chosen not to intervene,” he said.
“Any particular reason why?” said Efrain.
“It’s not for this humble servant to know, but rumours run abound. Nothing certain,” said the man, keeping his eyes fixed on manoeuvring through the canals.
“I see, thank you,” said Efrain as they were propelled through an opening in a building that cut over the river. Servants were speaking in hushed tones as they passed the interior dock, loading barrels onto waiting boats. Finally, they emerged onto the grand square, a massive flat piece of interlocking masonry edged with bridges and steps. They were in the late stages of preparation, long sequences of covered tables and stalls spanned with ribbons and banners.
At the centre of the square there was a party of richly dressed individuals of various descriptions. All were heralded by bannermen carrying the standards of their houses. Efrain noted that it was mostly younger scions or older, presumably distant and less important members of the families that were represented.
As Naia’s party was assembled, they were introduced to the representatives of Karkos. Amicio Bramste, Veniz Peralgo, Audientore Frane, Keiren Assendra. The captain of the city guard, as well as the master of the docks were there, and one pudgy, bespectacled man, dressed in black. Unable to contain his excitement, the man rushed forward, stared directly at Efrain, and loudly proclaimed:
“Mentor Avencia, of the Belacore Academy! What a wonder and an honour to meet you, master Efrain!”
Naia stared at Efrain, the assembled nobles stared at Efrain, the paladins stared at him, the children, the master of the docks and the captain of the city guard. All looking as Efrain simply took the man’s hand.
‘Academy’? Efrain thoughts raced, ‘Belacore’ academy? What does that have to do with m- oh. Oh no.