----------------------------------------
Chapter 20
There was no lull in Ezabel’s delight, not while she stood at the front of the wagon. Her foot rested against the driver’s seat and her arms looped around the top of the canopy so that she could lean in whichever direction she chose. After a long night of travel through cozy hills and whistling prairies, they had finally arrived. Gracewind stood just over the next mound, Leland had told, which saw Ezabel and Dani hanging off the cart in excitement.
Every bit of Melle was welcoming. It had been that way for the last three days of travel. The breeze was cold, yet fresh to the skin; it gave forth a soothing tingle every time it combed through Ezabel’s loose locks. The land had opened wide and the mountains had gone far off. It was a freeing sensation, one that roused her sense of adventure and the need to embrace the open world.
“Leland, Leland!”, Ezabel shouted as she hung off the side of the wagon.
“Yeah?”
“How much more until we-?”
The road lifted their cart onto the peak of a small knoll, where Ezabel’s eyes opened wide in awe. The sun casted brilliance upon open land, atop of which a sea of red roofs flowed across the horizon. High towers and white walls clothed their boundaries with sheen. The structures settled beautifully against the land, even when it rose into hills and dipped into valleys. There were dense bundles of homes and loose streams of roads, both of which numbered more than she could count. It felt like another world entirely, the allure of the unknown. How could there be so many people in one place? It was difficult to imagine, even as it stood there before her.
She could not help but smile. Not so wide as to laugh, but enough to encourage her spirit. After years of reading the same tall tales over and over again, she was now in the midst of her own. It was happiness. It was eagerness. It was hope. An intricate blend of emotions that all boiled down to a single thought: Xavier and Vance once saw this same view. She felt closer now than ever. Her verdant eyes honed in on the peak of the city, where the Citadel towered strong above the rest.
°°
Like the others, Gracewind’s northern gate was an imposing threshold, taller than most around it. It loomed above their wagon and casted a great shadow in which Ezabel and Dani impatiently sat. The caravan had been held up by the guardsman at the gate, who took great strides in ensuring each cart was of proper disposition. There were four wagons ahead of them now. Altogether, it was a far less splendid way to arrive than they had hoped for.
Still, Ezabel leaned off the side and peered down the path. She could spy a sliver of the city’s interior and hear the distant sounds of business. Voices shouted every which way, horseshoes clopped against cobblestone, and the sound of forges rang true. Even from here, it was already far more lively than Alm. The wait was excruciating and she found it difficult to sit still.
“What’s all that on the floor?”, Dani asked suddenly.
When Ezabel turned to look, Dani pointed forward. All around the gate and under wagons was the beginnings of a thin layer of white. It curled in places and shone a familiar, waxen hue. Ezabel squinted and soon realized that they were sword bells. Or rather, their petals. The very same flowers that bloomed around the valley under Graycliffe.
“Sword bells.”, Leland answered. “It’s tradition for the people to throw their petals over those that want to become Attendants. - The candidates from Angoulet arrived a few days ago. It must be the leftovers from their welcome.”
“Are they going to welcome us like that too?”, Ezabel took in a hopeful breath.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Leland leaned back in his seat and glanced lazily through the gate. No one was waiting for them. Not a single basket of petals could be seen anywhere. It was just the same old hustle of city life. Though, it seemed even busier now that the festivities were in full swing. - All hope for a grand welcome had gone when Leonora and the other candidates arrived without them. Ezabel and Dani knew that well, though they kept silent. Had it not been for Leland, they would not have come this far. They had ‘officially’ failed the assessment, after all. So, they swallowed their pride and took the loss quietly.
When the time came for them to roll forward, the sheer magnitude of the city’s walls grew ever clearer. Its depth ran the length of three horses and appeared to be entirely made of a dense stone. Even at a distance, Ezabel could see the extent of its fortitude as it enveloped them. And, all about its base, sword bells bloomed where they could. - A member of the town guard stepped beside them. As with the rest of his retinue, he was lightly armored. Leather adorned the majority of his garb and thin plates of metal rested where they would not be a hindrance. A sword hung quiet on his belt whilst his spear was used like a walking stick.
“Captain Leland!”, the guard uttered in surprise. “Welcome back, you’ve made it just in time for the start of the festival.”
“Lucky me.”, Leland replied with a sarcastic grin. “We’re bound for the Citadel. Mind if we go on through?”
“Of course! - Just give me a moment to run the usual check by your companions.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Really? They’re clean, I promise.”
“Sorry, you know how strict things get this time of year!”
“Yeah, fine. Just hurry it up.”, Leland sighed.
Dani stepped toward the edge of the wagon closest to Ezabel. As if routine, she unfurled her sleeves and wound them up to her elbows. When the guard came close, he gave both of Dani’s arms a quick glance and nodded. - It was a procedure that was entirely foreign to Ezabel, which showed as soon as the guard turned to face her.
“Miss, your arms please.”, he stated.
She was puzzled for a moment, but eventually raised her arms and mirrored all that Dani had done. She rolled her sleeves high and allowed the guard to go about his inspection of her. It was quick and seemed almost pointless.
“Alright, head on through!”, the guard shouted and signaled with his hand.
Leland rode forward and their wheels hiked up a small ledge from dirt to cobblestone.
“Why did he need to see our arms?”, Ezabel asked as she fixed her sleeves.
“Larger cities like this brand criminals with certain marks in order to tell them apart. They’re usually placed on the arms.”
“Really? What do they look like?”
“I’m not sure, we don’t use them in Hollowsong. But, who cares. As long as they know we’re not the bad guys, right?”
Dani smiled and turned immediately to the front of their cart, where the gate led into the openness of a grand and busy street. A clean row of round hedges parted it down the middle so that the thoroughfare found two directions. Sturdy buildings flanked either side; they were so tightly put together that it was difficult to discern where one structure ended and another began. Never before had either of them seen such a sight. So, there was no surprise when their conversation fell quickly into obscurity while they marveled at the sight.
All around them, people moved up and down broad sidewalks. They hustled and slowed. They weaved and they clumped. And, all throughout the scene were the rough and ready stalls of businesses that sought to capitalize on the city’s liveliest time of the year.
The smell of food, the vibrant storefronts, there was even a fire blowing performance in broad daylight; neither Ezabel or Dani could engage fully in one sight before being distracted by the next. There was simply too much for them to behold. But, they would not have had it any other way. The capital was booming with life. Everything they had been told of the city was true.
“First thing’s first..”, Leland stated aloud. “..I’ll have someone else show you to your rooms when we get to Citadel. You’ll be staying with the other sponsored candidates, so try to behave.”
“Yeah, sure.”, Ezabel answered without much thought. Her gaze was far too occupied with the passing views.
“What about you?”, Dani added.
“I have some business to take care of before the evening.”
°°
Gilford’s shout was fearsome enough to make an ogre scurry back into its cave. It bellowed deep and forcefully unnerved his adversary as they clashed in the center of the sparring field. It was a square of stone laid in a laced pattern directly onto the grass around. There, Gilford swung his great axe in a wide arc before a small crowd. The sheer force behind his strike not only deflected his opponent’s sword, it sent the weapon flying away completely to the far side of the square. For the third time that afternoon, Gilford’s imposing frame stood like a victorious statue amidst the walls of the stronghold
“What a pitiful sight!”, Gilford shouted.
The man below him wasted no time and scampered off the square without even having properly returned to his feet. He disappeared behind the row of spectators, each of which obviously averted their gaze whenever Gilford looked their way. His physique surpassed the majority of his peers both in height and brawn. He was a brute of a man, made clearer now by the unhindered sun. Dark hair ran back and down his neck like a slicked mullet. Whether it was oil or sweat that made it shine in the daylight was anyone’s guess. However, above all was the small pair of horns that protruded from either side of his forehead.
He was one of the Omon, that much had become plain to see by all around. His brutal strength, sizable physique, and unfazed condition were suddenly explicable. In an even contest of muscle, there was not a human around that could best his kind. They were taller, denser, and far more robust; as a wolf was to a dog. So, an unspoken air of reluctance began to twist among the bystanders.
“You’re all a waste of my time!”, he shouted once more. “None of you have the guts to step in the ring with me, I can see it in your eyes!”
While he got the better of his challengers, there was still frustration on his face. There was no glory to be had by beating down weaker opponents. No one would care. No one would pay him any respect. To Gilford, it was the same as having no witnesses at all. He needed a proper spectacle. Something that would not only draw the attention of his peers, but the eyes of the Attendants that observed the quad.
They were a small handful. Most stood atop the balconies and walls that hung over the crowd. The whites of their cloaks could be seen even from below, which caught Gilford’s hunting gaze. He needed their recognition. How else could he make a name for himself? - He gave them all a scowl. They were like sentries judging him from high places, he could not see them any other way. They observed his display of power and offered little to no reaction. It was enough to churn his bitterness into the open.
It was then that a hushed commotion rose in the distance. The attention had shifted away from Gilford considerably and fell instead towards a man who made a short walk across the yard. Much of the area had gone into disarray when the candidates migrated over to use it. It would have been difficult to pick anyone out of the mess. But, this man was an exception. He had been given a wide berth and was flanked by two Attendant Knights as he traveled through the crowd.
Despite the hushed voices and plain conversations around him, the man displayed little but indifference. He walked with a refined step and held the disposition of a trained aristocrat. Even without his impressive escort, he was a beacon that drew much consideration. After all, he was a sponsored noble, and that was plain to see for all that looked his way. But, where most of his kind would have nepotism and bias placed around their presence in the Citadel, he received none whatsoever. His name was Kieran Addington, and his potential was undoubted. - The chatter did not refute.
“He’s the prince of Port Kaywin..”
“Is this supposed to be a joke?”
“Why are we being put up against the son of Gatrie Addington..”
“L-Lord Gatrie Addington, the hero?”
Hubert, who Gilford had pressured into coming to the yard, looked on with reluctance. As a noble, he paled in comparison. Kieran was an unsettling sight, one that reminded him of every shortcoming he had. It was like looking into a mirror. Only, the reflection carried itself higher, felt prouder, and gave no effort to look back. So, while the stares of those around him followed the hero’s son, Hubert pushed his own towards the grass at his feet. He simply could not watch any longer.
Gilford, on the other hand, had contempt oozing from his glare. To him, Kieran was a spoiled brat whose only accomplishment was being born in the right family. There was nothing about him that was deserving of a sponsorship or a captain’s regard. Nobles were nothing but dainty sprites who could not stand under the pressure of a true warrior. He wanted nothing more than to smear their smug reputation in front of the entire yard. Unfortunately, Kieran spent no more than a handful of seconds in the open and disappeared through the doorways on the farside of the quad. - Luckily, Gilford had the next best thing.
“Hubert!”, he called out with a leer. “Let’s fight.”
----------------------------------------