As they journey toward Stormwatch, the days stretch long and languid. As they ascend to the apex of their journey, the city reveals itself in the distance. It stands as a colossus in the landscape, its presence commanding yet distant. Towering walls encircle the city and even taller ones its core. Its center resemble a titanic castle stretching kilometers wide.
Their path winds along the edge of the sea. Nature has carved a natural barrier, one of short pebble beaches and tall jagged cliffs. Waves crash upon the cliffs, bringing with them shards of crates and ships.
With each dusk, they set up their camp, taking turns to keep watch through the stillness of the night. The land here is peaceful, untouched by the chaos of banditry. The occasional cry of a seabird or the distant crash of waves are the only night disturbances.
In this serene backdrop, Gabriel and Astrid prove their independence. They show not only survival skills but also a composure and solemnity beyond their years. As the week unfolds, Finlay finds himself stepping back, his vigilance instinctively waning.
On the final day of their journey, their path weaves through an endless tapestry of fields. A few signs of life dot those golden expanses. An isolated grange here, a solitary house there, or an occasional garrison.
Joining a long line of waiting carts and people Finlay glances at Gabriel. "The man in a blue coat his Cedric. You should go … reunite with him."
Gabriel turns to Astrid. "See you soon I guess," he says, wondering if they will be able to see each other under their disguises.
"I'll make sure of it. Don't worry," she reassures, waiving him to go.
Stepping down the cart Gabriel sees the man at the feet of the gate. He's shadowed by guards as he takes note at each passing cart. One of them, a sergeant is discussing with him as they work. He's tall, pale white, with pushed back blond hair. His lapis mantle, embroidered with silver, emits wealth. Under his watch, the guards processing the entries seem anxious. Gabriel hastens, his mind shaping the reunion as he approaches.
One of Cedric's guards steps toward Gabriel. He holds his hand before him and orders, "Stop."
Gabriel slows down to a stop, his gaze on Cedric. "Dad!" Gabriel says with a heightened voice.
The guard glances to Cedric who shifts his gaze to Gabriel. He sets his notes aside and crouches to Gabriel level, holding his arm opened. Gabriel moves past the guard and hugs Cedric.
Cedric says, "Welcome home Alden. We missed you."
"I missed you too," Gabriel fakes.
"Your father wouldn't stop talking about you," one of the guard remarks.
Cedric stands up, and softly says, "We are done here, take the rest of the day off."
The sergeant interjects, "We should get you to the inner city."
"We'll only walk through the main avenue. But if you insist, one of you shall suffice."
"Thank you, Sir. Horton you're up," the sergeant orders.
One of the soldiers motions them to follow him as the gates open for them. The other guards, working at the gate to watch the passage of merchandises, are visibly relieved.
Passing the gates, the wall's shadow engulfs them. Tall, multi floored buildings grow on each other. Crowds fill the broad streets littered with shops and displays. In this city, almost nobody carries weapons. Everyone looks and acts honest and civil. Squads of guards patrol with a zeal that betrays the calm of the area. Yet, as they appear Gabriel is certain that a few gazes turned to Cedric.
Staring down anyone that approach them, Horton whispers, "Your dad told us you plan on joining the guard next week. Do you have a regiment in mind?"
"Not yet," Gabriel replies ignoring what the potential answers could be.
"He's aiming for officer school first," Cedric adds.
Horton smiles. "I hope you'll be one of the good ones," he jests.
Gabriel gaze settles on a bookstore. A type of shop he would not have imagine existed. Scribes sold books where he travelled, or they were taken from noble houses.
Cedric catches Gabriel's interest and suggests, "Would you like to visit this place?"
Gabriel hesitates, but taken by curiosity says, "Yes."
Horton sighs. "That's unsafe, Sir."
"Do you think yourself unable to defend us against an old lady?" Cedric retorts, already in motion.
The bookstore is a narrow arrangement of shelves. Unsorted books of various aesthetic and origin collect dust in them. In the back a scratching sound attracts Gabriel's attention. A woman, her long hair turned white by time, is writing, her gaze locked on her desk.
Cedric clears his throat. Surprised, the woman sits upright. She examines her visitors, and says, "Welcome Sir Ashencrown. And who might be your young companion?"
"I'm Alden Ashencrown," Gabriel states.
She frowns her brow. "I ignore you had a son, a nephew perhaps?" she asks.
Cedric laughs. "No, he is indeed my son. He's been abroad these past years," he explains, a hint of pride in his voice. He traces his finger on a book's side, drawing a line in the dust. "You don't have a lot of costumers."
She explains, "Times are rough. But the subventions are keeping the door opened for now."
Gabriel moves from shelf to shelf, looking at the various titles. He's drawn to a book title in the same language as the book 'Knight' that he began reading. Plucking and dusting it, he opens it. Short tales spanning no more than twenty pages each fill the book.
Cedric asks, "How much?"
"A silver to rent for a week, ten gold coins to buy," she answers.
Hearing the price Gabriel closes the book, shelving it back. Renting it would be an obligation he may not be able to fulfil. He stops as he hears coins sliding on wood. Cedric pays without hesitation.
The shop owner pockets the coins with haste. "Thank you for your patronage. Would you like anything else?" she says.
"No, that'll be it," Cedric replies, gesturing for Gabriel to come over.
"Thank you," Gabriel says happily.
As they step out, Horton probes, "Which book did you pick?"
"Vordal's velvet volumes," Gabriel answers showing the book's cover.
Horton squints at the title. "What's that language?" he wonders.
Gabriel shelters the book under his arm and answers, "Aether, that’s the language spoken on the continent."
Horton gaze locks on a man staring at them from across the street. Speaking with his back turned, he asks, "Why did you learn it? It's unlikely you'll ever meet someone from there."
Cedric joins, "We have dealings with settlements still perduring on the coast. It will be useful when receiving new citizens."
"Many languages around the world originate from Aether. Once I master it, it will be easier to learn them," Gabriel answers.
"I bet you're going to ace the written part of the entrance competition," Horton says.
Cedric denies with a sigh. He hands Gabriel three small books from his mantle. "He still needs to memorize our penal, labor, and commerce code. And the hierarchical structure of Vale," he says, expectation in his tone.
The hammering of metal snatches Gabriel's attention. An imposing opened forge occupied by ten workers is bursting with sparks and heat. They shape blades for future spears and swords. The finished piece, awaiting sharpening, are still steaming on the side.
Cedric halts at the sight. He says, "I'd like to inspect their work."
Horton sighs. "Sir, I must insist. We should avoid making stops," he pleads, resignation already seeping in his voice.
"Noted," Cedric says walking towards the forge.
The workers are young adults. Their hands tremble in pain with each strike. The vast majority carry bags under their eyes. One wavers as he pulls a glowing block of iron from the fire.
Cedric pulls out a notebook, parkouring its pages. He turns to Horton and says, "They indicated that fifteen people worked here when answering our request."
"They do look overworked," Horton says.
Cedric turns to a worker, and yells, "Where is the owner?" His voice barely pierces the choir of metal.
The worker yells back, "Home Sir."
Another worker quenches a blade in oil. His grip on the tongues fails and the blade clatters. Boiling oil cloud around him, catching on fire. He screams and jumps back, oil sizzling on his forearms and face.
The workers stop, their heads turn to Cedric. He asks, "How long have you been working for?"
On of them gazes outside, searching for the sun that is currently at its apex. He guesses, "Six or seven hours."
"And yesterday?" Cedric pries
"Double. We stop to sleep, and not for long," Another confesses.
Horton motions a squad of guards to come over.
Cedric takes out a piece of paper to write. "You, go to a Palliateers' house and get those burns treated," he orders.
The guards arrive at the edge of the forge. The sergeant walks up to Horton and Cedric. He asks, "Is there something we can help you with?"
Cedric hands him the note he wrote. "Get this taken to a Justicar. He will order an investigation of this forge for several labor code violations. You should place someone at Darnell Pelfrak's door, in case he tries something." As the guards leave with the message, Cedric turns to the worker. "This forge will soon be closed for investigation. You'll all receive fair compensation for the time of your technical unemployment." He leaves the forge, followed by Gabriel and Horton.
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"It's becoming more frequent," notes Horton.
Cedric stows his notebook. "The merchants' guild is clandestinely subsidizing their members to undercut their prices. Independent workers are compelled to either align with the guild or resort to illicit activities," he explains.
"Predatory pricing, or selling goods below cost to undermine competition, is a crime. Those convicted could face a year's imprisonment, a five-year prohibition from conducting business. And fines equal to the financial harm caused to rivals," Gabriel reads from the commerce code.
"If we start penalizing all guild-associated merchants, we'll trigger a slew of problems. Penal code, article thirty-three, paragraph four," Cedric points out.
Gabriel shuffles through the pages. "Article thirty-three: the act of encouraging a crime is subject to the same sanction as committing the crime. Paragraph four: if the incitement involved financial incentive, that amount becomes an additional fine."
"We still ignore who in the guild is responsible. But as soon as we get that information, the guild will have to pay a massive fine for their actions," Cedric explains.
"Why would the guild have to pay if the culprit is an individual?" Gabriel asks.
"Commerce code, article one through four," Cedric answers.
Gabriel reads through the pages as they walk. In Vale when someone commit a crime that profits an organization it splits the punishment. The organization suffers the fines, and the individuals the rest. Gabriel says, "I see."
As they walk through the main boulevard Gabriel spends his time reading the penal code. Sometimes he lifts his nose, seeing the wealth of many establishments. His life has been devoid of such sights until this day. Taverns that span a hundred meters, on several floors. Food shops, elsewhere usually the first floor of the family's house, which propose hundreds of products. Bakeries which grew queues a hundred long. Jewelries with impossible wide glass windows. Tailors exposing tens of unique pieces to be bought off-the-mannequin. This is the lowest part of the city. Yet, they have access to goods reserved to nobles in other countries.
After an hour they finally reach the inner wall. Four squires, each accompanied by three squads, guard its gates. With them is an old woman wearing white robes adorned with sigils. She should be a member of the Silent Order.
One of the squires walks up to them. His subordinates stand in line. Spears standing, they watch far in the distance, surveilling the boulevard. The squire addresses Cedric, "I need to see the kid's papers."
Gabriel pulls out his identification papers, handing them to the squire.
After a thorough reading the squire says, "Word has it you've just completed a four-year apprenticeship with an adventurer. And now you've returned, right on schedule to join the guard at the earliest age. How was it?"
"In the beginning, it was awful, constantly on the move in terrible weather. But, as I adjusted, it turned exciting to explore new places. We traversed the southern regions, stopping in many cities. Along the way, we fought monsters, earning our keep and aiding people in need," Gabriel answers from the outline Katherine gave him.
"You fought monsters?" the squire jests. Handing back the paper he asks, "What's the biggest one you killed?"
Gabriel refrains to answer a Scourgejaw, and instead says, "A gnoll."
One of the soldiers in the back poufs.
"If that's true you're going to murder the other kids at the selection," the squire says. He motions upward and the gates slowly open.
Horton says, "Well, I leave you here, Sir, Alden. Have a good day."
Once they pass the gates the decor changes drastically. The overcrowded streets give way to broad places and boulevards. Mansions are built sporadically, separated from each other by large private gardens. Guards, sporting silver engraving of various beasts and monsters, stand silent sentinels.
Shops are as rare as they are titanic. Entire buildings spanning several floors, dedicated to only a handful of customers.
Along their path Gabriel sees multiple fortified positions, towers, and garrisons. All equipped with heavy weaponry aimed both at the sky and the streets.
A rumble grows louder as an entire group of soldier crosses their path. No less than fifty guards run through the street in synchronized motion. Their gear takes a toll on many of them, nearly falling being with every step.
A voice stops them as they climb a set of stairs, "Sir Ashencrown, a blessed coincidence to meet you here."
Gabriel hears Cedric sighs. He resumes his ascension, rising to the same level as his interlocutor. The man, a balding, bearded, fifty years old, smiles devilishly. He wears a golden suit, sewn with silver threads. Gemmed rings garnish his hands, one holding a cane.
Behind him stands a tall, muscular, man clad in a thick steel armor. His long blond hair hides a myriad of tattoos resembling small leaves. Each of them sprouts two other leaves, stopping at the edge of his hairline. He has a barely visible black skull tattooed on his neck, at the edge of his chainmail. He's a Nord.
"I doubt this encounter to be due to luck," Cedric retorts.
"You give me intentions I did not have. Though now that you are here, I do have I issue you could help with," the man says.
"I can hear you. But as usual I can only work in the limits of the law," Cedric answers.
Unphased, the man says, "And I wouldn't suggest such things. See, earlier today you caused an already unfortunate merchant to close his shop for days. He's under a lot of pressure, and this could force him to shut down his business. It would mean a lot for him if you could retract your accusations."
"Pelfrak exploited his employees, we will not tolerate such behavior. I guess you proposed to help him, would he join the guild." Cedric takes one more step, rising above the man.
The man sighs. His tone becomes sweeter as he says, "You see the world in black and white. It would help you to consider the larger picture, and your relations with us."
Cedric voice becomes more authoritative. "I understand you had a long-standing friendship with my predecessor. But such relations would be unlawful, deemed a conflict of interests."
"Then we will take our leave. Come, other matters await us," the man says. His guard follows him without a word, his gaze ignoring Cedric and Gabriel.
Gabriel joins Cedric up the stairs and says, "The man behind him is dangerous."
Cedric whispers, "The merchant guild employs quite a lot of … talents. What's the meaning of the tattoos on his head?"
"Every leaf is for a man he killed in combat. And the skull on his neck means he assassinated someone. He seemed quite confident for someone without leverage," Gabriel whispers back.
Cedric explains, "Usually those who oppose the guilds find themselves in trouble. Secrets, tailored from nothing revealed to the public. Family members disappearing for a few days, until they change their ways."
"Aren't you concerned it will be a problem for us?" Gabriel asks.
"I hope they try, so I can get proof of coercion, threats, or defamation. The merchant guild is an issue for Stormwatch, a monopole that grew too greedy. If they try anything they will fail, and our men inside will give us the proofs we need," Cedric answers.
Cedric's clear worry over the economic health of Stormwatch puzzles Gabriel. Internal decay would make the city a more vulnerable target. Or does he want to keep it under control, to break it apart at the last moment.
They walk up to a large street edged by imposing houses. Their structure is foreign to the mansions they saw earlier. Broad stone walls, reinforced with metal columns and arches. Some have ancient metallic gates, other more recent wooden ones. Gabriel knows the Stormwatch is build upon the remnants of an antic city. Those buildings seem original, built centuries ago.
Cedric goes to one of those doors. Two guards, whose attire differs from the usual soldiers, open the gate at his sight. Both say, "Welcome home young master."
They step into a magnificent courtyard. Gardeners tend to exotic flora, nurturing unique plants and trees. Servants polish the passageways and staircases. Aromas of meat drift from a nearby window, mingling with soft muted verses. Soldiers, akin to those they've passed before, stand vigils in the corners.
The crowd acknowledge Gabriel presence without stopping their work. As they walk along the edge toward a staircase Gabriel gaze lingers on the workers. Their postures, builds, hands, and sometime scars belie their attires. As a woman stands up Gabriel sees the outlines of a dagger strapped to her leg.
"You employ a lot of talents," Gabriel whispers to Cedric.
Cedric smirks and hides it with his hand. He whispers back, "Everyone living and working in this estate is acquired to our cause. They know you're not our son, but nothing beyond that."
Running steps come from the kitchen towards them. A woman with long black hair and an apron appears in the staircase. She's younger than Cedric, in her early thirties. Rushing down the stairs she embraces Cedric and kisses him, embarrassing Gabriel. She then turns to Gabriel, crouching down to his level. "Hi, welcome to your new home. How was your journey? Was Finlay nice? Are you hungry?" she asks, with an enthusiasm Gabriel cannot match.
"Yeah, I am hungry, I guess," Gabriel answers.
She grabs his hand and drags him in the stairs. Waving at the workers, she yells, "Food is ready!" She guides him through the building to a room with a long wooden table. She sits Gabriel along its efge and disappears in the adjacent room. Cedric joins him shortly, followed by the personnel, exception of the guards.
She come back, steaming dishes in hands. With a few goings and coming she fills the table. Pottage, roast beef, meat pies, pheasant, scrambled eggs, sautéed greens, and wine emanate a concert of flavors. No one takes the head of the table. She sits, signaling everyone to start eating.
Cedric pours her a glass of wine and does the same for himself.
"Thanks for the meal, Elara," Gabriel says.
She muses, "You already know my name? That’s great. But I'm pretty sure you don't know theirs. So that's Alys, Ivor, Thalia, Helena, Reynard, Tristan, Anselm, Merek, Jasper, and Silas." She points with each name at a cadence Gabriel cannot follow.
The man to his side poufs. "You will have time to learn them," he says.
As they eat a guard walk up to Cedric. He hands him a letter he opens in front of everyone. "I have to attend a preliminary hearing for a case of labor law violations. Finish without me, I won't be home before tonight," he says. He stands up finishing his glass. As he leaves the room, he says, "Alden, a tutor will come this afternoon. He will make sure you fight like you were trained in Vale."
Gabriel eats to his heart content, tasting everything but the wine. Elara shows him his room, a spacious place with a balcony giving on the street. He rests for a while until a servant comes to his door.
The young woman enters the room holding various weapons under her arm. She informs, "Your instructor is waiting for you in the yard."
"Great, finally some exercise," Gabriel says following her downstairs.
In the yard a towering black man stands immovable. He's wearing a thick breastplate fused with a brown mantle and chainmail. A great sword rests in his hands, planted on the stone ground. Gabriel walks up to him. Speaking a foreign language Gabriel says, "Good afternoon."
The man looks at Gabriel. "Nearly right, that's the greeting of the Gilded Sands. I hail from the Ardent Expanse," he clarifies in Nilfarian, his voice a deep, sonorous baritone that echoes each syllable.
"I can't say much more in that language anyway." Gabriel jests, his hand scratching the back of his head.
"I am Rajan. I will be teaching you Vale's sword and spear styles," he says.
Embarrassed Gabriel asks, "No offense meant, but are you truly the best to teach... Vale's combat arts?"
"I have lived most of my life in Vale. I fought alongside countless of its soldiers. And I killed even more of them in combat," Rajan answers. "Now answer my questions. What weapons were you trained in?"
Gabriel enumerates, "Shields, both short and long swords, axes, spears, and bows."
Rajan asks, "And which do you master?"
"None," Gabriel answers.
"A humble answer from such a young individual," Rajan says. "Choose your arms to spar with me," he instructs.
Rajan arms are thicker than Gabriel's torso. His weight echoes with each step. Gabriel knows that a couldn't shield even a single blow from him. He turns to the attendant holding various arms and requests, "A spear, please."
The servant passes him a spear, its design akin to those wielded by the city's guards.
"A wise choice," Rajan comments. He rests his great sword on a bench. "A spear, if you would," he requests, motioning the servant to thrown him the weapon.
Gabriel takes his stance, holding the spear underarm, his dominant hand placed at the rear. He places his feet to ease quick advances and retreats.
Rajan one-hands the spear, holding his left arm as if carrying a shield. He comments, "You were trained to fight from behind a shield wall. Vale soldiers hold their shield themselves." He turns his torso, thrusting the speed forward with terrifying speed. Gabriel can barely follow the blur of his blade and avoids narrowly. Rajan's blade behind his head Gabriel steps forward, his spear aimed at the man's leg. Rajan swipes his empty hand in the air, catching Gabriel's shaft. He says, "You are already fast, and strong despite your size. We should begin teaching you the stances and positions."
Gabriel's heart is still racing. This man, despite his massive size and broad build, is faster than Owen. He asks, "Could we have a real match someday?"
Rajan turns to Gabriel, a flicker surprise in his gaze. "My students always feared me after our first blows. Yet you ask for more, do you not fear death?" he asks.
"Do not misunderstand, I only want to grow stronger. And till this day you are the second strongest person I ever met," Gabriel answers.
Rajan takes a pause. Letting go of Gabriel's spear he says, "You live in a small world if I am the second strongest individual you encountered. … I will fulfill your request the day you become an armiger. But know that I won't hold back, for I too want to grow stronger."
Gabriel mimics Rajan earlier stance. He says, "It's a promise then."
Rajan places himself next to Gabriel, taking his own stance and correcting Gabriel's. For hours their repeat the same movements and transitions. As the sun sets, they begin clashing their weapons as Rajan explains how Vale teaches his soldier to free their blades. When night falls Rajan exits the estate, leaving an exhausted Gabriel on the yard's bench.
Elara sits next to him, silver cups in hands. "Here you go Alden, that's an orange juice."
"What's an orange, isn't it a color?" Gabriel asks.
She puffs and lets out a muted laugh. "That a sweet and bitter fruit that gave its name to the color. Its round and grows on trees."
Gabriel drinks from the cup. The first sips beckon him to finish his drink. "That good," he comments.
"How are you doing, far from your family?" she asks.
Gabriel gazes to the night sky. "Better than I guessed I would. A lot has happened on the way here, and I barely thought about them until now," he answers.
"What happened during your journey?" she asks.
Gabriel recounts his encounter with the scourgejaws and the deranged mage until late in the night. Cedric finally comes home, visibly tired. Elara goes with her husband leaving Gabriel alone to return to his room. He eases in his comfortable bed, quickly falling asleep as his body is spent.