The carriage rattled forward, wheels grinding over the even stone, as Stick leaned back against the rough wood panelling. His sense of time had become a blur, the long hours on the wagon merging into one continuous stretch, but somehow, their trip through the tunnel felt shorter than he’d expected. The darkness of the passage had dulled everything—except for the rhythmic clop of the horses and the creak of the wheels. Up front, Becket stirred. Stick watched as the officer rose from his seat, making his way to the head of the carriage. A metallic clink resonated through the darkness and the heavy drape that blocked the end of the tunnel was lifted and the light exploded into the confined space. Stick winced, shielding his eyes against the sudden glare that blinded him. When his vision adjusted, he saw two guards standing at the tunnel’s mouth, both dressed in gleaming silver armour intricately lined with gold, their appearance resembling the knights he’d glimpsed in the forest months ago. They stepped forward, blocking the exit.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards demanded, his voice stern.
Becket didn’t flinch. “Officer Becket from the Blitz Estate.”
The guard narrowed his eyes, scanning Becket with an expression that shifted from suspicion to confusion.
He tilted his head slightly, then scoffed. “A Level 25 Officer? Where did you get that rank, Soldier? In the lottery?”
Before Becket could respond, a voice from behind them cut through the tension like a blade.
“He got it from me.”
Stick twisted in his seat to see the man with the grey doublet, his heavy cloak draped across his shoulders like a shadow. The man’s mere presence seemed to command the space around him. The guards’ reactions were immediate. Both men straightened up, their eyes widening in recognition.
“High Council member Herzog!” one of them stammered, clearly caught off guard.
They both dropped into hurried bows, their hands trembling slightly as they gestured the group forward. “Forgive us. Please, pass through.”
Without another word, the guards stepped aside, allowing the carriage to continue. The light grew brighter as they emerged from the tunnel, and soon the road stretched out before them, a narrow path that wound toward a larger, more travelled highway in the distance. As they approached the next road, Stick noticed a shift in the scenery. More carriages, wagons, and mounted knights in the same armour appeared. Whenever a person spotted their convoy, their head locked in their direction. The sight stirred an unease deep within him—though he wasn’t sure why.
“Finally,” Stick heard Becket mutter.
Ahead, a big city loomed against the sky like a giant crouching over the land. Its massive stone walls and imposing towers rose in the distance, stark and unyielding against the horizon. The sight of it sent a shiver down Stick’s spine. That’s the capital?
As they got closer, the city rose more and more like something out of a nightmare. The wooden palisades stretched high into the misty air, their tops crowned with sharp spikes that clawed at the sky. His fingers tightened on the edge of the cart, digging into the rough wood. It wasn’t just the height of the walls or the looming towers that made his stomach churn. There is something darker here, something sinister and cold.
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The road led them to a stone bridge where they were also waved through by the guards. The cart creaked and rattled as it crossed, passing above rows of ramshackle tents and shacks at the river below. The people down there were hard, their eyes darting with suspicion as they went about their business. It was clear they lived in the shadow of the city, just beyond the massive gates that dominated the entrance, as though they weren’t truly part of it. The gates themselves were monstrous, each door carved with intricate designs of beasts and warriors. The iron hinges groaned open to release a slow trickle of people to exit the city, finally done with their work day. He pulled his slave rags tighter as the cart rolled forward, his eyes darting to the shadowy figures that drifted past their carriages into the streets below the bridge like ghosts. They must be NPCs.
Inside, the buildings were colossal, towering over the narrow streets. Dark wood and stone loomed over market stalls, each structure adorned with sharp spires and jagged edges that cast long, foreboding shadows in the setting sun. It all seemed so improvised and yet structured at the same time. It was definitely a newly built settlement, the erected buildings consisted mostly of wood, but at the same time he noticed how the ground was even without a single hill in sight, the roads were paved with stone and crossed each other at a perfect ninety-degree angle and the rows of houses were neatly compartmentalised in blocks. Every few blocks they passed by a huge square where merchants and travellers hawked their wares, desperate to make a final sale for the day. They made a right turn at one of these squares and—What the fuck?
The largest building at the opposite end of town drew Stick’s gaze—a palace, or maybe a fortress, its broad steps disappearing into the mist above. It stood as the only building on a higher elevation with huge marble pillars signifying the entrance. The space between the red roof and the pillars bore a golden symbol of a bull’s head wearing a spiked helmet. To the sides of the main building, two wings of the palace or fortress or whatever it was spread and moulded into the palisades that enclosed the whole city. Their spires reached up like fingers grasping at something unseen, while a low fog clung to the ground, swirling between the stone and timber as though it had a mind of its own. The air here was thick, heavy with the weight of secrets that clung to the very stones. Stick couldn’t shake the feeling that the building itself was watching him, that something unseen lurked behind the walls and towers, boring deep into his soul. This is where the king lives?
He looked over to Shadis, who just like him was simultaneously amazed and frightened by Carnifex’s ability to construct enormous monuments like these. They were truly a powerful force to be reckoned with and Stick slowly but surely started to lose hope in ever trying to defeat them. Gods, Stick. What have you gotten yourself into?
The carriage in front came to a halt and Becket steered their wagon to align his driver’s seat with the carriage’s cabin. The Jester opened a window but it was Herzog who spoke.
“The briefing will take place at nine in the morning. I want them there by ten for the hearing. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Becket answered.
“Good. I’ll make the necessary preparations,” the High Council member said, although he was talking more to himself than to Becket. “Now, let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day and my bones are aching from the trip.”
Without any further instruction, the convoy split after two full days of travelling together. The carriage of the High Council went towards the main entrance, while their wagon made its way to the right wing of the palace-fortress which unsurprisingly had a second entrance that led to the dungeon where the prisoners were being held.
image [https://i.imgur.com/N695t66.jpeg]