Pusta Silume (Imperial) – Halt at this very moment
Natye Varna (Imperial) – You are safe
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Laius Cinna
A day in Goras
Part I
-The Duke of Aegium-
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Laius Cinna always believed a man should just be gratified with whatever the realm gave him.
Unless it’s a bucket full of turds or eels.
Now if it isn’t and you got a good thing going then there’s no point to go and dig for more. Laius was having a great time growing up in Aegium. His father was a friend of the previous Duke and he have gotten to know Doris pretty well. Laius had a thing for numbers and wasn’t easily bamboozled by fool’s gold.
Now Doris wasn’t as big of a fool in his later years or as big an asshole. Not like he’d been when younger. The Duke just couldn’t see the future and could stick to some ideas that were clearly doomed to fail from the start. Sure excuses could be made and some were noteworthy, what with Deimos getting killed and all, or Alistair croaking because he was too proud to bend the knee.
Maggie reaching from the grave and snatching her son away out of pure spite.
It seemed that way to Laius.
The Duke was under duress since he loved that boy more than his late mother which was understandable since even Laius enjoyed Deimos’ company. The late knight was fun and prideful, a great guy to be around. Doris wanted him married to the Scaldingport girl but Alistair had other ideas. Then Deimos got killed leading from the front which made Aegium proud but was a punch in the gut for his father. Alistair soon followed, since despite what the late king believed he wasn’t that invulnerable. It left Lucius stranded in the North or dead and the kingdom's throne vacant when someone was needed on it.
Jeremy had gotten Deimos’ future bride and alliance. It was a good alternative since Miranda had been like a mother to him. Jeremy would have gotten Lucius’ future too as the pressured Doris thought it ‘a fifty-fifty chance it could work.’ No one sane takes that bet. Of course Lucius didn’t die in the North, Miranda forgot to wash her innards or just keep her darn legs close for a while and Jeremy who got shoved at the forefront just couldn’t get anyone else in line. The Legion did its own thing and Ursus with Brakis got busy trying to settle the old scores of the south coast.
Laius had warned Doris of all that. ‘Keep that stupid cunt on the throne. Get the kid away somewhere or pretend it’s yours. No one gives a shit about you my lord. You’re a duke but also a widower from Aegium. It happens all the time.’ They just couldn’t fight against Lucius. Alistair’s firstborn was a known knight. Someone whom tales and songs were written about. The old king had made sure of that, promoting his heir with every chance he got. Defending him when things didn’t go as planned. He lost to Ralph in the Princess Tourney but hey, he was injured and it was really a forfeit! It counted for everyone else though. More people had died that winter than they had in the whole war to bring Sovya to heel but hey, the young heir’s plan had ended the war! Lucius had killed his pregnant wife? Sure, but the lass was a Northern whore so he was justified. Right?
On and on it went. People always flocked to see Lucius compete, visiting or even just walking by instinctively and even in defeat excuses were made. Laius thought Ralph was perhaps a little better a knight that never dodged an opponent but no one cared. Nor it was that important as Ralph seemingly lacked in everything else. Charisma, intelligence, education, even character. A man builds a legend and it has truths weaved inside along the lies but none of it matters if he can back it up. Lucius had the better package from the start, nobody was going to convince people otherwise and rightfully so. Learning of his exploits from afar had only strengthened Lucius’ case even if none of it was true. Laius had bet on Lucius winning it all in the end and he did.
He was supposed to anyway.
It was a wager any sane person would make.
The realm had given the Duke a bucket of shit to play with. It had also put Laius in a precarious position. Thankfully Doris still had enough of a brain still functioning to understand that someone was going to get blamed for the whole debacle. It wasn’t going to be Alistair since Lucius would never turn on his late father or sully his legacy and it wasn’t going to be his younger brother since Lucius had always forgiven that little shit and well… Jeremy was dead. That was a punch in the gut also. Laius Cinna could be content with life’s offerings if the items on display were of passable quality.
Waiting around for the eventual downfall wasn’t an option. You have to move on. Doris didn’t want that. At first he tried securing Janneke and the kids, take over as their guardian which was commendable and useful, but that little cunt had different ideas.
Or Lord Ruud was just faster than them.
Laius had suggested that they should perhaps try to avoid explaining the unexplainable or wait for Brakis to save the day. That fat piece of excrement isn’t to be trusted. Laius wasn’t even sure that chunk of lard even believed in the Five. He is probably as much of a believer as that weasel Baron Nattas. Talk about a walking latrine of a human. The fact that Nattas had gotten a title out of all this mess was an insult to the gods but also a strong indicator of what was to come.
So Doris had been convinced and Laius had gotten them out giving the Duke a set of his old clothes. Now Laius being practical wanted them to head to Scaldingport, find a safe space around Janneke and the kids which would have been a good deal for Laius Cinna. He could work with the Old Crow. Find the middle ground. The Duke though had gotten out of his slumber whilst onboard the sloop Cecile and decided Lord Ruud wasn’t to be trusted.
It was true.
Doris wasn’t as safe in Scaldingport as Laius. So the hapless Duke decided to be bold and innovative, turning into his teenage self again. ‘If we’re doing this Laius, then we must carve out a new chapter. What’s left for us in Jelin?’ Plenty of things, as far as Laius was concerned being as he was younger than the Duke and still wishing for a good life without dangers. ‘We’ll do as our ancestors did and march forth into the unknown. Gods above! We shall grab life by the gonads and shape our future anew!’
Laius had thought at first the Duke wanted to risk them living near Lord Anker and his stifling priest-loving Midlanor. Laius could stomach that perhaps. Even heading north overlooking the weather but then he remembered Lucius had already blocked the North for them. In addition to that and given Zofia’s or her brutes’ propensity to chop heads off, a trip there was summarily dismissed. That left the Khanate and Laius could begrudgingly take a bite at tasting something more exotic in flavor forgetting the risks involved but Doris considered himself a patriot. So the Khanate was dismissed as well and the Cecile turned to head for Eikenport. They disembarked there and then jumped on a pirate-looking brigandine named ‘Fair Anne’ to bring them to Sinya Goras.
‘Sure there are flesh-eating Zilan there, but common Folk also frequent the premises along Cofols and humans,’ the Duke explained his reasoning to the disbelieving Laius Cinna. Putting the matter of Cofols also being humans aside and that neither of them had any contact with any of the Folk, be it dwarves, the Gish or other species, Laius couldn’t exactly see how stepping foot in Wetull was less risky than facing Lucius.
He was skeptical but the Duke had assured him that everything was going to be resolved and their boldness rewarded. ‘We are the good guys in this Laius. We’ve done nothing wrong. We’ll ask this foreign ruler for asylum and he’ll give it for he wants legitimacy and the company of real nobles. You must see beyond your bigotry here my old friend. Then you’ll realize all creatures are alike.’
Laius was unsure whether this Hardir wanted legitimacy or cared but either way Laius was way less bigoted than the Duke. In fact Laius was open minded to a degree. He also wasn’t delusional and his instincts were telling him they were taking a huge risk. Laius hated that. This was a wager no sane man would make and the Duke was going to do it again.
image [https://i.postimg.cc/nVJJKwpn/taras2.png]
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Wetull smelled differently.
The northern winds (coming from the Great Desert) blocked by the Pale Mountains and the thick mist after Kraken’s Tooth created a sparkling moisture on the deck as they approached the Talons. The land hidden in this mist silent as they entered Wyvern’s Mouth leaving behind to their east the distant light of Sentinel’s Tower. The port of Sinya Goras easy to miss as it was located next to the mouth of Narrow Gulf. A busy port. The larger merchant ships moored at its entrance, the smaller tied at the docks and a colorful crowd working them.
“Everyone be moving now gents,” Captain Nell urged them chewing on a mouthful of tobacco with enthusiasm, looking relieved they’ve made it there in one piece. ‘Not a sure thing,’ he’d told them in Eikenport and the Duke had laughed it off. “We need to empty Fair Anne so we can fill her right up again ayup!”
“Give me the smaller bag Laius,” Doris said and Laius obeyed shouldering the larger one. They navigated the wooden ramp down and touched land with the rest of the passengers. Mostly Cofols but many Lorians and even Issirs like Captain Nell.
The Captain saluting them from the quarterdeck. “Luthos guide yer future endeavors mates. Until next time,” Nell said and spat a mouthful of tar to add a blackened grin to his parting words. But despite his efforts there was a finality to his tone. The pirate captain wasn’t expecting to see them again.
“My lord,” Laius said and Doris turned to glare at him. The Duke stood thinner inside Laius’ old outfit, his greying blond hair a bit longer now and the Alden face that of his younger self.
“Greetings,” a Cofol of considerable girth said afore the Duke could speak and barred their way. Painted eyes and lips on a sweaty powdered face. “We’ll take yer heavy bags friends! Donko, Pamal get busy lads.”
“That’s quite alright,” Doris replied turning around. “They are not heavy.”
“Name’s Rumak,” the Cofol explained. “I work for the Tall Ostrich. Cheap room with free rum! It rhymes ha-hah.”
“Well, gratitude mister Rumak, but we’re not staying,” Doris started. “We’re heading to the palace.”
“What palace is that?” Rumak asked and signed for his two beefy servants to get another passenger’s bags.
“The Kings of course,” Doris explained and Rumak whistled then used a dirty cloth to gather some of the sweat from his forehead. He wiped some of the powder away along with it.
“Morn Taras is far away mister…”
“Doris.”
“Like the spear? I suggest you sleep on it today and think it through. Sinya Goras is a tricky place, better experienced inside a cozy room with a cup of rum in hand. Just stay away from the Spectacular Jackal.”
“It’s spelled differently and means gift,” Doris elucidated.
An ‘I’ instead of a ‘y’.
“Mmm.” A thoughtful Rumak murmured shaking his turbaned head.
“What was that last place you’ve mentioned?” Laius intervened after clearing his throat.
“A rival tavern. Don’t be impressed by the name.”
They weren’t really.
“Anyways, we better be moving,” Doris said a little sternly.
“If you hurry you’ll find a carriage leaving in an hour,” Rumak advised them. “What is your business?”
“We’re just looking for opportunities,” Doris explained vaguely. “Where is that carriage? Can we buy horses instead?”
“Wow. You got coin signor Doris? Better not be so open about it in these docks. Head beyond the market, west from here. Horses, camels… you’ll also find there. If you can handle a saddle that is. Aye.”
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“Do you see it now Laius? We can navigate these lands,” Doris said in a good mood as they strolled amidst the colorful crowd towards the stables of the travel stop. They had stopped at a post office run by a Cofol to message the Governor of Taras. A vague request for an audience with the king. Laius had spotted a couple of tall Zilan from afar but they both tried to keep a low profile and not offend anyone. The majority of those working near the port were humans though, which was a little weird since Sinya Goras didn’t have the feel of a human city. The road leading out of the docks was packed with a busy crowd and animal-drawn wagons carrying supplies, produce and other merchandise in and out. It was a very big street. Over ten meters in width and it may have been twice that.
“Doris,” Laius said when they paused to catch their breath from all the walking. “We need to ask for directions.”
The Duke proceeded to inhale deeply with a glance at the two-story stable and the several carriages parked outside of it.
“My friend you need to snap out of this sorry mood,” Doris advised. “I’m the one that lost the most here and yet you don’t stand witness to my groveling right?”
“Do you know where Morn Taras is?” Laius asked patiently and they started walking towards the stables again.
“It’s just a place like any other. There are hardly any Zilan around and frankly, I’m not that impressed. Eikenport was much bigger and with fancier buildings,” Doris said pursing his mouth. “We’ll ask the driver to take us there and he will.”
“Yes my lord,” Laius replied.
“Had we been back in Jelin I would have considered investing here,” Doris continued. “Open a trade route and buy stuff on the cheap to make quite the profit right?”
“I need to crunch the numbers,” Laius murmured.
“Ah, just guise at them miserable folk,” Doris replied and stopped to puff out. “Accursed humidity. No wonder they barely have any clothes on. See that you get a driver for us and haggle for the prize Laius. They like that.”
“That’ll be the Khanate my lord,” Laius countered and placed his larger bag down near the entrance to the stables.
“Lots of Cofols here.” Doris commented indifferently and he did the same.
Laius rounded up a closed carriage, the two horses having their snouts inside hemp bags to feed before the trip. But there was no one there. The carriage next to it better preserved and painted a light-blue with a carved sign of the Capricorn on its small carriage door.
“Maybe ask inside sire?” Laius asked the unseen Duke and Doris grunted a little annoyed. Laius walked back around the first carriage and saw the displeased Duke’s back walking inside the dark stable’s interior.
“Ah,” the Duke said sounding impressed whilst Laius went to stand over their bags to guard them from any crooks that surely were lurking about. “There’s a weird kitty. You’re ugly as a drowned dog huh? You little bugger you. Hmm.”
The sound of a soft whiny snarl coming from inside the stable.
Followed by a richer, more menacing snarl that reverberated the walls of the stable.
Laius perked up worried and the next moment the Duke sprinted out of the entrance energetically, gawking eyes and a grimace of terror on his face.
“Get the blades out darn it!” Doris yelled and Laius’ face contorted in shock as he hadn’t seen the Duke run in decades. The reason for the sudden exertion appearing right behind the galloping noble. A massive black cat with enlarged sharp fangs sprouting down from its upper jaw, one on each side. The size of the beast that of a Blacktiger almost. A tad smaller sure but nowhere near small enough. The large black predator reached the panicked hard-sprinting Duke and leaped adroitly sideways to snatch his right flaying forearm, sinking those long monstrous incisors easily right through the flesh. Its hind legs tripped next the yelping desperately Doris and with a vicious yank at the now trapped arm, he brought the Duke down a couple of meters from the stable’s entrance.
Laius rushed to help reaching for his dagger but paused unsure, the large lion eyeing him warningly just before it started dragging the groaning desperately and bleeding Doris back inside the stables.
Laius was too shocked to even move. He just stared at the large beast dragging the thrashing Duke by the arm with ease and moving faster by the second.
“Pusta Silume Orym,” a female voice ordered in an alien singing voice and walked past the frozen Laius. The lion paused and let go of the yelping Doris’ bleeding arm to look at her. “Natye Varna.” The lanky female Zilan added soothingly and the black lion licked its gore-covered whiskers with a long pink tongue breathing heavy. With another low-guttural snarl it turned around and sauntered inside the stable again waggling its long tail right and left.
“Tyeus bloody spear!” Doris cursed raspingly clasping at his ravaged arm to stop the bleeding. “What in the name of all that’s holy?”
The blue-haired Zilan glanced at the still shocked and standing frozen Laius with a pair of glowing green eyes peppered with gold spots. “A Nimra lion. She just gave birth,” she explained in passable Common and approached the groaning Duke to kneel next to him. “I’m Mylael O’ Soletha. A priestess and a healer,” the female explained soothingly and the grimacing from the mind-numbing pain Doris nodded in understanding.
Mylael placed a satchel she carried down and then ripped an even piece of cloth from the lower part of her tunic using first her teeth and then her fingers. The tear looping twice around shortening the garb and Doris’ eyes lowering at the long tanned legs that came to view so near him.
“Relax now,” Mylael said working fast to examine the wound and Laius stumbled there on numb legs with a glance at the nearby dark entrance of the stable, now stained with splotches of the Duke’s blood. “There’s no danger. Orym got scared for her litter. I’ve warned the stable hands to stay away for a while and I would come to pick her up. You didn’t hear it?”
“We are not… working at the stables,” Laius croaked, pausing to clear his throat and the Zilan healer nodded. There was nothing out of proportion on her face or body other than it being a bit long everywhere. Longer legs, longer arms and fingers. Longer ears obviously. Large eyes and mouth. Mylael’s skin darkening under Laius’ intense scrutiny.
“You’re visitors?” She asked in her strange accent. Something wild in it. Primordial. Laius watched her quickly licking the blood from her fingers and then reaching for a small vial she had placed on the cobblestone. Mylael poured some on the custom bandage she had fashioned in seconds and the rest she dripped directly onto the ghastly and torn flesh. Doris’ arm looked damaged beyond repair.
“We’re… aye. From Regia.” Laius murmured watching her hands working fast. She pressed the gory flesh to close the wounds, draining the pooling blood and then she wrapped the bandage around the grimacing Doris’ forearm. For some reason the bleeding had faded considerably. “Looking for opportunities.”
“Luthos warned you to be careful. Respect another’s domain and enter it with caution,” Mylael said finishing up bandaging the wound and offering a sip of the liquid to the mesmerized Doris. “Open up,” she ordered and the Duke dutifully opened his mouth for her to drip some of the reddish concoction on his tongue. “You might feel dizzy for a moment. Don’t fight it. You are brave.”
“Gratitude sweet lass,” Doris croaked with a fool’s smile and she touched his sweaty cheek briefly with a hand.
“You weren’t scared of Orym,” she noticed.
“I was running for my sword,” Doris explained clenching his jaw.
“Then she did well stopping you,” Mylael decided and got up. She glanced at the sober Laius for a moment. The Zilan taller than both of them and her long blue hair looped around her thin waist in a loose braid. “You seek passage.”
“We do. To Morn Taras,” Laius grunted feeling nervous around her.
“You want to see the Wyvern,” Mylael said and Laius gulped down. “Be more cautious men of Regia, for the Moon’s Sisters are more forgiving than the rest of their kinfolk.”
“Is that Nesande?” Doris asked after slowly getting up, left hand clasping at the bandaged right. How he’d managed to recover from the nasty injury so soon was mind-blowing to Laius. A warning they had no idea where they were heading. “I’ve read about the Old Gods in my youth.”
“Nesande touches everything but she favors the Night’s Moon descendants above all. Her family in the flesh,” Mylael replied with a smile and Laius could spot some pretty large teeth in there amidst the normal ones. The lion could have used a couple of them earlier not that the beast was lacking in that department. “Someday she’ll walk again with us.”
“A goddess,” Doris said impressed, seeming quite taken by the female considering he’d almost got killed by a motherly lioness not too long ago.
“Taras is to the west,” Mylael informed them. “Almost two days of travel with stops. You should make no breaks though and reach there faster.”
“Why?” Laius asked stiffly.
“It’s much safer,” she replied. “I’ll take her out of the back entrance,” Mylael explained and walked inside the stable slowly.
“Allgods Laius,” Doris grunted the moment she was away and turned to glare at him. The Duke was still clasping at his bandaged arm. “Could you be a little more accommodating?”
“She left her darn lion inside the stable sire,” Laius retorted. “How’s the arm?”
“It hurts like hells but it’s better than a moment ago.” Doris grunted. “What’s the matter with you? She helped us here for free and by the gods, have you ever gazed at such a rare beauty afore?”
“My lord she looked like a comely fiend. The latter kept me on my toes. Not to mention she smelled weird and other than showing some skin, I found her rather creepy.”
“Laius… you’ve no idea about women. I’m rather disappointed with you my friend.” Doris admonished him. “She was exotic Laius. In everything. And what skill! I can still feel her touch… ah, goodness me it’s rather wondrous really.” The ecstatic Duke sucked air in through the nostrils audibly to calm himself down. “That was a lot of leg she showed us there right?”
“I think she did it on purpose sire,” a miffed Laius grunted and stooped to grab his heavy bag again.
“That’s what I’m saying. We’ve made quite the impression on her gullible primitive brain.” The thoughtful Duke replied pursing his mouth. “By the Gods though. What striking loveliness! Who would’ve thought of that?”
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Three hours later
3rd of Nonus 194 NC
The Road to Taras*
> *(One of Goras’ loosely connected six towns/districts at the shores of Taras Lake. Here follow the ‘cities’ stated in order of population. Taras or Central District, Sinya Goras or North Port, Morn Taras or ‘Palace’, Hardir’s Port, High District or Favored Heights, Priests Estates and Mussel. Several smaller neighborhoods or estates sprouted by the main roads not belonging to any of the above.)
Laius’ horse followed that of the Duke and when the latter slowed down, he found the opportunity to ride next to him. The gravel road well-maintained and larger than any boulevard in Regia. Some portions near Sinya Goras were paved with cobblestone but even the parts further west from the port were flattened, the terrain cleared and the jungle beaten back twenty meters on each side near Sinya Goras and about five where they were now. It was an impressive open road to travel on and as a Regia citizen Laius could appreciate a good road.
“What are these things on the posts?” He asked the grimacing Duke. The arm was better as they had checked on the injury already in order to change the bandage but still it hurt some. The three meter tall thick timber posts were set up on the sides of the road at twenty meter intervals but there was one every ten meters on each side in a crisscross pattern. Near the top a metal box could be seen, the side facing the road opened and a little angled downwards with a rock secured in it.
“I have no idea,” Doris replied eyeing a carriage moving past them filled with passengers that stared at the two Lorians through the open small windows.
“If I stand on the saddle,” Laius murmured very curious as it reminded him of the street oil-lamps Regia’s bigger cities had but he couldn’t spot a container for the oil. “I think I could reach one.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” the Duke grunted with a glare. “They’ll think we’re trying to steal their fucking rocks!”
“Isn’t it weird?”
“It’s a bloody post along a blasted road Laius,” Doris snapped. “Probably they want to secure torches up there and they haven’t figured it out yet! This a new road.”
“There’s at least three feet of gravel under the surface,” Laius retorted. “This road must cost a fortune to build sire.” He added and they both heard another carriage approaching on the busy route. Making a lot of noise as it slowed down near them. The two Lorians had instinctively led their horses at the right edge of the road to leave room for the carriage to pass them by although it wasn’t needed really.
Several heavily-packed mules followed after the carriage. At least six camels and two laden ostriches. The occupant of the cabin popped his Cofol head out to look at them as the carriage slowed down to stop near them. A pretty slanted-eyed slave girl peeking behind the richly-dressed Cofol merchant.
“Good colleagues I’m intrigued as to the nature of your wares. The lack of bags is tantalizing,” the Cofol said in fluent Common. “I’m Lon-Iv so you don’t have to be so stressed about it. I have access to the Guild’s books.”
“We’re just starting,” Doris replied with a glance at the arriving armed escort following the carriage and the many animals. “So we’re not in the Merchants Guild yet.”
“Aha. Well then, you sure picked a risky market to begin your noble enterprise,” Lon-Iv said.
“Any pointers on what’s more profitable?” Laius probed realizing who the man riding inside the carriage with the Capricorn’s sigil carved on its door was.
Lon-Iv blinked and then accepted a goblet of something from the scantily-dressed pretty slave. Laius couldn’t spot an article of clothing on her hard as he looked. The aloof Lon-Iv sipped from it for a moment and then glanced at the expecting Laius and Lord Doris waiting on their saddles. “You don’t really anticipate an answer mister…?”
“Laius Cinna,” Laius replied stiffly.
“Mister Cinna you’ve asked a very expensive question,” Lon-Iv continued pursing his painted orange lips. “Frankly I quite loathe to answer it even in the event you produced an outrageous sum of coin to entice me. Which while I find it unlikely you have it available on you, I still must assure you that it won’t,” he smiled thinly. “Whatever that amount might be. Knowledge’s prize is limitless in our line of work.”
“How far from Taras is the Palace?” Doris grunted very annoyed with the haughty merchant.
“You’re not getting anywhere near the Palace,” Lon-Iv replied sounding equally annoyed. “But if you reach Taras then you’ll see its mirage over the lake. Have a safe journey gentlemen and enjoy your stay in Goras,” he added and tapped the outside of the door with the knuckles for his driver to get moving. “I hope you have secured accommodation beforehand. This is a busy part of the year.”
They waited for the caravan to clear the road and followed after it at a light trot. They had to slow down soon to preserve their horses. An hour later they passed by the caravan again as it had made camp by the side of the road. They left it behind and continued traveling following the easy to navigate route, the jungle creeping ever closer around the middle of their journey.
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Many hours later they reached Taras having spent almost a day on the road. It was late in the night, hours before dawn. Laius wouldn’t have known they had approached the foreign city and perhaps continuing in the dark wouldn’t have even been possible but for the lights. The posts were street lights after all. The moment dark fell over Goras and the sun disappeared to the west, one after the other those strange stones came alive. Their milky light chasing some of the darkness away and leaving the road fully visible. The yellow-white gravel shining under their horses’ hooves and the dark night staring with sinister eyes at this magic route of light splitting it.
If the road was well-lit up and easy to navigate, Taras was bathed in light. Most of the city fully illuminated and shinning so bright in the night, a blind man could see it. Laius and Doris stood mesmerized on the saddles a kilometer from the first houses to gaze at the spectacle. The brilliant shine of the city spilling over the lake’s waters and making them sparkle a wondrous silver color. Huge shadows were cast on the distant raised walls of a plateau, another row of lights coiled on the steep granite slopes ever climbing and heading for the flat top.
Behind the riddled in shades and misty vapors of the massive lake, many kilometers away and seemingly standing over the clouds well above the top of the plateau another set of lights could be seen just barely. This eerie illumination came and went with the soft breeze that ever moved the misty clouds. Strange tall towers took shape behind the mist circling a massive citadel. It was clearer the closer one went to the lake. Laius and Doris angled towards the lake’s shores following the fully lit, busy wide roads and boulevards of Taras. The city awake despite the late time and bristling with Zilan. Humans were present as well but the numbers were heavily against them here. Dwarves amidst them going about their businesses. Music playing, the locals swimming in the calm waters and most of the venues still open. Every building’s façade fully lit.
The architecture having a touch of the rounded Cofol lines, the marble Lorian villas present but mostly riddled with walled stone estates at the periphery or blocks of trilateral absurdly tall and weirdly shaped stone buildings that connected at the very top with each other via narrow long bridges especially at the center. There was a mystical pattern in the way the city’s spokes (or roads) extended outwards from the lake’s shores (that side facing the plateau) and it resembled a spider’s web cut right the middle with the curved side pointed to the south.
Almost half of the city was still under construction or some type of rebuild.
There was no cobblestone or gravel road inside Taras proper. Every square meter of road or pavement was covered with finely cut and polished granite tiles. The intricately sculpted benches near the beach -for those enjoying a swim or a stroll- made out of white marble, the nicely paved paths created leading near the edge and the many taverns facing the waters packed with lively customers.
“Well,” a frowned Doris murmured after they followed the spacious road to the central square. It was built in such way so that it faced the busy beach on its north side and it offered an uninterrupted view of the distant plateau over the lake’s surface. “That’s a pretty nicely put together place Laius.”
“Seems that way sire,” Laius murmured and they stopped before a three story… four-story building with massive windows and balconies filled with people enjoying their evening, whilst watching the happenings on the square or gossiping in many tongues. There was a constant buzz all about them, the strong lights making every color appear brighter. It was overwhelming to the senses. “I bet the real-estate prizes around here are exorbitant.”
“Mmm,” Doris murmured thoughtfully and climbed down from the saddle following his example. “Some empty places though still,” he said and stared at the large building that looked like a hostel of sorts but without a tavern. It didn’t need one since there were plenty of taverns across the square. “Let’s see if we can find a room for the night. I’m a bit famished Laius.”
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There was a Zilan inside the spacious reception hall, reading a parchment in the semi-darkness with his legs stretched on the counter. Laius paused behind the Duke and eyed nervously the high ceiling above their heads.
“Can I bother—” Doris started with the Zilan stopping him with a gesture afore he could finish and without raising its glowing eyes from the parchment.
The raised arm had the hand’s long index finger pointing back towards the exit.
“Come back in the morning. The kitchen is closed. No food left to give.”
“What…? We are patrons’ mister!” The Duke’s affronted protest rang inside the empty room.
“Then your stupid mugs can’t bother me, since we are full as the sign clearly states,” the Zilan surmised even less friendly now. “Please vacate the premises.”
“Why, you unpleasant…” Doris grunted turning red in the face and Laius rushed to stop the furious Duke grabbing him by the shoulder. “Let go of me,” Doris warned through his teeth.
“Calm down sire. We can look elsewhere,” Laius urged slowly turning him around.
“Good luck with that, ho-ho-ho,” the Zilan hostel owner cackled from the counter, his eyes kept on the scroll he was reading. “Small-eared illiterate idiots.”
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Laius bodied the irate Duke outside the hostel, Doris clenching his jaw manically and thick veins popping on his neck. “You heard that circus freak?” He hissed. “I’ve never been insulted like this in my life!”
Laius sighed and checked the sign on the small board outside the hostel, the cryptic message written in an unknown language with white chalk and a thick line drawn under the script.
“Let us move a block deeper,” he decided and went to guide the horses down the main street heading south. They rounded the corner with Laius walking briskly ahead still murmuring under his breath and rubbing his itchy bandaged arm.
Fifty meters away from the large square the buildings turned into large walled villas on the west side of the street with smaller sized two-floor villas on the east but for the corners where another hostel-looking building appeared just as they reached the end of the second row of city blocks. This building having a short columned fence, a small garden with flowerbeds and a grand entrance with two nice nymph statues decorating each side. A large marble label over it with gold engraved letters.
“What about…?” Doris said turning around but paused mid-query as a lithe Zilan burst out of the fancy building, then quickly rushed across the small garden moving like a fit gazelle and reached the street. Silver anklets ringing on each stride, well-oiled legs revealed in all their lengthy glory as the loose robes she had on billowed playfully behind her. The female paused, her face painted meticulously, under two naughty blue pigtails and then crossed the street fast, each stride making the jewelry she had on jingling happy once again. She reached the other side of the street where two Cofol guards where standing outside the outer entrance of a much bigger villa.
“What do you have under there cutie-pie?” One of the guards teased while Doris and Laius observed fully engrossed from across the street.
“You fancy?” The Zilan teased back and twirled around on the tips of her toes raising the robes to showcase her dancer’s meagre outfit of sorts.
“Holly be Uher’s name,” the Duke grunted reverently –which was uncharacteristic of him- taken aback at the amount of naked flesh displayed.
“Not much of a boob Sarya,” the guard commented not impressed.
“You serious?” Sarya hissed and glared at them. “It’s quite enough!”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” the guard insisted with a peevish smile.
“I like the skirt’s color,” the other commented in an encouraging tone.
“It’s sheer through material Malik. No color on it,” Sarya snapped and pouted in frustration. “Ah, I wanted the coin darn it.”
“He’ll pay either way,” the second guard assured her.
“I could put mother in the outfit. It might take a moment to squeeze her inside though. Some things might pop out.”
“Always a good sight,” the second guard said with a stupid grin.
“Eh,” Sarya sighed and turned around. “The moment the meeting finish you give me a holler yes boys?”
“No problem Sarya,” the first guard assured her and she turned around to walk back across the street.
“What the hell is going on here?” Doris grunted his eyes peeled on the returning comely female. Because this Zilan is pretty, Laius thought. For sure.
“I think that’s a brothel sire,” Laius informed the grimacing Duke and the Zilan stopped in front of them with a naughty smile.
“A pleasure house,” she corrected Laius. “That happens to be open if you can afford it.”
Doris scowled. “We are… not interested—” Laius cutting him off afore he could finish, which the loyal chamberlain rarely did.
“How much?”
Sarya stared in his face and suddenly Laius could smell her perfume, mixed with sweat and her own scent. “Good information could get you everything tonight.” She purred mysteriously and even that strange accent now appeared enticing to him.
“Guards,” Doris said.
“What information?”
Sarya stooped near his face and those large eyes got even bigger. Green irises with yellow and silver spots glowing.
“Laius,” Doris grunted irate in a warning tone.
“What?” Laius protested snapping out of his reverie.
“Guards,” the Duke hissed and a rough voice barked from not that far away.
“You two rascals! Stand still and keep yer hands where I can see them!”
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Six of Taras’ city guards had come out of a side alley clad in their hoplite cuirasses and bronze helms. The sergeant a rather overweight Lorian marched near the two stunned men and the grinning Zilan female.
“Officer—” Doris started but they both got bodied by two guards each and dragged near the fence of the brothel.
“Search them good now Mitch,” the sergeant ordered rigidly and turning to a burly Cofol guard grunted. “You check them bags Retus. Thoroughly.”
“Aye sarge,” Retus agreed and walked to their horses.
Laius cursed at the rough manhandling of the soldier and Doris who shoved the guard back, got a smack at the side of his face with the blunt butt of a spear and went down. “My lord!” Laius protested and got rewarded with a punch to the gut to quiet down.
Got him a bit in the kidneys also, the guard obviously good at his job.
“What is this?” The sergeant roared and approached. “Are they resisting arrest?”
“What arrest?” Laius growled. “For what reason?”
“They are sir. Especially the old cunt,” Mitch spat and kicked the doubled over Doris taking a forward step to gather momentum. The boot hitting the Duke’s injured arm and getting a howl out of the rolling about seriously hurting noble.
“We did nothing wrong!” Laius protested and got elbowed at the back of the head. His forehead almost kissing the marble finish of the lavish fence.
“What’s yer name?” The sergeant barked and stooped to grab Doris by the collar and lift him upright.
“I’m Doris Alden!” The Duke spat and the sergeant guffawed thunderously, let go of the collar and gave the Duke a sharp backhand right on the hurt cheek that twirled the moaning Doris around, afore he turned to stare at Laius soberly.
“Laius Cinna,” Laius croaked as fast as he could.
“At least ye have a bit of shame,” the sergeant retorted and eyed the coming about cursing Duke. “What’s the purpose of your visit signor Alden?
“You fucking criminal! We are looking to make…”
“Stop right there,” the sergeant barked cutting him off and turned to the soldier searching their bags. “Anything?”
“Nothing sir!”
“You sure? Because they look super suspicious to me Retus!” The sergeant yapped and Mitch nodded backing the minor officer up.
“Ayup. They sure do sarge.”
“Well?” The sergeant of the city guard grunted with a nod.
“I can’t find it sergeant,” Retus replied sadly.
“Allgods old and new!” The sergeant cursed and tipped his head back to stare at the night sky frustrated. “That’s a spit-less pack of fucks alright.” He cast a side-glance at the watching Sarya. “You’re free tonight lass?”
“I’m booked for the coming day Svend,” she replied coquettishly.
“A bit of night left still,” Svend haggled with a leer and the fat jowls hopped on his face.
“I’m off to sleep,” Sarya insisted apologetically.
“Eh, blast it then…” Svend turned his big neck to glare at Laius and the groaning Doris. The Duke’s cheek was bleeding and was a tad swollen now. “You two need to get Folen’s signature on a paper to remain in the city, or that Merchants guild card. Without it you’ll get fined or tossed in the brig unless you have rented a room elsewhere. Have you?”
Laius licked his dry lips. “We were looking to find one. We just arrived.”
“Mmm.” Sergeant Svend murmured and looked at the returning Retus. “Fine them two gold Eagles each.”
“What?” Doris snapped. “That’s preposterous! For what?”
“You either rent a room or you pay the rent to the city. The Monarch’s law aye,” Svend explained. “For crying out loud even thieves do it. Just find somewhere to stay. Retus get the coin from them. We’re moving on. We’ll search the city in sectors. Starting from the west corner of the square and moving out.”
“Sergeant I’ll file a complaint with the king! I don’t believe you!” Doris growled rubbing his hurt arm. “And you assaulted a noble!”
“What was the name Mitch?” Svend barked.
“Ehm. Boris Alden sir.”
“Doris!”
“Thought it was that ayup. Listen up, I know you’re a thief,” Svend told the ogling, sweating and bleeding Duke. “Walking about and sneakily casing the better neighborhoods. Bags ‘with clothes’ on them horses which you drag after you to faster get away. I find you here when I return you get a free room in jail. I find you here when I return without what I’m looking for you get punched in the face so I can vent my frustration. You know why Signor Alden?”
Doris stood back and grimaced, a tick marring his swollen face. “You’re a thug?” He grunted.
“Huh. Alistair got my old man killed in seventy four,” Svend revealed with a grunt and narrowed his eyes. “And that cunt whose name yer using didn’t pay half-a-shit to me mother. Paps had volunteered but she didn’t have all the papers that lofty cunt wrote back. Aye. Wouldn’t know them even she had.”
The shaken Duke blinked but said nothing.
Quite wisely.
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Sarya gave them a place to stay for a couple of hours, but early the next morning a thin, heavily painted Zilan arrived, dressed in fancy robes and carrying a lute on his back. He listened to Sarya’s story, Laius couldn’t sleep from all the tension and eavesdropped on their conversation, then summoned them both.
Folen, the King’s Master of Silence apparently, informed them their audience with the king had gone through. They needed to get to Morn Taras as fast as they could. While the timing was strange, it lifted the Duke’s spirits after the terrible night they had. The morning found them riding north towards the covered in mist plateau. They went past a massive camp to their west, the barracks mostly empty but the gates guarded by armoured tall Zilan Hoplites with sinister black helms and long spears.
The black walls of the castle stood at over twenty meters tall, the corner towers looming a dozen meters taller than them and made out of the same black-grey granite. The citadel was located at the center, the size of the castle stupendous and sparsely covered with buildings. The outer shape of the walls reminding Laius of a star with a tower on each corner and the citadel built on the base of what appeared to be a half-pyramid. At the very top it was completely flat and the architect had proceeded to build a basic square bastion there as if he’d changed his mind mid-construction.
There was no fancy architecture employed in Tenebrous Castle –this was the meaning of the Zilan name- just tall thick walls made out of hard granite and no color but in the surrounding gardens. Everything was larger than it was needed. From the outer gates of the barbican to the central entrance after one climbed the forty steps of the base of the pyramid. Laius and Doris followed a silent tall Zilan knight that had escorted them from the gates. It took them twenty minutes to reach the Citadel. Ten to reach the entrance.
The Knight, a silver solemn mask covering its face told them in passable Common to proceed to the main hall. The inside doors opened and darkness replaced the light of day. At the far end of what appeared to be a very long hall a tiny sparkle of light could be seen. Either a window opened –for there were no windows- or a torch it seemed.
“Good grief,” Doris commented when the doors closed behind them and they were left standing alone inside the darkness of the massive hall with the preternaturally high-ceiling. Thick black columns could be seen at the distance and they started walking towards the tiny light. The lights grew as they walked. And walked. Minutes later the first column appeared and it was so thick, the torch on it could barely light up its circumference. Colorful scenes were carved on the hard granite of the column and the one across from it. Laius paused and tried to measure the width despite the Duke’s frustrated protests. He discovered it to be twenty meters from pillar to pillar, with another ten meters of space behind each column.
A long time after they had entered the main hall and after walking in semi-darkness for an eternity it seemed, the tiny light had turned into a sun almost. It sparkled on the last of the massive engraved columns, rings of gold on them making the light of several ‘magic torches’ expand and douse in golden hue the surroundings. This time the light reached as far back as the outer walls beyond the central columns. It showed detailed colorful paintings and gilded statues adorning the seemingly empty hall. Doors unseen for the visitors and Zilan knights standing guard, staring ominously behind their silver masks.
The massive altar where a tall black intricately carved metal throne stood somewhat lonely given all that wasted space and beyond it a large internal staircase hugging the west wall leading upstairs. The floor lost as the ceiling remained unseen standing too high for the light to reach.
On the throne of Wetull, an armoured demon sat in sinister silence and stared at the approaching –a little tired from the long distance they had traveled and slightly intimidated Lorians- behind a black metal mask. An ugly horned crown fastened on the conned black helm and the man was clad in a muscled hoplite cuirass that gleamed, but left his wiry arms visible. The skin on them tanned.
“Two men from Regia,” a croaky Zilan said and Laius blinked a little shocked seeing him appear behind the last column holding a pack of scrolls. He climbed the stairs to reach the platform the throne was on and then walked near the Monarch.
“Sire, I don’t think this a good idea,” Laius murmured in a low voice and Doris, face still a bit swollen from the previous night cast an angry glance his way.
“Just let me handle this Laius. We nobles know how to navigate these matters.”
“Laius Cinna,” the Zilan announced and whispered something in Imperial to the Monarch who nodded and stooped forward on the throne to better look at them. They were standing about ten meters away. “And Doris Alden.”
Laius gulped down nervously.
“Respected Monarch,” Doris said stepping forward and Laius heard a lot of footsteps all about them. One of the shades taking shape, solidifying and turning into a hooded tall figure not three meters to his left. “I must correct your herald. I’m also the Duke of Aegium.”
The Monarch nodded and asked something to the Zilan with the stack of papers. The latter shrugged his shoulders.
“You have the name of the King of Regia,” the Zilan said slowly as if he was addressing idiots. “Is it a lie?”
“No it is my true name,” Doris replied stiffly. “I’m his kin your grace.”
“Where is Aegium?” The Zilan asked a moment later. “We are not exactly certain which town you’re speaking of.”
Laius pursed his mouth, an eye peeled on the fiendish cloaked Zilan or whatever it was that watched them carefully, the other on the silent Monarch behind the black mask. Who does that? He wondered. What manner of freak rules here? This was a mistake. We are fucking doomed.
“Aegium is the jewel of the coast your grace,” Doris replied trying hard to keep his composure. Laius admired this on him. Whatever his faults, Doris was still an Alden so he would stubbornly strive to get the job done or live to fight another day.
“Which coast exactly?” The Zilan asked carefully.
“The Salt Coast.”
“You trade in salt?”
“We do.”
“Is it valuable?” The Monarch asked in excellent Common, rasping voice coming out a little muffled but clear.
“It is your grace. Very… profitable,” Doris replied perking up as he loved talking about profits.
“Better than oregano? I like it on some dishes.”
“Similar and it doesn’t spoil your grace,” Doris deadpanned confidently and the Monarch nodded seemingly pleased.
Doris glanced at the sweating profusely, extremely tensed Laius and whispered encouragingly out of the side of his mouth.
“All creatures are alike,” Doris Alden repeated what he’d told him at the start of this adventure and Laius grimaced desperately as he wasn’t at all sure about that. He also hadn’t received the same vibes from the Monarch’s court. “Profit bridges all noble minds and we are guided by the same desires.”
No sooner than the Duke finished his uplifting speech to Laius, a figure marched inside from a side door that opened and closed without sound. He was clad in a Zilan knight’s plate armour but he clearly was a human, as despite the silver mask covering his face Laius had come to slowly tell each species apart.
“Sir Kirk?” The Zilan queried addressing the newcomer. “Did you find it? Was the search successful?”
“Mmm,” Doris murmured and glanced at Laius as the Duke felt vindicated for what he’d told Laius earlier. There was a logical reason for the guards being so belligerent last night. This wasn’t madness after all.
Laius let out a deep sigh missing the knight’s muffled answer.
The Monarch’s angered response coming as a complete shock to him.
“You lost the fucking egg!” He roared hoarsely and jumped from the throne like a rattlesnake. They were looking… for an egg? Laius thought his senses flooded with despair.
“The what?” Doris asked the rattled and shaking Laius, who stared at the furious Monarch clenching his fists on the raised platform as if the biggest catastrophe imaginable had just befallen his gloomy hall.
“We shall continue the search milord. Mayhap scour the lakes,” the knight replied and bowed his head.
“Leave the god darn lake. I’ll have the Wyvern boil the waters and flush her out,” the King beyond the Pale Mountains hissed through the mask and stared at the shaking Laius. The angrily clenched mouth on the gleaming metal mask, relaxing into a half smirk. “Do you partake in wine Duke?” He asked in a friendly manner. “Come nearer, so I can see you both better.”
The Direwolf said to the mountain hunter’s daughters or so the tale went.
We’re fucked, a petrified Laius thought.
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