A lot of curious looks were directed their way as they passed through the fields and farms around Estethford, though most of those that still worked the land did so closer to the town itself. Many of those furthest away had been abandoned by all but the most stubborn, being too far from the town should there be any trouble. A few of the farmhouses and outbuildings had been reduced to piles of ash and blackened stones, while the fields had run wild from neglect.

Nearing the town itself, Chance could see that the walls were newly erected. The lumber for it was fresh cut and still green, which did not speak well for its longevity, while freshly dug mounds of earth lay before it, from the pits that had been dug to drop the logs into. It all spoke of a hasty defence for a place that had not previously needed it, though whether for the dragon or the bandits could not be told. Chance suspected it was more for the latter, as the whole place looked a little too flammable to survive an assault from a dragon.

They arrived at the gates into the town towards the end of the afternoon as the shadows began to emerge upon the plains, the sun drifting towards the horizon. A couple of men met them there, wearing ill-fitting leather armour and looking uncomfortable in it. The hefty staves they carried, though, looked like they could do some serious damage if they were swung in anger.

“Halt,” the shorter of the two, a young, dark-haired man, barked at Chance as they approached the gates. He looked the group over, scowling as he saw the make-up of the group. “No kobolds or gnolls allowed.”

“They are with me,” Chance told the man.

“And you are?” the man challenged belligerently.

“I am the Guardian of Azval Stalvaq,” Chance replied, trying to restrain his anger at the man’s attitude. “I have business here, and money to spend, and was hoping for, expecting really, a more hospitable welcome.”

“Strangers rarely come here anymore,” the other guard explained, an older man with greying hair and beard. “We have learnt to be wary.”

“You say you are the Guardian, but how do we know you are a druid?” the first guard demanded. “We have others try to infiltrate the town with preposterous stories before.”

“He is a dwarf, Marl,” the older man said.

“Doesn’t mean that he can’t still be in league with the bandits.”

For a moment Chance felt like unleashing a storm, if not upon them, but close by to them, so annoyed had he become. He managed to rein in the urge at the last moment, for fear the display might cause an undue panic due to the suddenness and violence of it. Instead, he pointed at the two guards. Stavoq Qanor, he intoned, almost a snarl, glaring at the pair as he did. The ground around the men trembled and broke open and roots came snaking up out of it, to wrap themselves around the two men, binding them tight so that they could not move.

“Is that good enough for you?” he demanded of the two men who were trapped by the roots, “Or does it require a further display of my power?”

Marl swallowed hard, eyes wide. “No, no, that is enough. My apologies, Guardian.”

Chance waved his hand overly dramatically and the roots retracted back into the ground, freeing the men. “Now, I need to speak to your mayor, or whoever is in charge.”

“The mayor will be in the town square, most likely, Guardian,” the older man replied. “She has many problems to deal with.”

“Good,” Chance said and started to lead the horse and cart forward towards the gate again. “Thank you.”

Snarl grinned at the two men as he walked by. “Nice town that you have here,” he said jovially.

“Snarl,” Chance said quietly once they were beyond the two, nearing the gates.

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“Yeah?”

“Try not to upset them too much, okay?”

“You ruin all of our fun,” grinned the gnoll.

I noticed that they didn’t ask me to say outside, Shags projected, sounding offended by that.

“Must have thought you were a dog,” Chance observed.

The wolf snorted at that. What sort of farmer can’t tell a wolf from a dog? A poor one if you ask me.

They walked through the gates and were met with a wall of noise, of crowds and activities in the narrow streets beyond, in between cramped buildings, coming to a sudden stop.

Chance had expected he would have welcomed the sound of hustle and bustle that came along with large crowds; it was what he was used to after all, a return to something akin to city life. To his great surprise, he actually found it almost overwhelming, despite it not being overly large, the noise of it all blurring into one solid mess. All the time that he had spent away from it in the quiet of the wilds had wrought its changes on him.

Snarl took a look around with distaste evident on his face and began to sweep the street before him rather angrily. “How can they live like this?” he asked.

“It has its advantages,” Chance said. “It is easier to find things in larger settlements.”

“Like plagues and pestilence,” Snarl added before giving a shake of his head. “I hope that your plans for Azval Stalvaq don’t lead to anything like this.”

“It won’t,” Chance promised. “It will always remain a wild place.”

“Good,” Snarl replied, aggressively sweeping around him some more.

Chance started along the street, leading the horse and cart behind him. It might not have been quite as dirty as Snarl had made out, but nor was it entirely clean, not compared to what they had become used to, not with so many people crammed in together. Their progress through the town towards the square brought with it a great many looks, with talk and activity halting whenever they came into view. Mothers grabbed at children to rag them out of the way, and men gripped tightly to whatever they could snatch up, though they looked nervous and uneasy about it. Chance smiled as best he could at people as they walked, trying to present a friendly appearance. The presence of Snarl and Yrip in particular undermined much of his efforts, for they had people on edge. As he looked about, Chance became aware that everyone he could see in the town was human, which only served to make him and his companions stand out even more.

While few of the people seemed to remark much upon Shags, their attention on the other two, the wolf’s presence did set off any nearby animals. Cats hissed and ran, dogs whined and horses reared and snickered, trying to get away, at least until Chance extended forth his calming influence upon them, to keep them from being disturbed and return some normalcy to matters.

The town square, when they reached it, was even more crowded than the streets, with many stalls set up beneath bright-coloured awnings, selling a variety of goods, though those seemed in short supply and not of great quality. Many people were still crowded around them, despite the late hour, seeking out what was available.

Built around the square were a number of impressive stone buildings, different from the ones they had seen earlier, and as Chance looked at them, he knew that they were wrought by dwarven hands, not human ones. In front of the largest of them all, one that stood three stories in height and was capped by a great dome of green stone, a harried looking woman stood, talking to a small mob of people who were gathered before her. She had grey in her dark hair, and her face was troubled, yet she still had an air of strength about her that commanded attention. A golden chain hung around her neck, supporting a golden disk. She had to be the mayor, Chance felt, and so he made his slow way through the crowds towards her, the horses and the cart helping to clear the path as much as the broadly grinning Snarl, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely and the reactions he caused.

“We are doing all that we can,” Chance heard the woman saying as they drew near. “If we could do more, we would.”

“It isn't good enough,” one of those before her said, and those around him began to murmur agreement, only to fall silent as Snarl loomed up behind him towering over the man.

“Good afternoon,” he said jovially, resting upon his broom. “Is there a problem here?”

The man turned slowly around to look up at Snarl and swallowed hard. “No, no problems.”

“Well, that is good to hear, as my friend here needs to speak to the Mayor,” Snarl went on, motioning towards Chance.

“Yes, yes, of course,” the man replied. “Sorry to bother you,” he added and soon the crowd was dispersing, leaving the woman alone with Chance and his friends.

“Mayor Hilesia?” Chance asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” the woman replied, with more than a touch of wariness in her voice and her eyes, looking from one to the next of the group before her.

“My name is Chance, and we are here to help.”