Chapter Eleven: Knock Knock, Little pig Little pig, Let Me In
After a day of uneventful walking, the trio finally cleared the forest. A vast grassland now spread out before them, the sudden contrast being a bit jarring. Other than the occasional clearing in the woods, Larson had spent his entire time in the game so far surrounded by trees. Shielding his eyes from the increase of light, he took a deep breath, the excitement growing in his heart.
Half a day had passed and Galdon still hadn’t woken up. With Larson swearing he was getting heavier and heavier with each step. Luckily Hasson noticed the boy’s suffering and offered to carry Galdon instead.
“I guess what they say about cats liking to sleep, rings true,” Larson said while glancing at the sleeping Galdon currently on Hasson’s back.
“You have no right to comment about the sleeping patterns of others.”
Failing to think of a comeback, Larson just nodded in defeat.
Quickly bouncing back, he ran forward and spread out his arms, “It's so much emptier than I had expected.” Larson said while twirling around in circles a few times.
When Galdon and Hasson had spoken about Duio village, he was thinking something along the lines of small grass huts with more cows than people. However, that thought was not reflected by the sight in front of him.
In the distance, a towering wall could be seen protecting the lives of the citizens behind it. The land surrounding the wall was dotted with small farms and the occasional herd of cattle. Smoke from many chimneys could be seen filling the air. Even though from their current location he couldn’t hear the hustle and bustle, Larson was sure that over those walls was a lively town.
“I thought ya’ll said this was a village?”
“It’s a border village to be exact,” Hasson replied as they continued to make their way forward.
“What’s the difference?”
“Border villages are located next to the edge of a territory and usually slightly larger.”
Larson nodded along to Hasson’s words. ‘If this is how big a village is, I can’t wait to see a town or city.’ He thought as they drew closer to a dirt road worn down by years of wagon and foot traffic. After inquiring with Hasson, he learned that the road ran parallel to the forest, connecting most of the villages along its rim.
“Now that I think about it, why are there no roads leading to or from the church?” Larson asked as he thought back. He’d explored all around the area of the church, and even though there were plenty of trails, there weren’t any actual roads.
“Most of Natagil is like that actually. No one really knows why, but anything bigger than a hunter's trail doesn’t last long there. Most believe that it has something to do with Natulis’ blessing. Since this border forest is technically in Zerxon, roads will last a bit longer within it, but not by much. There used to be a nice road leading through the trees to the church, but it was reclaimed by the forest long ago.”
Hasson continued his explanation all the way up until they arrived in the shadow of the wall of the village. Craning his head back, Larson figured it to be towering about fifteen feet in height. From a distance, he’d also thought that it was tall, but being up so close to it really put it into perspective. With the setting sun making the wall cast an impressive shadow, it felt more like a fortress than a village.
“I've already told you, no one is allowed entry into the village again till morning.” An aggravated voice rang out from the direction of the entrance.
Drawing his attention from the wall looming over him, Larson jogged over to the voice with Hasson quietly following. Next to a towering wooden door was a simple guard post. It was from there that the annoyed voice continued to shout. A small group of people with short stature wearing angry expressions were currently being yelled at by a plump man in fancy armor.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“It’s not yet dark, there’s no reason for you to keep us out of the village!” An older man amidst the group refuted. Besides the older man was a pair of ruddy looking twins. Both of which were gripping hammers and struggling to hold themselves back from beating the guard black and blue. Out of curiosity, Larson started to appraise the group.
Name: (Hidden)
Titles: None
Race: Human
Main Job: City Guard
Secondary Job: Gate Keeper
Level: 25
HP: 2200/2200
MP: 2000/2000
Status: Healthy
Bounty: 0 Gold
Name: (Hidden)
Titles: Master Smith
Race: Mountian Dwarf
Main Job: Blacksmith
Secondary Job: Miner
Level: 49
HP: 5100/5100
MP: 3900/3900
Status: Healthy
Apprentice: Mitle Orzus, Rimus Orzus
Bounty: 0 Gold
However, he only managed to appraise two before Hasson whacked him. With a grunt, he covered the back of his head and looked towards him with an accusatory glare.
“I already warned you about appraising others without their permission outside of combat.”
“... I forgot…” Larson said with a pout, still rubbing where Hasson had whacked him.
Hasson’s and Larson’s interaction caught the attention of the guard. Assuming that they were backup for the group in front of him he scowled. The group's leader noticed the guards change and followed his line of sight. Seeing the new trio heading towards him he was secretly excited. With this many people, if they caused a big enough scene they'd have a better chance of getting into the village before nightfall.
“Good evening everyone, what seems to be the problem?” Hasson asked with a smile as he stepped in front of Larson, giving off the feeling of a harmless old man.
“Evenin’, this guard is making a fuss with some nonsense about us being a group of bandits. Using it as some excuse to keep us out the village.” The leader of the small group said as he stepped forward. “My names Pladers, a blacksmith from Figsbrieer.”
“Is that so? To travel all the way from Figsbrieer, you must be here for the resin stone found in the forest.”
“Correct, we arrived yesterday and spent today searching in the forest. We'd just decided to call it a day and return to the inn, little did we know we'd be stopped at the gate.”
Turning towards the guard, Hasson put on a contemplative look, “I was under the impression that the gates of the village weren't supposed to be closed until the day's final light.”
“As a guard of the village, I have the right to close the gate at any time if it's to keep suspicious characters out.”
“Then explain why you're trying to charge us five gold to enter, huh! You only ordered the gate closed after we refused to pay your ridiculous fee!” One of the twins bellowed, the grip on his hammer tightening.
“Five gold?” Hasson asked in bewilderment.
“Yeah! This bastard is clearly just trying to extort our money from us! Yet he dares to call us bandits!”
“One gold coin a head is a fair price.” The guard sneered, “Not even able to pay a simple entrance fee. Nothing but a bunch of suspicious no good dwarfs in my book.”
“I was unaware that the village leader had implemented an entrance fee.”
“What's it to you, you damn elf? Why don't you take your sick cat and demon back to the trees where you belong.” The guard said while shooing away the trio with obvious disgust.
“Oi! I dare ya to say something like that again ya fat pig!” Larson snarled as he moved to lunge at the man, yet he was stopped by Hasson. Gripping the raging dragon by the shoulder, Hasson pulled him back. He still had a harmless smile on his face as he then pulled an emerald medallion out of his robe. As soon as the guard saw the medallion Hasson was holding, he froze. The new string of insults he was about to say got stuck in his throat.
“Now then, tell me again good sir, why is it that you won't allow us inside the village?”