"Sir Walter, it is long past sunrise and today is the day of your audience with King Lorenz! If you don't get up soon, the head-house maid will make sure I get much more than a stern telling off, and I dare not think what the king will do to you!"
The doors burst open as a young lady carrying a weaved basket quickly entered the room. The man lying on the cannopied oak bed grumbled as he slowly rose to a sitting position. Eyes half open, he stared at the white stone walls in the corner of the room next to his bed. A few seconds later, he tossed aside the bedcovers and carefully placed his feet onto the carpetted wooden floor.
Now barely awake, the man Walter procceeded to aimlessly look around the small bedroom. He briefly glanced at the evenly spaced wooden beams holding up the ceiling, then looked towards the woman who had woke him. The young woman was busy at work, and was currently opening the curtains to the large french windows, letting in light that Walters eyes had yet adjusted too. Still half asleep, Walter exclaimed
"Margery, where in the name of...."
"Your clothes are on top of the bedside drawer, sir, just like they always are". The busy lady chuckled as she atteneded to the bed, stripping the bedsheets. For a serving girl to cut off their employer would be considered the height of disrespect, yet Walter bearly paid it any mind. He instead strolled over to the drawer and pulled off the pile of clothes and started to change out of his white nightgown.
The clothes were nothing special. A simple dark blue woolen robe, lined with linen, that reached down to the ankles. Yet on Walter, the robes looked as if they were the attire of a wise scholar or learned mage, albeit if not for his pale skin and constant soul piercing brown eyes, one would be forgiven for mistaking him for a knight. His short back swept hair joint his beard with well kept, straight sideburns. Dark circles from too many sleepless nights had formed under Walters eyes, and a slight layer of grease covered his dark brown hair.
With no time left to wash, Walter buckled a leather belt, with a small pouch hanging from the side, around his waist and out of the pouch he pulled a rounded iron object. After a short twist, the object extended into two hemispheres joint by thin metal rods. Inside, a glowing white gem embedded firmly in the lower hemisphere hummed as if it were a radio picking up a constantly shifting wave. Pulsating, the object quickly floated out of Walters hand until it was hovering in position over his head. Within 3 seconds, the gem engulfed Walter in an opaque dark green aura and shortly afterwards, the greasy hair became as if it were freshly washed, and the fatigue drained from his body. After a snap of Walters fingers, the green aura quickly retreated back to the object, which then promptly placed itself back into the pouch.
Finally, Walter pulled on his leather moccasins and once again turned to face the servant girl, Margery. The young woman was now in the process of folding the bedsheets and placing them in the basket she had brought with her.
Margery was no older than 17 years of age. Her black hair, flowing beyond her shoulders, was mostly covered by a white headdress. Her dainty nose was situated between two large green eyes, glowing with youthful excitement, yet her deep red lips radiated a sense of maturity well beyond her years. Her petite calloused hands continued to gracefully fold the bedding. As she picked up the basket and placed it on top of the trunk at the end of the bed, Walter carefully observed her attire that was now fully visible in the rays of light from the open french windows.
She wore a simple white dress, laced at the front. Her sleeves were covered by baggy, blue, woolen attachments from her shoulders down to her wrists. Four long black cloth pieces at her waist hung down to the bottom of the dress. This was the dress of a noblemans personal maid, and Margery was appointed as such by Walter himself the day prior.
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"The head-house maid works fast" Walter deliberated "Managing to arrange such a dress in a single day? Why, its almost as if the sly old woman was expecting me to select Margery as my personal maid. When im finished here, i'll have to have a quick look into that hags intentions"
Walter shook his head and sighed as he walked out into the wooden plank corridor. He continued down the stone stairs, embellished with an equisite iron railing. As he turned the stairs corner and stepped into the large central hall, he was respectfully greeted by the multitude of servants attending to the small manor house. As they passed him, each bowed at the waist with the usual "Good afternoon, sir Walter". Walter simply raised his hand to dismiss the servants, and continued on to the front of the manor house, where the noblemans entrance was placed. As Walter opened the thick wooden door and stepped out onto the cobbled street, he adorned his feathered chaperon, a tradition only commonly held by court mages with intent to visit the king.
The streets were busy with carriages carrying minor nobles without territory, members of court and wealthy merchants with royal connections. Walter personally could not stand carriages, and instead chose to simply walk to the palace. The bumpy cobbled roads and poor suspension, not to mention the nigh nonexistant padding on seats - why would anybody subject themselves to such an ordeal? You'd reach your destination no faster, as this was wessend-upon-lydo, the capital of the Kingdom of Wesamont. The traffic from other visiting noblemen could delay any trip by half of an hour at the least and crowded market streets would cause jams all over the city simply from the flow of goods and people.
No, Walter would not drop to the level of those "foolish merchants and noblemen" (in his own words).
Of course, this was just Walter's pride speaking. In all honesty, the journey to the palace by foot was not without its own difficulties. Wesamont has yet to develop the concept of city planner. Merchants would buy out land as they needed it to build warehouses, storefronts and employee accomodation. Rulers always wanted something to mark their name down in history; Walter passed at least 10 squares and statues dedicated to long forgotten kings and conquerers.
The streets are an unforgiving maze to those unfamiliar with the city. Landmarks are of no help when building architecture can suddenly switch from gothic to rennaisance with no warning or prior indication. Streets that were straight paths one day may now suddenly lead to a dead end which is nothing more than a consequence of giving the upper classes free reign over their land within the city. Fires, disease and famine may see entire quadrants of the city blocked; why spend precious resources trying to save the damned, those you keep from danger will replace the lost soon enough.
Still, residences of the city did have one guiding light, the only unchanging factor in the entire city. Every building, be it church or peasant housing, has a single sloped roof coated with a metallic sheen. The sloped roofs always face towards the outside of the city - head away from the slopes and reach the city walls, head towards them and reach the palace and major market square.
20 minutes after his departure from the upper district, the location of Walters manor abode, the young mage spotted the first signs of the kings central market, also known as the major market square. Ten large covered wagons pulled by 2 horses each slowly proceeded along the single carriage width street. A single horse would usually suffice for wagons of this size yet clearly even two horses were struggling, each horse straining to pull the wagons at even a snails pace.
"Those wagons must be carrying some sort of metal ore, surely" Walter, who usually took little notice of the goods carried within the market, showed a mysterious interest in these carriages. "I understand selling raw materials at the market, a great deal of merchants and workers will gladly buy the goods for their trade at negotiable prices, but those wagons are not designed for such weights. Whoever the owner is, they must be in a great hurry to rid themselves of the contents"
Walters interest in the wagon did not last long. As soon as he realised he could simply find out what was within them at the market, he shrugged and continued on walking. It was he who requested an audience with the king, and it surely would not bode well if he were late.