Ryder was the first to wake. Pain in his chest as his tunic stuck to his wound.

The weather was calm but gusty. Puffy clouds painted across the sky.

Cautiously, Ryder walked to the road. He carefully looked up and down it but could only see the large stone gatehouse and stationery wagons in front. Going back to their sleeping spot, Ryder was unsurprised at seeing the slumbering oaf.

Ryder nudged him awake with his foot.

Durge opened his eyes and a ray of sunlight struck him through the trees. “Dammit,” he groaned. “It’s midday already. Guess we’ll have to try again tomorrow,” he nestled back into his rucksack.

Ryder shoved him again. “Don’t you want an actual bed?”

“Ehhhhh.”

“Don’t you want to hire a brothel maid to keep you company in a low-lit inn?”

Warm thoughts came over Durge, bringing a grin to his face.

“Fine.”

As he stood up, he shook grass and leaves out of his shaggy black hair.

The pair gathered their little belongings, readied their newly acquired horse, and slowly walked up the road. They passed by a multitude of vertical banners fluttering in the wind. Skulls, lions, crests, patterns, and creatures swayed with every spectrum of color visible to the human eye. As they ventured forth towards the large wooden gates that prevented them from entering, they saw one large banner hung in the center.

It was the flag of Maria. Purple stripes aligned the top and bottom while the middle was gold. The flag’s symbol prominently displayed an intricate and unusual chimera-like creature. It was depicted as a normal lion with its mane and claws but it had tusks, quills, and two tails. One of the tails looked like a flexible spear while the other was scaled like a pangolin’s body.

The two were amused by it while they made their way. Coming upon the gate they could see wagons and stagecoaches lined up, tents off to the sides, and people muttering softly to themselves.

Ryder looked back behind, “I wonder if Kincaid will be here.”

Durge huffed, gazing at the closed gate, “Why is it shut?”

“Perhaps they were attacked too? We should go talk to someone.”

“I’ll go do it. I don’t want anyone getting any funny ideas about ransoming the Countess’s son, so you keep that necklace in your tunic.”

Ryder looked skeptical, “Right…”

There were plenty of people to talk to at the checkpoint. Durge presumed all of them to be refugees, but some looked better off than others. He went near the front of the gate and saw an elderly man sitting upon a simple wagon while his gray horse sniffed at the dirt.

“Greetings,” Durge said.

“Greetings, boy! What tidings do you bring?” the old man said. His head had patchy white hair with an accompanying long and scraggly beard. His wrinkled and sun-beaten skin must have experienced seventy or eighty summers on the Locrian seas.

“Can’t say I bring any that we haven’t all seen already.”

“Aye, son. Dirty business it was. I just unloaded all my cargo at the ware’ and was gonna ride into the fishin’ district til’ I saw them fires… Pirates it must’ve again.”

Durge nodded, “Were you the first one here? Why are the gates closed?”

The old man was silent and drifted his sight into the void of his thoughts.

“Old timer!” Durge shouted.

“Huh?”

Durge repeated himself and the elder gave an enthused answer.

“Oh! I wasn’t the first one. Them family over yonder were the first. The gates been shut since I got here.”

“Thank you and farewell,” Durge said stiffly.

Looking past the other wagons and stagecoaches, Durge could see the family the elder was talking about. A tan human and a teal elf were sitting on the forest’s edge playing with two children.

Durge returned to Ryder. He was being fidgety and weird on top of his horse.

“What ails you, Rye?” Durge asked.

“I have to piss!” he whispered.

Durge scoffed. “Then go piss.”

“But I don’t want to take the horse!”

“I have to go talk to more people, just take it with you, dumbass!”

“What if it watches me!” Ryder exclaimed.

Durge left.

Ryder hastily got off the horse after anxious contemplation and pulled its reins towards the woods. Ryder tried hitching the horse to one of the trunks of the trees but the urge to relieve himself took precedence over the security of the reins’ knots.

Durge was near the family. The human male stood up fiercely when he noticed Durge and gripped the pommel of his sword.

Durge quickly put his arms up and palms outward.

“I mean you no harm. Just seeking questions about why we’re outcasted from Maria,” Durge said.

The man calmed but still looked inquisitively as Durge approached him.

The sea-elven wife took her two kids and pushed them behind her.

“Who are you?” the man demanded.

“I’m Durge. I came from Locria, I’m assuming just like everyone else here.”

“How’d you escape?”

“I was near the manor when it happened. Escaped through the Cully Woods and proceeded northwards.”

“Did you see anyone else on the road!?” the sea elf exclaimed.

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The woman was shaken and wide-eyed.

“We met a few Locrian guards, Captain Kincaid and his soldiers,” Durge gazed at the red road beneath.

“Kincaid? He was the one who escorted us.” the husband said.

The woman’s eyes teared up and she turned away.

The man comforted her, “I’m sorry. We’ve lost a lot.”

Durge slightly bowed, “We have all.”

“Look away!”

Ryder took a few steps to focus on the task at hand.

With a frustrated growl, he looked over his shoulder.

The brown chestnut horse was still staring at him.

“Quit looking at me!”

The horse neighed.

Ryder walked further away from the horse until he was behind a tree.

The entirety of Durge’s conversation with the family turned gleeful as he proved his innocence and bonded over the loss of Locria. He told tales of frightful encounters with goblins and the noble deeds of the Locrian Captain to the two eager children.

After they talked about each other's history, the husband spoke, “So now I’ll be working at my brother's livery now- well if the gates ever open again. So stop by sometime if you ever need anything or want to help around and earn a few pearls.”

“Well, I wish you all to fare well in these times, Rodin and Galia,” he smiled at the two boys that surrounded him and jostled their hair, “You two as well, Anch and Bhan!”

As Durge took a few steps and waved his goodbyes to the family, a mechanical screeching sound erupted from the city walls and the gates began to open.

“I know you’re still looking at me!” Ryder yelled.

He flinched when he heard the gates.

“Shit!”

The horse squealed and bolted through the forest with its reins swaying loose.

Ryder was finally able to relieve himself.

Durge went to where he last saw Ryder and peered through all the trees surrounding him. A cloud of red dust and strong winds crowded the skies while the gate continued to open. A mass of people exited Maria, all on horseback and empty wagons, heading southbound to Locria.

Shouts, whips, and stomps littered the road. Durge narrowly avoided being trampled in the middle of it all until he was forced to the borders of the woods. There he saw a lonesome Ryder.

“Where’s the horse!?” Durge yelled.

“It ran off!”

“Ran off!? You’re supposed to tie the fucking horse first!”

“I did, but it ran off when that gate opened!” Ryder pointed towards the chaos. All manner of people were still exiting Maria.

“Idiot,” Durge muttered.

“You take the horse next time!”

“Button up your pants and let’s go!”

Slowly they were able to enter Maria. Although the gate entrance was about 4 carriages wide, the gate was congested and chaotic; unless someone wanted to be flattened, they would wait in the line formed near the outer wall to enter.

In the silence between the two, Durge told Ryder, “You hold on to that satchel while we make our way. We don’t want to be picked. You can do that at least, can’t you?”

Ryder rolled his eyes.

It was early evening now. Ryder and Durge shuffled their way into Maria’s entrance, but once inside, it revealed a vast display of color and crowds. Banners and canopies strung across the sky. Smoke and steam arose from nearby vendors. The stench of cooked flesh and sewage strangled the air.

Every species of creature in the world was walking the streets, including a wide variety of Elves, Dwarves, Beasts, Orcs, and Cosmics. The only species not present were the Giants.

Shops ranged from the inner pockets of someone’s coat to a three-story golden hall. This was the commerce center of the Empire. Although Locria was a major treasure port, if anyone wanted to sell their goods, they would find buyers at Maria.

Alchemists, smiths, tailors, taverns, inns, and brothels lined the cobbled streets, while tents littered the corners with beggars grasping for copper coins.

The upkeep of the buildings varied from property to property but it seemed to Ryder that if there was space to sell, one could, and one would. Most of the buildings were of wood and stone, but some were made of straw and some were of mud. Ryder and Durge were so captivated by the sea of bargaining that they were shoved every step they took by the other travelers.

The trance broke once they heard a nearby town crier. His shouts deafened nearby commonfolk while his brass bell deafened the other districts of the city-state.

“Tidings of the country! Tidings of the country!” he shouted.

“Lady Locria murdered and pillaged! Mysterious warbands afoot! Lady Harmony murdered and pillaged! Civil war brewing! State of Melody marching! State of Willow arming! Civil war brewing!” the crier repeated.

A mass of people charged the gates again while others calmly walked onward.

Durge pulled Ryder to a nearby alley. “Harmony is dead!?”

Ryder’s mouth was slightly agape as he stared at the crier, who was now being harassed.

“What do we do now, Rye?” Durge asked.

Ryder’s words stuttered, nothing intelligible was spoken.

Durge gazed at the sea of people, “Let’s just get a room in an inn before we’re stuck in the dark in this wretched city.”

Dusk set. The evening sky filled with dark clouds.

Ryder and Durge looked out of their thin-paned window. Hundreds of people still walked and bartered down the street. It seemed only now that Ryder could notice the blades on everyone’s hip.

Durge lumped back in the bed. “Who knew a place called ‘Overnight Oats’ would have such an ass of an owner. How many pearls did he take from us for a single night? 10?”

“15,” Ryder muttered.

“50 gold coins left. Blasphemy.”

Ryder shook his head, “55.”

“Whatever. What do we do now since Harmony ended the same fate? And this shouting of civil war? Did one of the other city-states plan all this? The giants?

Ryder gazed out the window, “I know not,” he said somberly.

“You know that Rodin guy said to me that we could work in his livery.”

“You’re the last person in this city who wants to shovel horse shit,” Ryder said.

Durge laughed. “The gods know it!” But what are we going to do? We can’t be couriers if we have no horse. Can’t be a smith without any training. I certainly don’t want to be ‘scripted in some fucking civil war!”

“Maybe you can take the bellman’s job and start delivering the bad news to the people until you get strung up like he did,” Ryder pointed distantly to where the town crier swayed.

“Tsk. We’ll be bled dry of our coins if we stay here.”

“That’s why we won’t,” Ryder said calmly.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that, Sir Scholar?”

“Ever heard of Questing?” Ryder asked.

“Some stories but what of it?”

“Well, it’s where adventurers help the populace for coinage.”

“No ‘adventurer’ ever helped me with my ranch.”

“That’s because Mother never built a Guild Hall… and you had no coinage.”

Durge punched Ryder.

Ryder chuckled.

“I’ll pay these adventurers to bury you in the dirt if I have to,” Durge said laughing.

“You’ll have to commission the quest first,” Ryder retorted.

Ryder and Durge slept through the harrowing night and awoke early. The streets were bare in the blue early-morning hue. Through the fogged window, Ryder could see that deep puddles of rainwater covered the city. Tiny ripples formed in the pools, for it was lightly drizzling.

Ryder woke up first, as usual. He carefully got out of the cot, cracked the door enough to slide through, and quietly walked downstairs.

When he sneaked into the foyer, he noticed a man behind the counter, slumped over on top of his ledger, snoring. Based on the man’s stringy hair, Ryder deduced it to be the owner of the inn.

After making it outside and feeling the warm rain and humid air, he quickly made it over to the neighboring building. The hanging sign above it read Soaked Sponge.

Inside the bathhouse, Ryder could see black and red banners that were used as a private entranceway. Pushing the strips of cloth aside, he could see a large pool of steaming water.

Ryder was solitary and satisfied. He first stripped and hung his clothes above a boiling vat of water and flowers, placed himself in one of the great oak wooden tubs to scrub properly, and then practically leaped into the ginormous pool. Free of dirt, mud, and blood, he swam joyfully alone.

Durge drooled onto his pillow.

Ryder relaxed at one of the ends of the pool. He looked at his chest and saw his wound healed quickly, with a faint scarring mark that he cursed himself for.

He eventually wore himself out and closed his eyes, but it was hard to alleviate his troubles when he was twitching at every nearby sound. He took a deep breath and submerged himself under the steaming water. Underneath it sounded like the crackling of fire. Ryder flinched and flashes of Locria immediately went through his mind. He tried to reach the surface but smoke was suffocating him.

His necklace was heavy and submerged him under the surface, the smoke entered his mind. It flooded out of his mouth and nose until he clawed for the surface. The smog enveloped Ryder, turning the pool into an endless abyss. He sank until the skylights above mirrored only the blackness below.

Ryder closed his eyes and the drift of sleep was tempting until it felt like he was launched to the surface. He spewed clear water when he reached one of the mosaic tile edges and breathed heavily.

He was still alone. Only the low murmur of bubbles and the faint sound of raindrops on glass surrounded him in the clear and shallow pool.

After collecting himself, he dried off and removed his clothes from the steaming rack.

Exiting the bathhouse, he passed by a beautiful woman undoing her garments. He immediately flushed and apologized for the intrusions, but she only giggled in a deep and enriching voice.

“You don’t want to watch me undo the rest?” she caressed Ryder’s cheek.

Through nervous chuckles, he looked at her hand and saw it enwrapped in black and purple ink. Runic symbols spread across her hands and rose up her forearms.

“I’ll be seeing you,” she whispered.