"Halt!"
The carriage halted, indeed. It was a young man who hollered at them with a beautiful voice and a beaming smile, dressed in very knightly armor. He was handome, almost too handsome, with pure white hair and golden eyes that were poised to outshine the very sun. A luminescent sword was sheathed at his waist, glowing and pulsing incessantly. No one commented on it, so it was either a normal thing or another case of visual garbage. They must've been short on manpower if they sent someone who looked as though they had a promising future to guard the outer gate. He definitely did not look to be a gate guard by trade. Whoever posted him here hadn't even tried to hide their intent. Earle frowned; if he met this man on the streets, he would've tried to give him cancer, so it was somewhat understandable.
"State your purpose of entry and provide identification."
What was this? He seemed diligent, too. Earle was hating him more with each passing second. To top it off, he only had an answer to one of the two asks. It was just now that he learned of the need for identification. He wasn't even sure if he had a legal identity. He never had to leave his home, after all. Earle sent a hopeful glance toward Mayid, speaking in a whisper.
"M-Mayid, do you have anything? Do I even have identification documents?"
"Of course you do, Master. It's back at the mansion."
The guard heard the conversation between the two.
"You don't have your identification?"
Damn him. It wasn't just that he was handsome and diligent, but he was capable as well. Not to say that Earle wasn't; he was sure that he would beat the guard in every aspect. The guard took a moment to inspect them with his irritatingly righteous eyes before speaking again.
"It doesn't seem like you're refugees, and you don't seem suspicious, but you still pose a risk to security. I'll have to ask of you to pull your carriage over to the guard post for a brief interview with the captain, to determine if we can let you in. Follow behind me, if you please."
His speech was kind and polite. Ptoo.
"Of course!"
"Ah, and I've been meaning to ask you, where's your coachman?"
His ride here had been so relaxing that Earle had almost forgotten about the draggers. His frown grew deeper in disgust; when he stepped out of the carriage he'd have to see the pile of bodies again, probably far more mangled by now. Earle cautiously put together a response for the guard.
"We have a... special breed of horses pulling our carriage. They're highly intelligent, and only need minor guidance. Isn't that right, Mayid?"
"Exactly correct, Master."
The guard accepted his explanation without issue and started walking toward the gate. There was no doubt in Earle’s mind that he only saw the horses. Something to be thankful for; they probably would’ve been greeted with a magical bombardment otherwise.
”The gates! Open the gates!”
The now familiar rattling of chains sounded out, and the gate started rising with a rumble.
“I’ll meet you at the post. It’ll be on your left right when you pass through the gate, but you’ll need to find some space to park your carriage.”
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Mister infuriatingly handsome guard took his leave.
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It had been a long time since Soren had felt such relief. Ever since this damned sword was thrusted upon him, there had never been time to relax. It was just one problem after another. It didn’t help that the sword could talk; despite being granted such a gift, it chose to do naught but whine in his ears from sunrise to sunset. So, he decided to take a break. He was sick of dealing with this kingdom. He left the nobles to their politics and happily let himself be assigned to a “lowly” position as a gate guard for some time.
Soren!
”Sword.”
What are you doing!? We should be out on the battlefield, fighting against the vile demons who are plotting to invade our land! It is your duty as my wielder! Instead, you decide to indulge yourself in the capital, letting others die in your place!
“You know as well as I do that there’s no such thing. The demons don’t dare to have plots anymore, with how they’ve spent the past few wars being decimated. It would be nothing more than a pointless genocide now. It’s already enough dealing with the tasks that the Duke sends me on. I don’t need anything more on my plate.”
Soren let out a sigh that blew away with the wind. He closed his eyes and turned his head downward, hair fluttering in the cool breeze. It was a chilly autumn. He inhaled, opened his eyes, and exhaled upward, his gaze toward the cloudless sky.
”Now is the time for me to relax.”
Relax!? RELAX!? There will be no such thing! When you received me, do you know what you became!? A symbol! A symbol of-guh!?!
The sword… went silent. Soren was too perceptive not to notice that it was startled. And it did not speak for some time, hiding its luminescence as if in fear of what was to come. It started pulsing as a carriage slowly came rattling into view. Then Soren felt it too. An overwhelming power radiated from within. It felt, almost ancient. He couldn’t hope to match its power even if a miracle were bestowed upon him. He would have to handle this carefully. If something went wrong, the capital would be in ruins by the end of the day. He may have found those in the center distasteful, but the ones they leeched off of deserved better from him, at least. So he decided to put forth his best effort.
“Halt!”
There was no coachman to follow his words, but the horses still brought themselves to a stop on their own. Magical beasts? He couldn’t tell. Something was obscuring his vision. It wasn’t a good sign. He adopted a relaxed posture with his hand on the pommel of his sword, walking toward the carriage with a smile on his face. It wouldn’t do any good to show he noticed something amiss. He could almost feel the ancient creature’s amusement at his attempt of deception.
“State your purpose of entry and provide identification.”
He just hoped he didn’t hear anything to ominous. As he prepared himself for doom, he heard a surprisingly pathetic voice whispering within the carriage.
”M-Mayid, do… anything? Do… even have identification…?”
”Of course, Master… at the mansion…”
Soren interjected. He gained some confidence. It seemed to only be acting as a supervisor.
”You don’t have your identification?”
How could he solve this? It would be best to send them to the captain. He was sure the creature - Mayid, as the “Master” called it - had a way to guarantee their identity. Soren decided to follow regular procedure. It wasn’t trying to announce its presence, it seemed. Soren just hit the unfortunate sweet spot of competence where he could feel it.
"It doesn't seem like you're refugees, and you don't seem suspicious, but you still pose a risk to security.”
Soren impressed himself with the bold-faced lie. He didn’t think he had it in him. The pair was beyond just suspicious. And a “risk” was putting it mildly.
”I'll have to ask of you to pull your carriage over to the guard post for a brief interview with the captain, to determine if we can let you in. Follow behind me, if you please."
He was just turning to guid them along before he remembered his little curiosity.
”Ah, and I’ve been meaning to ask you, where’s your coachman?”
”We have a... special breed of horses pulling our carriage. They're highly intelligent, and only need minor guidance. Isn't that right, Mayid?"
”Exactly correct, Master.”
“Mayid” allowed him to have a glimpse of the reality, as if mocking him. It was gruesome. And he could not afford to help, though he wanted to so, so very badly. He quickly turned around and walked off, his mind in turmoil. He managed his expression to the best of his abilities. He hoped that only the supervisor had such a sick hobby, and that the one she supervised was blissfully unaware. He really hoped so.
”The gates! Open the gates!”
A hint of urgency entered his voice. As long as they could stay on amicable terms, all would be fine. He understood why the sword - why Halcyon - had gone silent. It knew.