Where Smoke and Light Collide - ONC 2022

Hello, old friend

At first dawn the cart rattled away from the castle; it had brought baskets of fruits and vegetables, fish and meats, heavy sacks of flour, and casks of wine. The baskets now bounced around empty, everything else had been left behind, giving ample space for one of the castle helpers to travel to the city. Dressed like a commoner, in woolen tunic and trousers, Anya kept her head beneath the cowl as she sat sprawled between the wicker baskets.

It was common for the help to be granted a day off for a visit with their families. The guards hardly bestowed her a glance, as if she were just another basket occupying space in the cart. They let the cart through and the black iron gates closed with a final clank. Anya watched the castle slowly stay behind.

The dirt road soon became into winding cobblestone streets, narrow and musty, with houses built one after another. From the high castle towers, the city looked like a portrait, with its houses dressed in white walls and topped by red shingled roofs. Up close, the discolored walls stood in peeling paint that looked like scales on a dead fish. And most of the roofs had wide gaps with missing shingles, gaps Anya was sure to let the rain in downpours.

The cart rode past many shops and open forges where blacksmiths and vendors had already started their daily work. The city's maze of streets slowly came alive with people, children running about, horses and more carts—and worst of all, royal guards.

Anya tapped at the driver's shoulder to get his attention. The man slightly turned his ear to her. "I'll get off here," she informed.

He brought the horses to a halt and waited for Anya to slide down. Without delaying his journey for a 'thank you', he whipped his horses, and off they went, wheels rattling against the cobblestone ground.

Anya ambled through the streets, studying the people she ran into, wondering who might seem more approachable and how she'd start the conversation. She couldn't flat out ask for the leader of 'the cause', or even mention the words, they'd point her out to the first guard that walked by.

Most of the time she circumvented from the streets where she'd see the royal blue capes and the glint of steel armors, it made her backtrack and lose precious minutes. Her adoptive parents would expect her for the afternoon meal and if summoned, Anya wasn't sure Tati's nervous conscience would cover for her absence. But after a while she noticed the guards lingering on the streets, too occupied in their conversations to pay attention to her—or anyone else. She even found a small group seated at the corner of a cross street, drinking ale directly from flagons and playing cards, their laughter capable of waking the entire block.

If Aaron could see what a superb job his guards were doing in guarding the city, he wouldn't be so confident about the festival's security.

Down a few blocks, Anya passed a bread shop, the sweet aroma of loaves and tarts sending her stomach into rumbles. I should have eaten something. And she should have brought some coin, too. She wanted to kick herself for leaving the castle so heedlessly.

A bakery boy struggled between the narrow doorway of the shop and his tray full of tarts. The tip of the tray got caught on the door frame almost sending the entire lot of mouthwatering tarts tipping over. He managed to regain the balance, but not before two rolled down the slope and broke into pieces in the middle of the street. Cherry spilled from the crumbled tarts, bright and red like blood from an open wound.

From the alleys and nearby houses, children came out like cats who'd found a dead mouse. They darted in a bunch, hands snatching and devouring pieces into their hungry mouths.

"Hey!" Anya forgot herself, running to the feasting kids. "Don't eat that! You could get sick." But they ignored her, even licking their sticky fingers as they finished.