Tales of Fire and Ruin

Pointed Arrow

Much to my surprise, the palace of Wildewall reached less high than the temples in the city. It was evident people favoured the houses of the gods over the royal family, but the palace was still an impressive building in its own right. With stout defensive walls, it was built for fortification rather than beauty. This building would survive a raid while the spiralling, fragile peaks of the temples would crumble after the first catapult-flung stone.

"Why does the queen live in a fort?" I asked, taking in the rough, mosaic stones. The royal family had had few enemies that I was aware of since the elves vanished. I had heard none in Wildewall speak poorly of their queen either.

Endris followed my gaze. "It's not the queen who needs to live in a fort," he corrected. "It was her ancestors. They built this palace right before king Bertram declared war on the elves."

I hummed. That explained why it looked so grim and grey compared to the white stone that made up the other, richer parts of town. Though, the palace compensated for its sullen appearance with the colourful flowers in the gardens stretching out in front of it. I breathed in many sweet scents as we went closer to the open gates.

Oleander had argued the palace would be more quiet without the guests today, but that was far from the truth. An entire army of servants shuffled through the outer gates into the gardens, carrying party provisions varying from vases and heavy tables, to various luxurious-looking food ingredients.

Nobody stopped Oleander, Endris, and I as we followed the servants through the outer gates. A few of the men and women cast curious glances, only to hastily avert their eyes as they saw the mark on my chest, but none of them spoke. Oleander's gaze drifted up to one of the towers. Even from a distance away, it was clear the rocks had plenty of nooks and crannies. If Oleander could climb the smooth, white stone of the inn, he could easily scale these rugged walls.

I almost made a teasing remark about it to Oleander, but held my tongue just in time. The guards, muscular and tall, stationed near second pair of gates that lead into the palace building didn't look like they messed around. If I joked about breaking in, I'd promptly take an axe to the face. Storm-touched or not.

It didn't take long for the burliest of the guards to hold up his hand and glare at me from below a shiny helmet. "Halt!" he commanded. "You stand before the palace of Wildewall, home to the Queen of Wildewall. State your business."

In an odd way, it was refreshing to have a guard yell at me, rather than treat me like a god-touched. It reminded me of home, the folks in town, and the way they spat on the ground as I passed. 

"We have an appointment with master Dagon," I said, nodding at Oleander who was standing behind me.

"Master Dagon has informed us of no appointments with lord Montbow," the guard replied gruffly.

The other guard leaned towards the first one. "Master Dagon mentioned a man with long, silvery hair named Oleander, captain," he said in a hushed tone. "Like that other man." 

The first guard, who evidently was the captain, slowly turned to his underling. He received such an intense death glare I was glad I wasn't him. With a deep sigh, the guard captain turned back to me.

"Oleander can pass," he said. "I will escort him to master Dagon's quarters inside personally."

"And we can wait in the hallway, Wyard?" Endris asked.

I cast a glance back at Endris, grinning at him for being on a first-name basis with the guardsman.

The guard named Wyard hesitated for a moment, but then shook his head with a frown. "Our orders strictly prohibit us from letting anyone in the day before the ball. Only invited parties. And sorry Endris, you and lord Montbow are not invited."