Saviour of Neither

4 - Judica

Like Nora predicted, it takes two days to arrive at the capital, Magairleag. I pass by a few hamlets and a fairly large town situated in a valley, and grow tired of seeing fields and forest. It is as if I am stuck in an illusion, the landscape repeating over and over again. Other than the unvarying hours, however, the journey is fairly comfortable; Nora and I discuss things like hobbies (during which I take care not to mention anything to do with needlework) and developments with the inhabitants of Garadh.

"They've started taking people hostage - kidnapping them from their towns." Nora says on the second day of our journey. "Sometimes I wonder whether they should be considered rational beings at all."

Quite frankly, they're kidnapping the wrong people - they really ought to take the Paladins hostage, they're the ones who wash their blood off their hands.

That would include Chester.

Has he killed a Menial yet?

Won't Chester be there? I'll get to see him again.

Oh, never mind.

Eventually, however, Magairleag begins to come into view: first a thin line of black on the horizon, before the skyline begins to take shape, with its mansions and high-rises and temples, before a whirlwind of colours explode in front of you, as you arrive at the West entrance gate over a moat filled with clear, twinkling water. Even with my red-green colour blindness I can tell the capital is a vibrant one.

"Impressive, is it not?" Nora asks me. I automatically nod in response before ovserving further.

Certainly it's an interesting place, though if you look close enough you can observe the uglier side of the capital. There are thieves as young as eleven or twelve prowling for an opportunity; clearly drunken men looking to cause trouble; and glimpses of the tumbledown terraces if you look further than the renowned Broadlight Parade.

Several people are trying to get a glimpse of the carriage. I shrink slightly in my seat.

"Humour them." Nora says calmly. "After all, all of Magairleag know you are a nominee for Rackrail's replacement, and are merely excited to see you."

I reluctantly sit up, muster a grin, and wave. The crowd goes wild.

"That wasn't too difficult, was it?"

I do not grace her with an answer.

Eventually we leave Broadlight Parade and, after a series of other affluent roads and leaving the main city, head down a considerably heavier-guarded route. I know the name of this road too - Orlean Street. The entire lane is guarded with soldiers from Ceatha's army, commonly nicknamed the Ursans.

"Is this the nominee?" the Chief of the Guard asks suspiciously. His tone takes me by surprise; I had assumed that, just like Nora said, people would be excited, or at least interested. This man seems to be trating me rather like how an ordinary Adroite would treat a Menial if they were to meet. Indeed he seems very battle-worn, with a gruff beard and dark ruffled hair. I would say he's roughly late-30s.

"I can assure you he is, Captain." Nora answers him. His eyes scrutinise me for a few more seconds, taking note of my form and especially my goggles, before capitulating.

"Very well." he turns to his men. "Open the gates!" he orders.

The gold-plated gates slowly open without the slightest hint of a creak or snag. It's nothing particularly noteworthy - a smartly mowed lawn and some fir trees are all that adorn the entrance - but the building is stunning; a stately castle, built from huge bricks of stone of limestone and andesite. It is absolutely titanic, dwarfing our carriage several times over.