Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 254: Long May He Reign

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Chul Asclepius

It did indeed take several hours for the line to dwindle enough to allow the good people of the countryside into the city. I stayed with them, wary of some sort of cowardly strike from the noblemen from before. The Mayor of Men had explained to me in the aftermath that many nobles were callous and cruel to those they deemed lesser, and I had risked their wrath in saving that lone soul.

The way he described them made me think of how Soleil described the dragons of the Indrath Clan. With their holier-than-thou attitudes and upturned chins, the bearded phoenix had recounted to me how they held the other clans with a measure of disdain.

But the Flamesworth noble, I thought as I stared down at the bed in the rented room. He was different. Yet I do not understand how.

The Mayor of Men had graciously offered coin to an inn owner. Apparently, many of the inns and taverns within Blackbend were packed and crowded beyond belief due to the influx of refugees. The city itself seemed fit to bursting, even as many tents and campsites were arrayed outside the walls.

The Mayor of Men had counted himself lucky even being able to gain entrance to the city at all, a token of the Noble of Flames' allowance. But once inside, it was nearly impossible to even walk.

People were everywhere, radiating fear and anxiety as they were packed like arrows in a quiver. More than once on my way to the inn, I had to measure my step so that I would not trample those smaller than I beneath my feet.

Now, I ate a small meal of oats and dried meat in the common room of the inn, keeping my bulky form in the corner and away from prying eyes. Suncrusher hung simply from my belt, her light low in the tense room.

The good inn owner had explained that rations in the city were low. With the farmers and countrymen being forced to cluster around the cities, food stores were dwindling rapidly as demand outpaced supply.

But I did not need great sustenance to maintain my body. Mana was the driving succor of the asura, and I was no different.

Still, as I tasted the humans' strange concoction of oats–it was more bland than the fruits grown from the Hearth Trees–I let myself listen in on the conversations happening around the common area.

"Think you'll be going back to the Wall, Nathan?" a bulky man asked a thinner mage. "I know your unit is technically here just for resupply, but there've been a lot of reassignments lately. What with all the... dangers of the countryside."

The stringy one called Nathan sighed, sloshing a drink in his mug. "I don't know, Saul. We are here for a resupply, but this feels different. The attacks on the Wall have started to slow, ya know?"

"They're... slowing?" Saul said with uncertainty, leaning forward in his seat. "Didn't hear anything about that from my garrison's reports."

"They've been slowing for months," Nathan said sharply, his voice lowering. "We expected some sort of massive horde to attack us, so we prepared and geared up en masse for an assault. But it never came."

"It did come, though," the other responded quietly. "Just not at the Wall."

The patrons around the common room jumped in surprise as Nathan slammed his mug into the table with the thunderous crash of a judge's gavel. "What's the point of it all?" he lamented, his voice breaking. With a start, I realized he must have been intoxicated. So early in the morning? "We built the entire fucking Wall to keep people safe, Saul! And still, people die!"

The inn common room–which had been bustling with steady noise–fell silent at Nathan's outburst. All eyes turned to him as he stood, his flushed cheeks barely hiding the blurring tears. "We're useless up on that slab of rock and stone! We're all trying to save our families back here, but it's useless!"