Out of the Wilds

Chapter 1

Wulfric wondered if he would ever get used to these cities. So many people living in one place for so long that they became part of the earth until the place itself tasted of them. He remembered when he had first come to a decently sized farming village and had been shocked by the size of the buildings and the number of people. Now that seemed like nothing compared to where he was now. Buildings of wood and stone rose multiple stories high, glass windows shining with firelight out onto the street. His ears flicked and twitched as they strained to process all the noise from around him. Hundreds of voices, the neighing and stamping of horses and grunts of oxen and the clatter of shoes upon cobblestones all blending together into a vast background hum like the rumbling of some great beast.

The smells were almost too much at first, his nose wrinkling as he tried to parse it all. Countless people living in close proximity, along with their dogs and horses and oxen and chickens and spirits alone knows what else. Then there was the food, meat and vegetables and fruits of all kind being cooked and spiced and cut and served with beer, mead, wine, vodka and more. Every scent blending together into a hurricane of information that had all been here for so long it seeped into the stone and wood of the buildings and into the very soil itself until nothing and nowhere was rid of the pervasive scent of the metropolis. He supposed it wasn't an unpleasant stink exactly, but was frustrating. Back home, on the tundra and forests of his homeland, he could find his way home by scent alone, or track prey for miles across icy hinterland. This great mess of humanity would make tracking so much more difficult than it had to be.

For the past two weeks he had been constantly on the move, barely ever stopping to rest, eating on the run as he followed the trail down long roads, across country and through towns, following the scent trail of one human in particular. It had begun simply enough, another job, but at this point was dragging him out of his element, and he was becoming more anxious by the day. Grumbling to himself, he bought some smoked meat from a street vendor and sat down beneath an overhanging roof to eat, thinking about the journey he'd been on.

Two weeks ago he had been passing through a small fishing village, looking for work. It was a fairly normal town in the Vadenland, a little on the smaller side, dedicated to fishing in the nearby lake, the whole town smelling of fish guts. He had been traveling through the Vadenland for some time by now, moving from one little kingdom to another. From what he understood they had once been united in one big kingdom, but that had long since broken up into many smaller lands which quarreled and traded with each other. He still didn't understand it that well, back home there were no kings or kingdoms, and only a few towns at all, mostly the cold north was populated by the wandering tribesmen of the Valdyrkin, who were hardy enough to thrive in the forbidding landscape. He heard a commotion coming from the towns square, a general babble of people talking, quieted when the town crier began an address.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" The crier shouted, standing on an upturned fish bucket and clanging a bell loudly. "The baron Marcus Idrenne has need of a servant possessing bravery and skill, willing to endure hardship and danger for a substantial reward of gold! If ye know of any who might answer your lord's call, he begs you implore them to seek out his estate!"

Wulfric pushed forward through the crowd, which parted before him quickly after they got a good look at him. Wulfric had gotten used to this reaction by now. Valdyrkin almost never left their homeland and were the subjects of much rumor and mystery to the townsfolk of the Vadenland. Even if they didn't suspect his origins however, fishers and farmers tended to scatter when a well-armed and mysterious stranger wandered through their midst. "I will answer your lord's call." Wulfric barked, holding his head up proudly.

The crier led him through the countryside up to a large manor house that sat in the center of this little kingdom, or barony, or whatever the locals called it. Vadens seemed to love their titles, the more long winded the better. A guard at the door opened it up for them, and the crier jogged ahead, explaining the situation to an elderly man that had been lingering in the entrance hall. Wulfric stepped in, tracking a little dirt on the thick carpet and inspecting a small statuette that sat on a nearby table.