Sword of Stars

Chapter Five. The Quest.

Despite the falling rain, the streets of Andrill were still teeming with life. The guards at the gate let them through with a salute, one fisted hand across the stomach with a slight bow, at seeing General Neu, which he acknowledged with a nod of his head. Then they made their way into the city Commons.

Merchants cried their wares from now sheltered shop windows and stalls over the falling rain slapping against wood and brick. People with heavy coats made their way through the wet crowds, hurrying to get errands done and get home to a hot fire or a warm companion. Or perhaps both. Houses of dark brick and tiles made up most of the homes in the city though there was the occasional old wood house still standing if only for historical sake. The occasional person peered out from a window, either examining the passing crowd or daydreaming of a sunny day as the rain pelted their home city.

The stone footpath then opened into the market square where merchant stalls would usually stand in a cluttered and messy setup, now only a few remained, selling essentials. The big fountain in the middle held a statute of an ancient Caster in flowing robes with water spraying upwards from his raised hands above his head. It fell to the round pool with a steady dribble accompanied by the rain. This marked the very center of the city.

As they crossed the square the mercenaries stared to break off with quick goodbyes, heading home to see loved ones and have a hot meal for those that had those things. Most would be heading off to the various inns around the city, attempting to forget the horrors they had witnesses with meade and gambling. They would then wait for their pay then move on to the next mercenary job, where more friends may be lost and more horrors of war would be witnessed. It was a lifestyle that Garek had been in for a long time and he sympathised with his co-workers.

Garek asked General Neu if some of his guard could take over the wagon with Ahallan in the back so that the mercenaries could head off. He nodded and shouted orders back at his men. They moved quickly and orderly to obey. The relieved mercenaries waved gratefully at Garek before disappearing into the sea of buildings and back to a quiet life. For now.

After they had made their way through the winding streets past the market square they finally approached the large steel gates leading to the noble district. The guards obviously spotted General Neu’s armour and his guard from a great distance and began opening the black metal gates. Intricate patterns worked in the cold bars and painted with gold.

Again, the gate guards saluted General Neu as they slowly lumbered on without so much as a pause. The garden district came next, tall trees and pathways wove in-between beautiful gardens filled with the most colourful flowers known, which semi-circled the larger Noble houses. And they were big. Some were two or even three stories high which towered over anything in the Commons with the exception of the inns.

Most of them had their own gates and walls which no doubt held a yard for those lucky kids to run around in. Garek smiled at the mix of both good and bad memories coming back to him and he could help but feel a little sad. He mostly hated the place but a small sadness still intruded at all the familiar sights. Then he wondered what his mother was doing at this moment. He pictured her sitting in her favourite chair with a glass of mulled wine in one hand and her smoking pipe in the other.

As they made their way through the big houses Garek spotted some soldiers round a corner and had to suppress a gasp when he recognized the armour and colours. Rounded armour painted dark browns and greys covered every inch of their bodies. Their helms exposed their mouth and eyes and the top swept back and jutted out with four spikes. Dark charcoal capes with white embroidery around the edges fell heavily with the rain down their backs. As they passed they regarded Garek with cold eyes filled with contempt, as if they were looking down at a filthy stray dog, mouths set in almost snarls. That was something the Guardians of the Blind were good at, seemingly looking down their noses at you even though you were sitting on a huge wagon twice their height.