Displaced

Chapter 40

A palpable tension hung over Rul, a sense of impending doom that seemed to almost choke the air from the city and its populace. This wasn't the Rul that Hector remembered. Back when he'd left the strange, creepy facility where he'd found himself without explanation, he'd wandered the hills at the foot of the mountains, unsure about where to go or what to do. It was then when he'd run across a Gustilian patrol and been taken to the nearest city — Rul. The Rul of his memories was a lively one, where the streets were filled with vendors hawking their wares, children frolicking, and a wide selection of comely lasses busy going about their days. Those people were gone. Everybody with the means to leave had left, leaving only the desperate and destitute behind. Not to say that the city was a ghost town now; thousands of people still walked the streets everywhere he looked. But those people all sported weapons in hand and a grim look in their eyes. This was a city waiting to fight. Waiting to die. It annoyed him, frankly. He was never the type to fall into such a malaise. If you had time to mope, you had time to do something about it.

Hector made his way through the crowd, his head high and his eyes proud. People parted as he passed, some because they recognized him, others because of the wide berth needed to avoid his enormous backpack. Over a dozen weapons poked out in various directions from the overstuffed pack. He'd brought everything he thought he'd need down from Nefin, including a battle axe, a polearm, two swords, a dozen daggers, an oversized bow, and a crossbow large enough that it bordered on qualifying as a ballista. If he could carry it all, why not bring it all?

A wry grin grew on his face as soldiers noticed him as he passed, his ears picking up whispers of admiration and awe. In only half a year he was already famous amongst the military. Soon all of Gustil would know his name, then all of the continent of Nocend, then all of Scyria! Nothing would stop his rise! Not even some bullshit invasion! He'd beat down the entire Ubran Empire if that was what it took!

Soon he arrived at the Gustilian Army's makeshift headquarters, a repurposed mansion on the eastern side of the city. The army already had several stations around Rul, but those were meant for the city's usual garrison and couldn't accommodate the magnitude of the current force's command structure. That and the fact that a certain person would be arriving later that day, which meant certain luxury requirements needed to be met.

The guards let him pass with little more than a flash of his captain's badge. They knew who he was and why he was here. Taking his sweet time, he walked along the path through a series of immaculate flower gardens filled with statues of what looked to be mighty heroes of Gustil. He smiled. Soon they'd be making statues of him.

The mansion itself stood tall and proud in the center of the grounds. Looking at the lavish exterior, Hector wondered as to whom this place belonged. Whoever it was, they sure had deep pockets. The first thing his eyes were drawn to was not the gold and platinum embedded in the walls, nor the wide, opulent double door that served at the main entrance to the abode. No, it was the windows. The clear glass windows. He could count the number of times he'd seen glass windows in this world on one hand. Given that people could control fire and stone with their minds here, he'd thought that something like glass would have been a fairly common thing, but no. Clear glass was still an exorbitantly expensive material, especially pieces large enough to work as window panes.

Extravagance characterized the inside as well. Golden candelabras dotted the entrance hall. Rugs made of animal pelts lined the halls. Large portraits of various people hung on nearly every wall. Everything here felt like an exercise in wasteful overcompensation, and Hector was totally down for it. If you have the goods, you have to flaunt them.

"Captain Miranda?" asked a disbelieving voice. Hector looked over to find a face he recognized — standing in the hallway was the head aide for one of the generals he'd met before. Hector couldn't recall the man's name; admittedly, he had probably never bothered to ask.