B3 Chapter 19

They got back on the road with little fervor, considering how much trouble they’d found so far. From there on, their expectations weren’t bright, but surprisingly, they camped the night and marched in the morning without being molested.

By the afternoon, Lucan realized that they had drawn close to the city as the road grew finer, with broken and whole cobblestones here and there. They came upon a few crossroads where they met plenty of travellers and merchants, choosing not to trade words with any. And although they got some odd looks, no one seemed intent on questioning them with the road so crowded by more interesting travellers.

The closer they drew to the city, the more crowded it became, however. Now they walked with subdued caution, eying the caravan rolling ahead of them and the traveling laborers behind them carrying bundles at the ends of sticks on their shoulders.

The march grew slower and slower as the city walls came into sight. Lucan saw limestone walls that stretched wide enough to show a sizable city. Even if it was not as large as Arpague or Eldham, it was larger than his Silvergate, and perhaps comparable to or larger than Epiza. The walls were higher and better maintained, however. Lucan imagined that the guild masters of this city had enough coin to keep its walls shiny.

Their march came to a halt as they reached the gates, each party getting scrutinized by guards. Merchants, perhaps for proper dues–if there were any in such a city–and travellers for their intentions visiting the city.

Thankfully, Lucan and his men had their answers prepared. So their only quest for the moment was to wait.

They edged forward ever so slowly as the parties before them passed the guards’ scrutiny. Carriage by carriage was allowed through the city’s imposing gates. As they drew closer, Lucan saw a portcullis hanging over the heads of those passing through like a hangman’s axe. It seemed that the city considered safety a matter of utmost importance, which he could only judge as sensible, considering the lawlessness in the south and the number of beasts prowling the wilderness.

With time on hand, Lucan summoned his Blessing.

You have slain an Iron Human and absorbed part of their Vital Essence.

You have slain an Iron Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.

Again, he had not taken the next step, but he knew he was closer. He’d been edging closer since even before he’d returned from the Wilderlands.

Something dropped on his face, interrupting his thoughts. Then another and another, and then he felt the wetness. Soon, it was raining in earnest, and it seemed that that was cause enough for the guards to hasten with their work.

Before long, they were called for by one of the guards. Lucan observed three of them standing in front of the gate. The one who called them was the oldest, his hair a mess of gray and black. The other two were younger, perhaps Lucan’s age or a touch older. They stood behind their older peer with their sleeves rolled up. They were anything but prepared to defend the city, but Lucan imagined that their fellows inside were more than prepared should someone be foolish enough.

“From where do you lot fare?” the older guard said.

Ryder was quick to answer, “Bitis, good master.”

“And what brings you to Varencourt?”

“We’re looking to earn fair coin for fair work, good master,” Ryder said. Then he gestured at Tomis. “And our friend there is going through his rites. He must bring back a tale worthy of his clan before he returns to our homeland.”

The guard looked between them, his eyes searching theirs for any lies…of which there were plenty to be hidden. Thankfully, however, he didn’t seem keen enough to spot them.

He eyed Tomis’s bowstaff and their sheathed blades though. “Only adventurers, chartered mercenaries, and those given a writ by the council are allowed to carry arms within the city.”

Lucan decided to speak then. “Well, friend, may we not become adventurers ourselves in our pursuit of honest work?” He then nodded at Ryder, who palmed a few copper coins and slipped them into the man’s hand.

The guard glanced between them one more time before saying, “Inside the walls, you better keep those blades sheathed and that bow unstrung, or else…”

“Of course, good master,” Ryder was quick to say.

“You will be searched still.” The old guard gestured at his two younger subordinates. “If you have no illicit goods hidden on you, then you may enter.”

“Thank you,” Lucan said.

After a brief search, during which the younger guards looked inside their pouches for hidden goods—whatever such goods that could be hidden in pouches were—and under their tunics for hidden pouches, they were allowed inside.

Lucan led Tomis through the main thoroughfare as Ryder disappeared to listen for word on the streets and find them a proper inn. They walked through the press of bodies, eying orderly houses on both sides, foundations made of brick and walls of strong timber. The townsfolk also seemed healthy enough. Perhaps kings were right to worry, for the Union did well for itself even with the onslaught of beasts that they had to face…though Varencourt was in truth in the safer parts of the Union, considering it was somewhat near to the Elder Root west of Lucan’s estate.

They soon reached the market, which was in the middle of this city quarter, and stopped there to watch. A bell rang upon their arrival, and Lucan saw a small tower erected in the middle of the market with the ringing bell on top. He raised a brow and looked at Tomis, who shrugged with similar ignorance.

It took Ryder a time to return, during which Lucan watched the lively market of Varencourt. There were stalls spread out, but not standing too far apart. Merchants hawked their wares, and he saw some breadth of land for some of the wealthier merchants to handle their affairs. At the edges of the market, there were large, somewhat ornate buildings that housed several opulent shops.

When Ryder found them at last, Lucan’s feet had begun to ache from standing there, and they’d already received a few suspicious glances from the market guards. Thankfully, the rain had stopped a while before, sparing them from being thoroughly soaked.

“Word?” Lucan asked.

“The city is thriving!” Ryder said with a false grin. Then he leaned in with a whisper. “Though there has been a string of grisly murders, a struggle between gangs, and the local folk seem enthralled by dungeons for some reason.”

Lucan looked at the bell tower meaningfully then at his man-at-arms.

“Ah, that would be the time bell,” Ryder said. “It rings four times per light. Once at sunset, twice when it’s a quarter of the way to noon, thrice at midmorn, four times at quarter to noon, then once again at noon, upon which it begins another cycle from noon to sunset.”

“Huh.” Lucan rubbed his chin. “Does it ring after dark?”

“Only twice, halfway to midnight and at midnight,” Ryder said. “They say the rings are muffled by cloth after dark, however.”

“Uncanny but inspired,” Lucan said, entranced by the tower.

“I have also found us an inn.”

Lucan nodded absentmindedly. After a moment, he nodded again. “Let us go to this inn then.”

Ryder led them through the ever-encroaching crowd of men and women, diving into a large spur street then into a backway that eventually opened into another wide street. At the end of it, there was a large structure of bleached timber, narrower at the base than it was upstairs. Dark wooden beams supported the upper floor. A plaque hung from one of the beams, a plateful of food and a full frothy tankard carved into and painted on it.

Ryder dipped his head towards the door, leading them towards it. Once they pushed the door open, heat and odour hit them at the same time. Lucan smelled ale, food, and sweat.

A dozen tables spread out in the common room, half of them filled with patrons. Wooden tankards clanked against tables or against other tankards, and a dozen men spoke over each other, their voices neither too loud nor too quiet. There was a liveliness to the room that made it likable to Lucan’s sensibilities in spite of his prejudices.

On the other end of the room, there was a counter, behind which stood a potbellied man trying to wedge a small stave of a broken tankard back into place. Without much preamble, Lucan led his two men towards him.

The potbellied man threw the tankard to the side with a look of disgust then brought his attention to them. Although he looked mild from a distance, Lucan observed him to be a giant of a man, his bald head a crown upon his girth, though a splotch marred it, perhaps a birthmark.

“Welcome, good masters,” the innkeep said. “I am at your service.”

Lucan and Ryder leaned on the counter while Tomis watched the rest of the inn as though an assassin might spawn on one of the tables.

“Good man,” Lucan said. “May we have some of your fine ale?”

“Well, of course!” the innkeep grinned with apparent good nature and turned around to prepare their drinks, picking up three of his healthier tankards and finding a full cask from which to pour.

Lucan glanced at Ryder, who shrugged reassuringly. Then the innkeep was back with their full tankards. Tomis still didn’t turn around to receive his, though Lucan and Ryder picked up theirs, sipping them without moving.

The innkeep eyed them curiously when he realized they wouldn’t take their tankards back to a table. “Shall my inn provide more for you, good masters? A warm meal, perhaps?”

Lucan softly canted his head to one side, gesturing with a hand. “We may wish to take one of your rooms for three nights.”

“Ah, of course,” the man grinned again. “I have the finest rooms in Varencourt. A room for each then? I ca–”

Ryder was quick to interrupt him. “No, a room for three.”

The innkeep frowned. “I am afraid I don’t have a room with more than two beds, good master.”

“Then one of us will sleep on the floorboards,” Ryder said decisively.

With a doubtful look, the man said, “You must still pay for the stay of three. I care not whether you sleep on a bed or stick to the walls. You will still get shelter and supper.”

“That is fair,” Lucan said before Ryder could protest.

“Good.” The innkeep regained his jovial manner. “Three silvers for the room, and a copper for the ales.”

Ryder rapped the counter and shook his head, this time before Lucan could get ahead of him. “Now, now, that is too much.”

“It is fair,” the innkeep said. “You may ask elsewhere.”

“Should we ask and find cheaper establishments, then we will not be returning to your inn.”

The innkeep glared at Ryder, and the man-at-arms held his glare steadily.

“Tsch.” The innkeep shook his head. “Two silvers and eight coppers.”

“How many coppers in a silver around here?”

“Twelve,” the man said. “It was once thirteen, but since they found those two damn silver mines in the same year, it has been changing.” He sighed.

“Then we will give you two silvers and five coppers.”

“Seven.”

“Six.”

At that, the innkeep showed his agreement by extending a beckoning hand above the counter.

Lucan took out two silvers and six coppers, putting them in the man’s hand.

“And the ales?”

Ryder took out three copper bits and slid them across the counter.

The innkeep pushed the bits back. “It was good ale. I will not take this.”

Ryder huffed and pocketed the bits, taking out a copper coin instead and setting it on the counter.

The man accepted it, but before leading them to their rooms, he asked, “Where do you folk come from?”

“Bitis,” Lucan answered.

“Huh.” The innkeep tilted his head. “You don’t look sunkissed enough, I’ll say.”

At that, Tomis turned around at last. “We have stopped living in the grass many years ago, innkeep.”

“Huts now, then?”

Tomis only fixed him with a withering glare that silenced the man at long last. After that, he showed them their rooms with surprising quietness.