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A Soldier's Life - 239 - Sherlocking

Added 2024-08-01 15:40:16 +0000 UTC

Chapter 239: Sherlocking

I passed many farms that were starting their spring planting and didn’t receive many curious looks. The road from Vartaholme that I was on was probably well traveled. Ogala, like many cities in the Telhian Empire, had its own personality from once being part of a kingdom that the First Legion had conquered. As I approached, Ogala was much larger than I would have guessed. A long swath of houses dotted the landscape outside the city walls.

These people had not been affected by the summoned hostile weather and monsters and were thriving. The outer city walls were sandstone and under twenty feet in height. I slowed as a number of green soldiers in oversized uniforms were drilling outside the walls. The men drilling them looked over at my suspiciously.

I slowly added a strong limp to my gait as I approached and turned into a small tavern before reaching the city gates. The musk of the working man permeated the small watering hole. Two old men sat at a table drinking, the only patrons. I sat at their table and called for an ale. “Can I get an ale for me and my friends?” I asked the barkeep.

As the barkeep filled the mugs, the two old men nodded thanks, “I will be your friend for a cup. But my friendship only lasts as long as there is ale in it,” he said jokingly.

The other man, who was missing most of his teeth and hair, agreed, “Same here. What are you running from? The press-gang?”

I had been right. The young men drilling were being pressed into a militia. I shook my head, “No. I shattered my leg two years back. Now, I am traveling from city to city for my baron, looking for trade opportunities. If I make him enough, he promised to pay for a healer for my leg.” I offered a strained but friendly smile. “The famine in the north has been quite profitable for him.”

The ale arrived, and the first old man downed half his mug in a long, satisfied pull as I paid three copper for the drinks and added three more for a second round. “Not much left here. Most of the crafters who could afford to loaded their wagons and headed north. They say this goblin horde is going to be the worst in a decade.” I nodded as that told me the boys drilling formations were preparing for goblins and not being sent to fight the Bartiradians, Elves, or Orcs. The ale tasted like warm piss, and I put down my mug, hiding my distaste.

“Any news of the war? Have the elves been crushed and the orc armada sunk?” I asked and called for food for my companions. Based on the ale, I didn’t think this tavern would have good fare, but I wanted to keep them talking.

The toothless man answered, “We don’t hear much but I heard the elves landed and haven’t advanced an inch on Telhian soil. No word of the orcs sailing. Can’t see those two peoples mixing to fight against the Emperor’s legion.” I nodded but it appeared my hope for truthful news was not going to be met here. At least I learned about the press-gangs in every Empire city to levy men for the numerous war fronts. I accidently sipped again and regretted it.

“What word of the goblin horde? Has it left the Dragon Spine?” I asked, and the two men looked at each other, deciding who would answer my question. Our second round was served with oily potatoes and dry steak, and the bald one answered my question.

“My nephew was up from Vartaholme last week. Told my brother the Emperor has not sent a single mage company to reinforce the city. Just child mages who probably haven’t even had their first fuck.” There was some vehemence in his voice. “The last time they ignored the horde threat, ten thousand people died.”

I sat back and nodded in agreement. Flavius had told me his family had died during a goblin surge from the Endless Dark. I guessed news would reach Ogala soon about the orcs attacking Varvao. I left a large copper for the food on the table as I stood.

The toothless man gave me some advice as I left, “Make sure you mention to any guards which Baron you work for. Any boy or man with idle hands is being fitted with a cuirass and handed a spear and shield.” I nodded in thanks, but calling the armor those boys drilling a cuirass was awfully generous. Soft leather vest was a better term.

I maintained a limp as I approached the city walls. The old men were right. As I tried to pass through one of the gates, I was asked twenty questions about my business, and to speed things along, I handed the guard Captain four silver, two for him and one for each of his men. It got me passage into the city and I was sure it would cost me the same when I exited to avoid .

Ogala was much livlier than I thought it should be, with the potential of a goblin horde nearby. Then again, Vartaholme was a buffer to them reaching here. The normal bustle of city folk rushing about was present, and I walked by the local Legion Hall. Through the doors, I only spotted a handful of legionnaires. There were so few, and there might not even be a company mage stationed here. In the city squares, more militia were being drilled. Some of the boys looked to be having trouble holding the heavy reinforced body shield and wielding the spear in the other hand.

I reached the upper city, although calling it ‘upper’ was a misnomer as the entire city was on flat land. It was the wealthier district that had the better bathhouses, which is why I was here. I selected a private bathhouse, paid my silver coins, and luxuriated for an hour before dressing and securing a room in one of the better inns.

I ate dinner in the common room of the Vesta’s Respite and listened to conversations. I was mostly shocked to hear no one was talking about the orc fleet. I figured the rumor mill of the upper city would have heard something by now. When I left the orc armada six days ago, they were only a day’s sail from Varvao. The attack must have surely begun by now.

The news of the Elves was less filtered. Rumors were flying about the Emperor riding out to meet the Elven advance. The Elves taking this city or that city with the person across the table disagreeing with the facts. If Zyna’s message was true, then the elves had been thwarted and turned back for the moment.

Near Macha, Duke Tiberius was noted as being in a pitched battle with the Bartiradians daily. He should have been reinforcing Varvao by now; at least, that is what Centurion Sergius had told me. The fog of war might have been reserved for the battlefield, but it permeated the rumor mill as well.

I made my way to my room and slept three hours to gain a full rest before dropping out the window, scaling the outer wall, and dropping to the ground with the aid of a pair of air shields. I decided I didn’t want to risk being pressed into the militia—been there, done that.

In an old barn north of the city, I paused and soaked a sock in my blood, sealing it in a jar with preservation powder before burying it in a composting pile. This was another distraction if the Hounds decided to track me. I figured the Hounds had much more important things to do than confirm I was dead. I planned to be out of the Empire with Maveith before the war settled. If Zyna and Castile were successful, and the Emperor slain, I no one should care I was gone.

The primary road to Sagren went north and then west. There was a lesser-trodden road that headed northeast, directly to the city. I could tell by the blood compass that I was closing in on Corvus’s location, so I took this less-traveled road at night. Cultivated farmland lined the road as I walked alone, my sandals crunching on the stones underneath.

We had practiced some disguise skills with the Hounds and most of those skills were useless in my present circumstances, because if I tried to look like a beggar or plebian, I risked being swept up by the press gangs. The farms remained a fixture all way to Sagren, which I reached after midday. An army cavalry unit was drilling outside the city walls, and from a distance, I could tell most of the horses were not battle-trained. They didn’t trust their riders and were skittish at loud noises. I began to worry that Ginger may have been conscripted back into the Legion.

Sagren had an ancient feel to it. Buildings constructed of weather-aged stone jutted above the city walls with embellishments and gargoyles adorning their ledges. The city itself was much smaller than Ogala and I guessed there to be less than ten-thousand people inside the walls. The pull on the blood compass strengthened every few steps.

Two city guards were questioning everyone entering the city. “Ears,” he said sharply to me when it was my turn.

“Ears!” he barked impatiently. “Remove your hat.” I complied and guessed they were looking for looking for elves. He brushed aside my hair with his foul-smelling hand to check closer. “Name and your business in Ogala?”

“Lucien Paulus,” I used the old horse master’s name. “I am returning to Lorvo after completing trade business in Vartaholme for my baron.”

He looked up, confused. “Are you traveling alone?”

Yes, no one traveled the roads alone in the Empire. But I had a response ready, “My trade caravan is headed to Aganta and will pass through here on the way back to Lorvo. They should arrive in three days, and I wanted time to partake of your local offerings.” I gave my best hedonistic smile. “What is the best place to stay in Sagren for such proclivities?” I said while handing him a silver.

He grunted, palming the silver, “Heard the selection at The Affable Lips has expanded recently with some comely refugees. Too pricy for me, though.” I nodded enthusiastically. The guards moved aside to let me in and never asked the name of my baron. I could imagine Adrian scolding the man for doing such a poor job.

I tightened my cap to hide my hair and moved into the city. It was always easy to tell where the richer parts of the city were by the flow of people. My hand tightened over the compass, and not surprisingly, it pulled me toward the Citadel. I had thought the secret Archives would be in the middle of the woods—or just anywhere more secret—not one of the city’s of the Empire. As I approached the Citadel, the compass started to turn in my hands, the pull getting stronger but not towards the Citadel.

I was confused as I fumbled with the blood compass in my pocket. Then I figured it out, the compass was pointing down. I pretended to scratch my foot, briefly removing my sandal to put my bare foot on the stone paver. I expected to find Corvus slopping through the sewers. Instead, the earth pulse returned a maze of deep tunnels under the city, just beneath the simple sewer system. I was shocked by the extent to which my pulse had extended, it was almost fifty feet after the bulette earth essence. What I saw was just the upper levels of something much more vast—an ancient construction by the feel of the pulse. Something that had been resting for hundreds of years.

I started to make my way around the upper city, mapping the upper levels of the tunnels as I went and looking for an access point. Many of the tunnels had been sealed where they accessed the cellars of structures in the city. I finally found an open access point in a small shrine dedicated to Juno, the Roman goddess of marriage.

The Telhians didn’t truly worship old Roman gods, but it was common to have small temples and shrines where the people could ask for favors from a particular divine aspect. I found a tavern within the sight of the shrine and ordered an early dinner. While I ate, I watched the temple closely.

A couple entered to have their marriage blessed—or maybe their coupling for the evening in hopes of a child. A desperate man rushed in crying and soon exited, still looking distraught. Then, an acolyte of Juno entered. Even under his off-blue robes, I could tell by his stride and powerfully muscled neck that this man was a warrior and not a priest.

I left my half-finished diner to walk by the shrine and paused to lean against the outer wall. The acolyte talked with another in the temple for a time before continuing further into the shrine. I watched through pulses as the acolyte entered a secret room and descended the stairs. He quickly descended past the range of my earth speak pulses. Corvus was still beneath me as well, and I was fairly certain that I had found the secondary Archives.