The Hammer and the Anvil: An Elder Scrolls Novel
Greg J Miller
~O~
Chapter 4
Middas the 3rd of First Seed 4E49
A short while after sunrise, Malcolm Forester emerged from his rented room at the Gottshaw Inn. He was already dressed and ready to head off. Thinking to himself, he'd decided he was glad that the rooms were rather better than the food at that inn. He was generally accustomed to something a little better, but at least it was clean and tidy. His opinion of the bathroom facilities upon the lower level was a little less generous. Still, he imagined that few travellers stayed at the place for more than a single night. That was fairly reflected in the overall quality of the amenities. The inn certainly looked more appealing from the outside.
Forester made his way downstairs to the main level. A Legion soldier was just coming in the front door as Forester was headed for the tavern area. The soldier had obviously been out on evening patrol, and was stopping at the inn for a break. The two men exchanged polite greetings as they both headed along the short hall.
In the tavern, Forester had found Rena Maplewood by the southern wall, sitting at a table with a drink. Forester raised his eyebrows, glancing at her mug.
"It's only apple juice." Rena protested.
"Of course. Uh… good morning to you." Forester remained standing.
"Yeah… good morning." Rena looked up over her mug, taking a sip of juice.
Forester glanced back toward the service bar. "I wonder what the barkeep might have available this morning?" He hadn't been that pleased with the stew on offer the previous evening. He'd eaten most it, but he hadn't enjoyed it.
Rena shrugged. "I'm not usually that hungry in the mornings." She took another sip.
Forester just nodded and stepped over toward the bar to see what was on offer. He dallied a little as he spoke with the balding Breton man at the counter. He'd already forgotten the man's name. He didn't like the look of any of the baked offerings. He certainly didn't want to consider what was simmering in that pot behind the bar. It seemed the wiser choice to just settle for a red apple and some water. He wasn't even that sure about the water.
Forester returned to sit at the table with Maplewood. Judging from the sunlight coming in through the windows, it must have been after seven.
Rena finished off the last of her drink. "So, when was the last time you were out at Anvil?"
After taking a sip of water, Forester paused briefly to consider, smoothing his goatee beard. "Well, it must be at least a couple of years, I should think." He decided to try the apple.
Rena nodded. "About the same for me." She pushed her empty mug aside. "What about Hammerfell?"
"Mmm." Forester waited until he had finished chewing on the bite of his apple. "I've been to Rihad before, but never further than that."
"I've never been into Hammerfell at all."
"Mmm." Forester acknowledged with a nod, chewing on his apple.
Rena was looking at the window. She couldn't actually see outside. It wasn't that kind of glass. "I'd expect that Sentinel must be a fair way off. It must take at least a week to get there by ship."
"Mmm." Forester agreed, nodding as he chewed on another mouthful.
Rena decided to be quiet for a short time. It looked like Forester might be a while with that apple if she kept him talking. He did seem to be a rather slow eater. She had noticed the same thing the previous evening with that stew. She'd just thought it was because it was so unappealing. However, he was making that piece of fruit look like a full meal. She briefly considered suggesting that he just eat it on the way, but waited politely instead.
Before too long, Forester and Maplewood had left the Gottshaw Inn behind and were heading off along The Gold Road for Anvil. It was nowhere near the distance from Skingrad to Kvatch. Even at a modest pace, they expected to arrive at the coastal city during the afternoon.
It looked to be shaping up like another fine and clear day. The promise of spring seemed even more evident than the day before. It had been another notably quiet morning along the road.
They had travelled a few leagues before encountering a slow moving Legion rider plodding along just near the Brina Cross Inn. A brief exchanged passed. The Legion soldier offered the usual platitudes and advised that the roads were clear behind him to the west.
Just as they were passing by that roadside inn, Maplewood spoke up. "So, ah… Forester, you and Taimar. Are you two…?"
"Ah, no." Forester chuckled mildly. "No. Nothing like that."
Rena nodded slowly, watching the road ahead.
Forester expanded. "I've known Taimar since she first came to the Guildhall at Skingrad. She's a good friend." After a pause, he continued. "Guild business can be dangerous enough. I'd hate to think that something has happened to her."
"Yeah." Rena nodded again. She seemed to wrestle with a notion for a short moment before speaking again. "I thought you had a wife in Kvatch?"
"Former wife." He emphasised 'former'. "How do you know about that?"
Rena shrugged. "People talk. I'd heard there was a woman over on Boldon Street."
Forester kept his gaze upon the road. "Yes, well. That was a long time ago."
"And her boy?"
"My son, Mattias." Forester's expression appeared grim. "I'm afraid, Raesa won't let me see him. I haven't spoken with him since he was just four."
Rena shook her head. "Sounds harsh."
Forester maintained a stern visage. "Well, there's nothing much I can do about it."
Rena allowed the matter to drop. They continued onward in silence for a time.
About another league or so further along, the road began to gradually curve around toward the south. As indicated by the sign, a lesser road turned off to the right, leading to the farmlands of the old Drad Estate. It was fairly common knowledge that the elderly Dunmer couple that lived in the manor had tried running slave labour decades earlier. That was one Morrowind custom that was not tolerated in Cyrodiil. It hadn't been for centuries. The Drad's still held the manor, but the farms had long since been surrendered to a couple of local Colovian families.
Not all that long past midday, Forester and Maplewood had crested that last rise along The Gold Road, revealing the final downhill run toward Anvil. Through the trees, the tall stone walls of the city came into view with its rounded towers. One of those towers was probably the harbourside lighthouse. From that distance, the lighthouse didn't really stand out unless it was night time. The spires atop the tower of the Great Chapel of Dibella stood out well enough above the other rooftops of the city. The upper walls and towers of Castle Anvil could just be seen on the far side of the city. It was still at least two leagues to the city gates, but it was all downhill from that point.
Before too long, they found themselves passing the farms outside of Anvil. Two smaller farms were located by the western side of the road. On the left, the old Whitmond Farm was just up the hill a short distance north of the city.
Near the main gates at the north of the city, the main stabling facilities were situated on the right. The local office of the Imperial Trading Company was just across the road on the left, with the warehouse just next to that.
The smell of the salty sea air wafted by on the light breeze. Another less pleasant smell wafted by from the stables. Dodging the horse shit just outside the stable yard, they approached the main gates of Anvil. After a brief chat with the guard, they stepped through the gated doors into the city.
Inside the main gates of Anvil, Forester and Maplewood entered the Guildgate Plaza area. A few people sat upon the shaded benches at the centre of the plaza. There were a couple of open street stalls over near the pond with the statue of the mermaid. Just a few more people wandered along Guild Street. It looked a bit busier up along Westgate Street to the right.
Forester had stopped by the shady trees of the plaza.
Maplewood turned to check what he was planning. "So then, where to first?"
Forester cleared his throat. "Well, I thought you wanted to visit the Guildhall?"
"Yeah, but what about checking on the port?"
Forester indicated the Guildhall just across the far side of Guildgate Plaza. "Well, the Fighter's Guild is just there."
"Yeah. All right, then." Maplewood agreed easily enough.
They headed across the plaza over to the front doors of the Anvil Fighter's Guild and stepped inside. The main indoor training area was just beyond the entryway to the Guildhall. A fierce looking Orsimer was engaged in the instruction of a younger Imperial lad.
Forester remembered the Orc. His name was Garak gro-Uzgar. He didn't recognise the younger man. He must have been new. A Breton woman wearing chainmail observed the training session from the side. He wasn't certain that he remembered her name. He thought that it might be either Claudia or Claudette, or something like that.
An armoured Imperial man appeared from the doorway to the left. "Guild Porter Xander Langely at your service. How may I help you."
"Well, yes. Malcolm Forester. Out of the Skingrad Guildhall."
Langley squinted mildly. "Forester. I've seen you before." He glanced at Maplewood.
"Rena Maplewood. Out of Kvatch."
"Maplewood." The porter nodded with a vague sense of recognition.
Forester spoke again. "Well, I expect we should probably see the Guild Head. Is Llaram still in charge?"
"That's right." Langley affirmed. "If you'd like to wait down here, I'll go upstairs and see if she's free."
"Of course." Forester nodded.
The Guild Porter ducked off out of sight, leaving Forester and Maplewood where they stood. They casually observed the training for a few moments. From the look of it, that younger Imperial lad was either a recruit or only just first rank. The Orsimer appeared to be managing an uncommon measure of patience with his charge. Judging from her expression, it seemed that the Breton woman was struggling to refrain from offering comment from the sidelines.
The porter had returned fairly quickly. "Guild Head Llaram is free to see you. Shall I escort you up the office?"
Forester responded. "Thank you, but it's really not necessary. We know the way."
Langley returned a sharp nod and stepped aside.
Forester and Maplewood made their way for the stairs to the upper levels. As they passed through the dining area upon the second level, a gruff male voice called out.
"Maplewood?"
A tall Nord stepped out from behind the stone column in the middle of the room. His light coloured mane hung down past his broad shoulders. He held a half-eaten leg of turkey in his large hand.
Rena turned to face the Nord. "Hamlof."
"S'that… uh, Forester?"
Rena glanced at Forester. "You know Hamlof?"
"Well, we've met." Forester's admission sounded slightly less than enthused.
Hamlof grinned at Rena, then shifted his glance back to Forester. "I heard you was in Kvatch a few months back when I was there. We musta missed each other."
Forester maintained an even tone. "So it seems." He had actually noticed Hamlof sitting in the tavern at the Survivor's Inn one evening. The big Nord was well intoxicated at the time. Forester had actually made a point of avoiding him as he headed directly for his rented room.
Hamlof glanced at each of them in turn. "What you doin' in Anvil?"
Rena spoke first. "Just passing through, sort of."
"Right now, we're just going up to see Llaram." Forester added.
"Oh yeah? I better not hold ya up, then." Hamlof pointed toward the stairs with his turkey leg.
Forester seemed glad that Hamlof hadn't tried to keep them any longer. They turned away and continued onward to the upper level. The door to the office was open. The Dunmer Guild Head was sitting behind her large oak desk, contemplating an ornate jewelled necklace that she held. Noticing the two Guild Fighters, she put the object down upon the desk and waved them in.
"Come on in. Take a seat." Llaram indicated the chairs in front of her desk.
Llensi Llaram had been the head of the Anvil Guildhall for as long as Forester could recall. From his understanding, she had held that position for decades. He imagined that she had to be in her seventies or eighties. Of course, that would be quite old for a human, but not so much for a Dunmer. Her gray skin was a little lighter in colour than some of her people. She kept her brownish hair cropped short. Her piercing red eyes seemed like that of a much younger woman.
Once the Guild Fighters had taken their seats, Llaram resumed. "So then, what brings you two to Anvil?"
Forester mildly cleared his throat. "Well, for the most part, I am just checking in. I expect to be here only for a few days, before catching a ship to visit a friend in Hammerfell."
Llaram digested his offering, shifting her glance to Maplewood.
Rena recognised the invitation. "Uh yeah, unless there's any work on, I'll probably be heading off with Forester."
Llaram sat with her elbows on the desk and her fingers forming a steeple. "At the moment, there's not that much going at all. We had some trouble with wildcats at the farms last week. We sorted out some smugglers down by the mouth of the Strid a few weeks before. I can't see much else, right now." Her hands waved outward in a vague gesture.
The Guild Head slumped back in her chair. Her expression reflected the tone of reminiscence in her voice. "You know, I remember the lean times during the Stormcrown Interregnum. Well, lean for us." She paused a beat. "After the assassination of Ocato, there were only three of us here. I'm the only one left from back then. This Guildhall was really only kept going by the Countess. She was a good one." Llaram paused at length. She stared off to the side, looking at a portrait that hung upon the partition hiding her sleeping quarters.
Forester recalled that it had been much the same in both Chorrol and Skingrad during those times. Those Guildhalls had only survived upon the meagre funds provided by the local County. There was no Empire to sponsor the Guild. As he understood it, the Fighter's Guild of Kvatch had only kept going as part of the City Guard. Of course, there had been no Guild presence at all in Bravil or Leyawiin during that period. That circumstance had not changed until after Titus Mede had become Emperor, and he had managed to pull all of Cyrodiil back together under unified rule.
Maplewood broke the prolonged silence. "I'm actually leaving Kvatch. I'll be looking for another Guildhall."
Llaram recognised the inference. She shook her head slightly. "I'm afraid, there are no vacancies here at the moment. I'm actually concerned I might lose someone if things don't pick up again soon. I'm not sure I can even justify the recruit."
Rena didn't seem all that disappointed. She was already expecting that response.
Llaram gestured with her hands. "Of course, as always, you're welcome to use the facilities of the Guildhall. Training, meals and so on. If you need a bunk, Langely can help with that."
"Of course." Forester agreed.
Maplewood just offered a silent nod.
After a moment, Llaram had dismissed them. They politely returned brief farewells before leaving her office behind.
Hamlof had again intercepted them on the second level. This time, without a turkey leg. That had been replaced by a mug of ale. He had again grinned at Rena, before addressing Forester. "Hey, I saw Frederick over here last month. Frederick the Loud."
Of course, Frederick the Loud was a mutual acquaintance. The huge Nord operated out of Bruma, but he did tend to get around. Anyone that knew him could hardly forget him. He certainly lived up to his name.
Hamlof didn't wait for a response. "Yeah, Frederick was visiting his cousin. She works down at the docks. He was goin' on about some magic ring he has. Reckons it makes him quiet." Hamlof chuckled mildly.
Forester resisted offering comment. "Yes well, we actually need to get down to the port to see someone."
"Oh, awright then. You comin' back to the Guildhall?"
"Maybe later." Rena answered.
"Might see you then?" Hamlof took a swig of his ale.
The two Guild Fighters each returned a quick nod to the Nord and then turned to make their way back downstairs.
Forester and Maplewood returned to the streets of Anvil. Forester pointed to the left and they started off in that direction. They passed the College of Whispers just next to the Guildhall and then made their way up past the houses along Westgate Street.
Forester gave Maplewood a short glance. He released a breath before speaking. "Is there ah… is there something between you and Hamlof?"
"What?" Rena laughed as she said it. She glanced to Forester. "No. There isn't."
Forester looked a little awkward. "Well, he ah… he does seem ah… Well, I think he might be a little sweet on you."
Rena chuckled again. "Well, yeah. He might be. Doesn't matter. He's not my type."
Forester thought it better to leave that alone.
In relative silence, they passed by the Count's Arms and through the lightly crowded square at the bend in Westgate Street. There were just a couple of open stalls operated by street vendors at Westgate Square. There wasn't really space for more than that.
They had soon arrived at the south-western corner of the city and passed through the gated doors to the Anvil Harbourside.
There were at least two things that always struck the senses by those docks. The first was the strong salty smell carried upon the sea breeze. It was rather subdued behind those tall city walls, more so than outside on the docks. The second thing was the noise coming from the screeching gulls.
There were two vessels at the docks of the main harbour. One looked like a trading ship. The other was a larger fishing vessel. That was part of the reason that the gulls were even noisier than usual. Away from the docks, there was also an Imperial Naval vessel anchored offshore in the open part of the harbour.
Most of Anvil harbour was framed by a small peninsular of land that curved around the south of the docks. It cradled the harbour like a great arm sheltering the bay from the Abecean Sea. Upon the hillside at the end of that peninsular, the tall tower of the lighthouse rose up above the harbour.
Castle Anvil dominated the small island to the east of the harbour. A stone bridge crossed the channel from the gated doors near the south-eastern corner of the main city. That bridge provided the only direct access to the castle.
That afternoon, most of the activity of the harbourside seemed centred upon the fishing vessel and the catch. Two sailors stood on the deck of the fishing boat waving oars to ward off the plague of seagulls.
Forester and Maplewood headed along the docks to the left. They passed by the Flowing Bowl and the general store, arriving at the Harbourside Warehouse.
Inside the ramshackle warehouse, they were greeted by the burly Portmaster. He was an older Nord by the name of Hans Hareldsen. It was fair to assume that his name was an Imperial affectation. After all, there were probably more than a few Nords by the name of Hans in the area. He wore his gray bushy beard tied in a braid at the end. His moustache also ended in twin braids. By contrast, he had very little hair on the top of his head.
Forester had made inquiries into the possibility of booking passage upon trading vessels headed for Iliac Bay. The Portmaster was only somewhat helpful. He'd advised that a ship was due into port on Turdas or Fredas. He understood that it should be heading west on Loredas. He couldn't say whether it would be able to take on passengers. He could tell only them that they should come back when the ship was in port.
Forester seemed mildly irked as they returned to the dockside. He stared at the accumulation of bird droppings about the lamppost in front of him for a moment.
Maplewood spoke up. "He didn't seem that helpful. I thought the Portmaster was meant to take bookings."
Forester rubbed his beard. "Well, I suppose that he might not know just yet. At least, that what he indicated." He paused, looking at the activity on the fishing boat. "Looks like we might need to wait another two or three days."
"He said the ship might be in tomorrow."
Forester turned back to Maplewood. "Of course. It might pay to come back tomorrow afternoon and try again."
Rena looked toward the western sky. "Yeah. It must be after four. Where are we going? Back to the Guildhall?"
Forester cleared his throat. "Well, actually I would prefer staying at an inn."
Rena glanced about. There were two inns in the Harbourside District. Neither of them were particularly appealing places.
Forester's expression clearly reflected his distaste. "No, not those places along the docks. I'd much prefer to stay at the Count's Arms."
"The Count's Arms?" Rena repeated, raising her eyebrows. "You do have expensive tastes."
Forester tilted his head. "Well… it's not that. I'd just prefer to be comfortable, if such a thing were available. If the expense is an issue…"
"No, no." Rena cut him off. "I'm good with that."
"Of course." Forester agreed.
Rena indicated the direction they'd previously come from. "We'd better get moving to see if they've got any rooms over there."
Forester nodded his agreement and they headed along the docks, back toward the western city gates.
Just as planned, Monika and Alex had set off from Skingrad with the dawn. Despite the early hour, a few of the workers were already heading over to the Surilie Brothers Vineyards. One weary Legion rider was coming in from evening patrol as another was heading out. The only other person about was the stable hand tending the horses in the stable yard.
Once Alex and Monika had passed the vineyards and farms about the north of the city, the open road lay ahead. They hadn't encountered anyone along the road until a fast moving courier had passed by on horseback, headed westward. By that time, they had just about left the reach of County Skingrad by Monika's reckoning.
A few leagues further along they passed a small road off the right. The road sign said it led to Shetcombe. Monika told Alex it was a small farming settlement. Through the trees of the lightly wooded hillside, it was there that they caught the first glimpse of the stone walls atop the tall hill that dominated that region. Monika had confirmed that it was Kvatch.
"I thought it would be much further." Alex sounded a little confused. He had been expecting the journey to take all day. It was only just coming up on midday.
Monika clarified. "It's a bit further than it looks. The road up there is over the other side." She nodded to the road directly ahead. "The Gold Road swings around to the south for a fair way."
Alex just accepted that advice, straining to see more through the trees.
After another half-hour, they stopped by the roadside for a rest and to have something to eat. Another slow moving Legion rider had ambled past them as they sat by the road. He was headed eastward. He stopped briefly to exchange a friendly greeting. He'd commented upon the pleasant day and advised that the road was clear of trouble behind him, before continuing on his way. Before long, Monika and Alex had also resumed their journey.
As they marched along the road, Alex kept looking up toward the high hilltop where Kvatch was situated. The way the road swung around, it seemed to never grow any closer. He couldn't tell if the city was really large or whether it just seemed that way.
Alex gave voice to his pondering. "Just how big is Kvatch?"
Monika responded casually. "Probably about the same size as Chorrol. Not as many people there, though." She paused. "The place got wiped out back in the Oblivion Crisis. The stone walls, the temple and some old stone buildings survived. It's all been rebuilt now. From the look of it, you'd hardly know it happened."
"What about the…?"
"Shush." Monika interrupted, tugging his arm to bring him to a halt.
She directed his attention toward the road ahead. There was a mountain lion with two cubs standing by the left-hand side of the road up ahead. Alex glanced to Monika. She kept her eyes upon the potential threat.
Alex whispered. "Should we…?"
Monika returned the whisper. "Just wait."
The big cat sniffed the air. It wasn't yet clear whether she was aware of their presence. The cubs were less than half her size. They couldn't have been all that old. The lion was the main threat, even more so with the cubs at her side.
Alex had noted that Monika hadn't yet drawn a weapon. He whispered again. "Should I test my uh… last resort?"
Monika glared at him harshly. She mouthed the word, 'No'.
Alex instantly regretted making the suggestion, feeling a little stupid.
Monika quietly slipped her shield down from her shoulder and into position, then drew her light mace. Alex mirrored her actions with his shield and sword. He waited for her signal to act. He was a little uncertain of what she planned. Given the distance, he had thought that the bow might have been a better idea.
After a moment of pause, Monika bashed her mace against her shield and yelled out loudly. Alex was certainly surprised. The big cat seemed equally startled. Monika continued the noisy display. The lion crouched, adopting a defensive stance, possibly preparing to launch an attack. The cubs had responded differently, taking flight and bolting off away from the road, downhill to the south. After a brief moment of holding her ground, the big cat turned and ran off after the cubs.
Monika released a long breath, then holstered her mace. Alex hesitated a moment as Monika fumbled with returning her shield to her shoulder. Finally satisfied that the lion was not returning Alex sheathed his Elven sword. He was still getting used to the lighter weight of that blade. It was very much like the one he'd lost when he firstly left Falkreath, the one that he had inherited from Grandfather Erik. When he first saw that blade at the blacksmith's in Chorrol, he thought that it actually was his grandfather's old sword. As it turned out, it only looked like the same blade. Nonetheless, he had quickly decided to trade his Dwarven metal blade and purchase that Elven sword. It wasn't Grandfather Erik's blade, but in his mind, it seemed like the next best thing.
"Last resort." Monika mumbled, shaking her head. "Come on. It's getting late."
Alex had no response. He was still feeling a little foolish. He moved quickly to match her stride and catch up.
'Last resort' had become their agreed-upon euphemism for that inherent magical ability that Alex possessed. It wasn't just inherent. It was also inherited. His grandfather had also possessed that same ability, with perhaps a little greater strength than what Alex held. Grandfather Erik had taught him how to draw upon that power when he was still a boy. He'd taught him that word in the ancient dragon tongue. It allowed to him draw upon the magic inside him and release it as a shout of force like the wind of a storm. It certainly was a last resort, leaving him gasping and helpless for several moments afterward.
Upon a couple of occasions, it had actually proved useful enough to save their lives, but it wasn't something they could rely upon. He certainly couldn't use it that often and he needed the opportunity to safely recover after doing so.
For a time, he had seemingly lost that ability altogether. That was after that incident with the ancient Ayleid crown during that mission for the Penitus Oculatus. He hadn't regained the ability until that encounter with Azura's Star. Since that time, there hadn't been any reason to use it, except to test that he still had it.
As far as they knew, only two other people knew of Alex's ability with that power. One was Malcolm Forester. The other was Monika's friend, Florence, the head of the College of Whispers in Chorrol. Neither of them would be likely to speak of the secret.
Still, it was possible that the spectres might have learned of it. The Penitus Oculatus seemed to know everything else about them.
Of course, those old monks on that mountain in Skyrim also would have known. They had already dismissed Alex's grandfather many years ago for not being their prophesised chosen one. They would not even permit Alex to approach them when he'd tried last year.
From Monika's reading in some old books, they had considered that Alex's bloodline might be descended from one of the dragon lords of ancient Skyrim. Still, that was only reasonable speculation. There was no way to know for certain.
A few leagues further along, Alex and Monika passed by the Kvatch Mines. The walls of the city could still be seen far above upon the hilltop. They finally seemed just a little closer. A Legion rider had stopped to chat with a Kvatch guard at the encampment outside the mines. He had glanced at them as they passed by, but otherwise hadn't seemed particularly interested.
It was near to sunset by the time that they approached the road that turned off toward Kvatch. As they crested the hill at a bend in the road, Alex had stumbled slightly and come to a full stop. He was clearly astounded by what he saw. From the vantage of that hill, Alex beheld his very first view of the sea. Before coming to Cyrodiil, the largest body of water that he'd ever seen had been Lake Ilinalta, just north of his home near Falkreath. That lake was not all that wide and not terribly deep. He'd previously been rather impressed by Lake Rumare about the Imperial City when firstly saw it last year. He'd also been similarly affected by his first view of Niben Bay near Bravil. Of course, Niben Bay was just a broad basin where the river widened to something akin to a lake. However, this was something else altogether. Beyond the reach of the land to the south, the Abecean Sea spread out to the horizon as far as he could see. Of course, he already knew that it was there, but actually seeing it with his own eyes was something else entirely.
Monika had travelled several paces before she realised Alex was not following. She came back to stand by his side. She allowed a brief moment to pass before disturbing him. She took his arm, speaking softly. "Come on, we should keep moving. It'll be dark soon."
"Okay." Alex tried to shake off the distraction and fell into step.
The road that led to Kvatch was only a short distance ahead of them.
Monika raised a suggestion. "Hey. I was just thinking. It's nearly an hour to up to Kvatch." She indicated the road ahead to the west. "It's not that much longer to the Gottshaw Inn… and that's in the right direction."
"Okay then." Alex agreed easily enough. He was vaguely disappointed that they were not going to Kvatch, but he kept that to himself. After all, the main reason for their journey was more about Monika's needs than his own passing interests. He also considered that document pouch that he had buried deeply in his backpack, but that was really only a secondary concern.
They would hopefully find accommodation at that inn to stay for the evening, then continue onward to Anvil the next morning. According to Monika, she expected that they would be at the seaside city well before dark. After that first glimpse of the sea, Alex was quite looking forward to arriving at Anvil.
~O~
