Prologue VI
The moon above the clouds is setting, giving way for its celestial neighbor to peek, with all its engrossing incandescence staining the skies orange and yellow as the early birds chirped in agreement. Davion and his mule finally find themselves outside of the port, met by the large wooden portcullis gate that is surrounded by high stone walls decorated with murals of the city's aquatic history. The knight looks through the square holes the gate provided, and sees two fellows with spears and armor making their way to meet the visitor.
"Yes? 'Ello? What did you need?" The hunched over, portly guardsman said sheepishly while adjusting his large helm, most likely having just woken from a nap. Davion could just barely see a scraggly neck beard on his multiple chins and noticed that his uniform looked as if it had seen better days.
"Can I pass, good sirs? I am seeking someone that may be in here." Davion says, anticipating to meet the Nessaj once more for some answers.
"Wouldn't happen to be that one gentleman riding a horse, would it?" The skinnier of the two said. He sported a remarkable goatee and kept his armor well taken care of. "He was quite the oddball."
"Yes, actually. Is he still there?" Davion asks with an eyebrow raised.
"Well, no, I think." The skinny one says. "But I suppose you want passage? It'll cost you."
"Hold for a moment, where did the man go?" Davion asks.
"Oh, uhh…He went to the east on a ferry." He says. "Said some nonsense about a bright light or whatever. He refused to pay the damn fine, too… Anyway, you paying, or what?"
'It didn't cost anything to gain entrance to this place by sea, so why should there be a tax to gain entry by foot?' The knight thought to himself, smelling that something foul is afoot.
"Now hold on-" Davion begins to say, as suddenly he was interrupted by the appearance of another guardsman approaching the two others. She looked at them, with the two staring back with a very shocked looks on their faces.
"Oy, 'ere they are, lads!" The shield-maiden yells to the unseen men behind her just around the corner. "'Ere's the blokes that got Jim and Arnold!"
"W-well, damn. Nicetomeetyouall, goodbyenow!" the lanky one says, sprinting and abandoning his weapon. "Come on, Quirt!"
The fat one quickly trudges after his partner, doing the same. Both of them eager to leave despite the two not scoring some easy coins from unwitting fools today. The woman sent her four other compatriots hounding after them, with her taking note of the visitors by the gate.
"Hmm? An' who are you lot supposed to be?" She snarls, pointing her drawn blade towards the two travelers.
"...We were looking to get inside." Davion says, having just absorbed the absurdity of what he saw. "We mean no harm."
"Well now..." She says while glancing at his entirety, smirking a bit. "You do seem a decent fella. 'Ere's hopin' you ain't like them two, eh?"
She withdrew her ornately made saber from the man and called out to someone above her in a commanding tone:
"Oy, get this gate open! Quickly now, recruit." She says.
"Y-yes ma'am." A young, masculine voice says.
The portcullis gives way, making its way above the two near the gate into its proper place. Davion and the mule go through the entry, greeted by the bowing lady in front of them.
"Welcome to Farraige." She says, standing up straight. "Whatever you're 'ere for, just don't try not to make a mess, you 'ear? If I get word of anythin' on your behalf, you're out a here."
"Thank you, ma'am." The knight says, reciprocating the bow with his own, with her catching up to her men.
'Now, where could he be?' He thinks to himself, looking around and seeing nothing but eye-pleasing homes and businesses all around him.
He sees the white-walled and blue-roofed buildings around the entrance of this town square showered in the orange light from above them, many of them having more of the beautifully made murals from outside that tells a story of its own, beside the one the culture it originated from has designated to give. The bustling markets were not too far ahead, with quite a few citizens browsing the wares it holds, each of exotic variety hailing from the scorching deserts of the Scintillant Wastes and Misrule, to the frigid climes of Icewrack. Beyond that, the seagulls could be seen circling around the masts and its large sails on large merchants' vessels. Even though all these remarkable things were presented to him, there was no sight of the cloaked rider.
Davion lurked in the bazaar all day, looking for the hidden horseman, hoping to at least see the large stallion Nessaj rode on, with the mule having a bit of difficulty keeping up in the crowd of constantly shifting buyers. He was not at the blacksmith's, or the sundries store, or even at the tavern by the main square he entered in. Not here, nor there, could he be found.
"Damn it!" Davion mutters, his words drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the streets.
'It'd be best if I just stay for the night here. If I can't find him today or tomorrow, I will have to see if he's at Elze, after all. I feel worn out, besides.' He thinks to himself, ready to call it a day.
He looks around him, making sure his beige mule is with him. Thankfully, he is. They make the inn right next to the tavern – almost right where he entered – in this sparsely populated square. Night has arrived once more and he has end this day and leave by tomorrow if he can't find Nessaj. He enters the lofty little locale, met by a well-groomed, poor-sighted, – as far as the reading glasses could say to its beholders – but pudgy individual in gaudy garments behind a counter on a rather comfortable looking chair.
"'Ello, sir." He tips his hat in respect to the plated man in front of him in this classy establishment. "Will you be stayin' with us again in 'Posh and Pardon's'?"
"Err, yes, I will." Davion says, still taken aback by this blue-blooded culture, despite it being the second time he has been here. "50 gold a night, right?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sure you know where your quarters are?"
"Of course, I'll see myself there, thank you." He says, handing fifty of his gold pieces from his purse to the man behind the counter.
"Please mind your pet, Sir Knight, and 'ave a fine rest." He says, writing down Davion's name once again in his log, ensuring him his lodging.
Davion finds his quarters in the second floor, only a small pacing down the hallway with windows to its left-most wall that were pierced by the moonlight's glow and the rooms to its right with lanterns hung around the door frames. His room was one of the first: Room 2, since 3 was nonexistent due to the work of magic, or so the innkeeper says.
He lays eyes on the plushy bed by the corner that is overlooked by yet another window, and its own magics tantalized him as he prepared to rest his weary head. His mule was stripped of his own gear and was almost instantly unconscious, soon after. Davion rids himself of his burden and places it in the convenient trunk right in front of the bed.
He sets himself on the bed, groaning in relief after the mystifying few days that have passed so far. It was odd enough to still be alive after hunting dragons, before this, but his survival this time, as well as the other oddities that have happened so far are something different, that is for sure.
Davion is lulled to sleep, and all was well – as it should be – for once.
A.A.N.
Hey, I'm back. I am working on the 2 others, don't worry.
So, in case you didn't know, this little town doesn't really exist in the DOTA world. I would have had it been the capital of Cladd, which is Kunnka's home, but nah, doesn't fit. I think Cladd should be south of this bigger island, only having some connections to Farraige through trade, or something.
I nearly forgot, I will be making more fics on other subjects, including another for this game that ties in with the main story (This one). Stay tuned for more.
Review, ask questions, share and/or follow for more.