redford
10-27-15, 01:47 AM
Sun-baked and golden, the wall loomed over them.
John looked across the horizon and just barely saw the curve of the wall around Dehlos. The city had a reputation for being massive and well-fortified, and it certainly lived up to it. They were perhaps a hundred feet from it, next to a small building that had the same earthy tone as the tawny ground beneath his feet. It was hard and dry, and it was good that the sea was behind them, else the city might not have existed in the first place. The building was about thirty feet long, and had an arch that ran the length of it so that two men could walk side by side through it. John entered behind Tobias through a thin curtain, and as his eyes adjusted from the brightness outside, he saw a half-dozen soldiers eyeing him warily from their posts on either side of the room.
Another normal day for John Cromwell.
Another soldier emerged from a side room, wearing a different helmet and armor markings. The work on his breastplate was excellent, two wings sprouted from the weld in the center, flaring out to join with the shoulderguards. He looked Tobias and John up and down, and approached, lifting a clipboard from a nearby table. He took a second glance at John before he turned his eyes back to the paper. Tobias seemed at ease, though. He spoke to the two of them with a practiced quickness.
“Name and guild or profession?”
Tobias responded without hesitating.
“Tobias Stalt, mercenary guild,”
John had decided for the moment to remain silent, as he knew not the people or their customs. Though, not speaking was generally the way he leaned with most things. The captain looked up in wide-eyed disbelief.
“Son of Ebericht?”
“The very same,” Tobias responded.
The captain recovered from his surprise quickly, and coughed twice. “Well, always nice to see friendly faces returning. Tell’im Herald says hi,” He pointed his quill at John, seeming to expect some kind of explanation for the huge man with metal arms and calves.
“Sure,” the mercenary grunted amicably. He gestured toward John and explained, “he's a Smith. The west got boring to him, so he came to Dehlos to work like a true crafter.”
The sound of quill scratches filled the air for a few moments as the captain checked boxes and initialed pages. He tore the page away and handed it to Tobias.
“Any friend of a Stalt is a friend of Dehlos, you’re both clear to enter.”
“Bloody struth.” Tobi glanced over to John and shrugged. “They like mercenaries,” he lied. He disliked explaining his blood-status to people, and despite the fact that his father had been mentioned, Tobias felt no desire to expound. They had not spoken in a very long time. Sometimes Tobias wondered if his father were still breathing.
Tobias walked forward quickly, and John followed. He felt the eyes of the captain and his men upon him, which was not unusual, but still put him on edge at times. Tobias emerged into the light again, and John ducked under the arch to follow, blinded for a moment by the morning sun. John’s uneasiness bubbled over as he followed Tobias’ purposed step.
“Any laws I should know about?” he asked, wiping the sweat that was already beading on his forehead.
“Always pay,” Tobias told him gravely. “Economy before self interest, because the economy is self interest.”
John grunted in response. He looked up again at the top of the outer wall of Dehlos. His initial estimate had been off, they were farther than he suspected, and the wall was larger than he expected. It almost looked like it was falling over on him, the way the clouds moved past it. John felt small, and he did not like it.
“Hey,” Tobi called over to John. When he noticed the man gawking at the city’s perimeter, he cuffed the man on the shoulder. “We need to keep moving. We’re burning daylight.”
Tobias snatched John from his thoughts as they walked toward the gate. John stared at these as well, silently noting to himself that they were the largest doors he’d ever seen. The wood was banded with a metal John did not recognize, though one did not protect a city this large with simple iron and wood. John continued to look at the door as Tobias handed his paper to the guard on duty. He smirked, nodding at John.
“First time in Dehlos?”
John turned his head, forgetting the enormity of everything around him for a moment.
“Yes.”
“Whoa. Serious friend you got there,” he said, still smiling, but now at Tobias. He held out the paper, which now held a red stamp.
“A common trait in the west,” Tobias appraised offhandedly, “one I learned to value. Keeps men alive.” The guard tilted his head, the underlying meaning of Stalt’s words lost on him. John and Tobias exchanged glances; both men knew all too well about life that side of the water.
As they passed into Dehlos proper, John noted that the soldier guarding the gate was one of the few people who had not seemed perturbed by his size. Perhaps he was used to looking at huge things.
John looked across the horizon and just barely saw the curve of the wall around Dehlos. The city had a reputation for being massive and well-fortified, and it certainly lived up to it. They were perhaps a hundred feet from it, next to a small building that had the same earthy tone as the tawny ground beneath his feet. It was hard and dry, and it was good that the sea was behind them, else the city might not have existed in the first place. The building was about thirty feet long, and had an arch that ran the length of it so that two men could walk side by side through it. John entered behind Tobias through a thin curtain, and as his eyes adjusted from the brightness outside, he saw a half-dozen soldiers eyeing him warily from their posts on either side of the room.
Another normal day for John Cromwell.
Another soldier emerged from a side room, wearing a different helmet and armor markings. The work on his breastplate was excellent, two wings sprouted from the weld in the center, flaring out to join with the shoulderguards. He looked Tobias and John up and down, and approached, lifting a clipboard from a nearby table. He took a second glance at John before he turned his eyes back to the paper. Tobias seemed at ease, though. He spoke to the two of them with a practiced quickness.
“Name and guild or profession?”
Tobias responded without hesitating.
“Tobias Stalt, mercenary guild,”
John had decided for the moment to remain silent, as he knew not the people or their customs. Though, not speaking was generally the way he leaned with most things. The captain looked up in wide-eyed disbelief.
“Son of Ebericht?”
“The very same,” Tobias responded.
The captain recovered from his surprise quickly, and coughed twice. “Well, always nice to see friendly faces returning. Tell’im Herald says hi,” He pointed his quill at John, seeming to expect some kind of explanation for the huge man with metal arms and calves.
“Sure,” the mercenary grunted amicably. He gestured toward John and explained, “he's a Smith. The west got boring to him, so he came to Dehlos to work like a true crafter.”
The sound of quill scratches filled the air for a few moments as the captain checked boxes and initialed pages. He tore the page away and handed it to Tobias.
“Any friend of a Stalt is a friend of Dehlos, you’re both clear to enter.”
“Bloody struth.” Tobi glanced over to John and shrugged. “They like mercenaries,” he lied. He disliked explaining his blood-status to people, and despite the fact that his father had been mentioned, Tobias felt no desire to expound. They had not spoken in a very long time. Sometimes Tobias wondered if his father were still breathing.
Tobias walked forward quickly, and John followed. He felt the eyes of the captain and his men upon him, which was not unusual, but still put him on edge at times. Tobias emerged into the light again, and John ducked under the arch to follow, blinded for a moment by the morning sun. John’s uneasiness bubbled over as he followed Tobias’ purposed step.
“Any laws I should know about?” he asked, wiping the sweat that was already beading on his forehead.
“Always pay,” Tobias told him gravely. “Economy before self interest, because the economy is self interest.”
John grunted in response. He looked up again at the top of the outer wall of Dehlos. His initial estimate had been off, they were farther than he suspected, and the wall was larger than he expected. It almost looked like it was falling over on him, the way the clouds moved past it. John felt small, and he did not like it.
“Hey,” Tobi called over to John. When he noticed the man gawking at the city’s perimeter, he cuffed the man on the shoulder. “We need to keep moving. We’re burning daylight.”
Tobias snatched John from his thoughts as they walked toward the gate. John stared at these as well, silently noting to himself that they were the largest doors he’d ever seen. The wood was banded with a metal John did not recognize, though one did not protect a city this large with simple iron and wood. John continued to look at the door as Tobias handed his paper to the guard on duty. He smirked, nodding at John.
“First time in Dehlos?”
John turned his head, forgetting the enormity of everything around him for a moment.
“Yes.”
“Whoa. Serious friend you got there,” he said, still smiling, but now at Tobias. He held out the paper, which now held a red stamp.
“A common trait in the west,” Tobias appraised offhandedly, “one I learned to value. Keeps men alive.” The guard tilted his head, the underlying meaning of Stalt’s words lost on him. John and Tobias exchanged glances; both men knew all too well about life that side of the water.
As they passed into Dehlos proper, John noted that the soldier guarding the gate was one of the few people who had not seemed perturbed by his size. Perhaps he was used to looking at huge things.