“Follow me,” the guard sighed, gesturing for me to follow him further into the city.
We walked briskly through the stone-paved streets, bypassing the lower and middle districts, the scents of washing, sizzling meat, and tobacco thick in the air. The cacophony of city life surrounded us, and I lost myself to the immersive music of merchants calling out their wares, children laughing as they played games in the streets, even the lust-filled voices of pleasure women as they called out to passing travelers. I involuntarily relaxed—I was at home in the city. Iluul, while a smaller southern port city, was still a city with the same sounds, the same smells, the same activities, just on a smaller scale.
As a boy, I played in the streets with kids my own age, even though we weren’t the same station in life. My father always practiced what he preached, and we lived and worked with members of all walks of life. As a result, I never had the same reaction to the lower sectors as my generally insufferable lordling peers.
It was one of the reasons why I was able to draw people to the rebellion so easily.
Distracted by the sights and scents of the city, I missed looking for possible additional entry points.
Fuck me.The whole point of this ruse was to gather intel and create a plan of attack, one that would not only allow us to rescue Ellowyn but eventually put a sizable dent in the crown’s military.
I glowered internally as the stone streets became wider and busier, full of carriages and horses. My guide seamlessly transferred from the street to a slightly elevated paved walkway that, like the street, was chock-full of people.
“Huh,” I huffed to myself, begrudgingly impressed at the engineering.
I caught the edge of the Mage’s thin mouth as it turned up into a half-smile.
“Pretty incredible, isn’t it,” he asked with no derision to be heard. I was slightly shocked that he held no animosity for an upstart southern lord. I swept my narrowed gaze over him again, trying to discern his angle.
He was shorter than me by a full hand and his hair was more grey than brown at this point in his life. Lines creased his face, both from laughter and worry; the sharpness of his intelligence was countered by an inherent softness, and the coupling was disarming.
I squinted hard at the shoulder of his black tunic, I could see the black stitching of a Pleasure Rune and a Mage Rune.
Pleasure Mage, then.
I tried to see if he was channeling now, forcing his Pleasure Magic on me in a bid to make me more affable and relaxed, but I couldn’t see or feel anything. He reminded me in a roundabout way of our head butler back in Iluul; he was practically my second father and, if rumor was to be believed, was my father’s consort for many years until my father’s death a few years ago.
Immediately, and against my better judgement, I liked the Mage.
“It is,” I admitted as I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“I’ve been to your Iluul,” he said, slowing his stride so we could walk together. “It was beautiful in its own way with the sandstone structures and mosaic tiling. I’ve never seen such artistry.” The awe in his voice was unmistakable.
“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. And not just because it’s my home.”
The Mage nodded knowingly.
“Something tells me you’ll like it here, though. There’s something . . . magnetic about this city, about its people. You can’t walk five feet without meeting someone from a completely different part of Elyria. Each street is lined with vendors selling all sorts of food and wares. It’s like getting to visit all of Elyria at once.” A smile pulled at his lips, and I couldn’t help but copy his action.
“Sounds like my kind of place,” I admitted.
“The technology here is second to none as well.” He gestured to the metal posts in the ground, each holding a Mage Orb at the top. “At night, these light automatically so people can see and walk without falling.”
I raised my eyebrows, impressed again.
We crossed a street and I stopped in my tracks, my jaw gaping at the landscape before me.
A sea of grey stone as far as the eye could see was set in the shape of a large square. At its center was a large stone obelisk covered in runes.
The Bondsmith would have a field day here.
“Pretty spectacular, yeah?” The Mage said, content to stop and look with me. The square was lined with vendors, and I spotted more than one refugee as they set up booths of their own, already assimilating into the motley culture. Some were even smiling, already making friends with their new neighbors.
For the first time ever, I second-guessed my mission.
Maybe, just maybe, the Matriarch was wrong about the Warlord and Vespera.
This didn’t seem like a place of evil, wrongdoing and hate woven into its fabric of existence. On the contrary, it felt like a place where the weary could rest their feet; a place where any and all could gather, share stories, and ease the burdens of life.
