Chapter 3

Scant traces of the morning mist lingered over the landscape by the time they reached the river: one of several which came down from the mountains to the west. Fast and clear, it sparkled in the morning sun, the sound of its coursing waters echoing out from under the arches of the stone bridge before them. The rough span was made of simple, but sturdy construction, long standing as the only way across the river for any traffic travelling over the northern highway.

Marcus wasn’t sure who was responsible for maintaining the bridge: on one end fluttered the white and blue banners of the Slane Theocracy; the other displayed the vermillion and gold banners of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Two soldiers stood sentry on their side of the bridge, equipped in chainmail over bleached white gambesons. They planted their roncones on the ground and saluted the Paladins on their horses.

“Captain Lorenzo?” The man closest to them asked, “Welcome. We received word that you would be arriving today.”

“That so?” Lorenzo replied cordially, returning their salute, “Seems like they are keeping things tight, so we had better get down to it. Actually, before we get going, do you men have anything that might be useful for the other side?”

“That…not really, sir,” the soldier answered. “Been stationed at this bridge for ten years, and I can’t say too much has changed with how quiet it is – on the north side, at least. There was that whole wave of refugees, then nothing for almost two months. Then merchants started coming down from the Empire through there as if nothing happened in the first place. Wasn’t long till some of ours started venturing north too.”

“…did they come back?”

What kind of question is that, you? Marcus gave Lorenzo a sidelong glance.

“The big merchants haven’t had the time to show back up again,” the soldier said. “Won’t be until next year that they finish their routes. The ones going around the places in the territory next door have been back and forth a few times now.”

“I had no idea people were going back and forth regularly,” Lorenzo mused as he looked to the top of the bridge, “though I suppose that is how word has been getting through.”

“None of your men from around here, Brother?”

“The closest ones are from Altamura.”

“Ah, yeah,” the soldier nodded. “The guys stationed there aren’t looking in this direction anyway. That’s pretty much what’s been going on, though. The only other thing is the construction of the new village on the north side.”

“I thought I saw something through the fog like that from higher up the valley – any idea why they’re putting a village on the border?”

“Not really, but it’s a big village. Some fellows on our side were sneaking around trying to get a good look at it without being noticed until Max here just decided to walk over the bridge and ask – hey Max, what did they say?”

“That they’re building a village,” the other soldier said flatly.

“Exciting, eh?” the first soldier smirked.

“It looks like most of it is done…were you here to observe the construction?” Lorenzo asked.

“Yeah,” the soldier answered. “Some golems were brought in to help with the heavier work after the stockpiles were set up – I think I saw them yesterday on the far side working on the wall now. The new temple was built first, of course, then the other main buildings around the square. I dunno how much more they plan on building here, but people’ve been moving in for the last month or so.”

“What about the Undead?”

“Everyone going north asks that,” the soldier shrugged, “but we haven’t seen any at all. The merchants coming south from E-Rantel say that there are plenty in the city, but it’s all Humans here, as far as we know.”

A bell tolled in the distance, and everyone present raised their heads to look towards the bell tower that rose over the other buildings in the settlement across the bridge. Marcus made a slight gesture with his head while looking at Lorenzo; the other Paladin tended to spend a great deal of time chatting if he felt that there was even a little bit of information to be had. The captain cleared his throat.

“We will see if the temple on the other side has anything more to share,” he nodded to the two soldiers. “The light of The Six protect you, and bless your souls.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the two bridge sentries nodded back to him, “may the wisdom of The Six guide your path.”

Lorenzo urged his mount forward, and Marcus pulled in alongside him as they slowly advanced over the bridge.

“How much of that do you think was true?” Lorenzo asked.

“I do not think that they have any reason to lie,” Marcus had little to consider, “but I cannot say that what they have been told is a sure thing as well. The temple there seems to be staffed, so we can see how their views match up with what those soldiers and the reports that were released to us say.”

“Views, eh…” Lorenzo’s deep voice rumbled in his chest, “How much do you know about the Temples in the north?”

“Our own, or those of the others?”

“From what has been reported, every temple and shrine from here to the Katze River is one of ours. The Riverlands have been a stronghold of The Six ever since the great seeding.”

“I guess I never considered the rest of the Riverlands a part of us,” Marcus shrugged. “That and nearly all of my years have been focused on keeping the borders clear of Undead and Beastmen elsewhere. Are you saying they are different from us somehow?”

“They would have to be, no?” Lorenzo said, “In the north, religion is kept separate from the state. Then the heresy came, which usurped nearly everything. If they were anything like the people down south, they would have already been at war with the heretics long before this Sorcerous Kingdom showed up. I hear they are more, hmm…tolerant? That faith in general is a private matter.”

“A private matter,” Marcus scoffed. “It is a good thing they do not have any Demihumans on their border who could not care less about how ‘private’ their faith is. How they have survived for this long without some hungry Beastmen infringing on their privacy is beyond me.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, though I hear they still use the Adventurer Guild for that sort of thing.”

“The Adventurer Guild!” Marcus laughed incredulously, “Was that not supposed to be a stopgap measure for the newly settled territories? You would think those musty old histories from temple school would not suddenly appear right in front of your face. The Adventurer Guild was never supposed to be permanent – what insanity would lead them to entrust national security to a gang of bounty hunters?”

They stilled their conversation as they rode over the crest of the bridge and the northern end came into view. The opposite number of the two soldiers on the south side eyed their approach, but did not make any moves. Their liveried appearance and weak presence told Marcus all he needed to know: rural militia, guarding a national border. Whoever was running this place was either criminally negligent or naively optimistic.

They slowed their mounts as they approached the end of the bridge. The two militia looked up at the fully armed and armoured men astride their massive warhorses.

“Welcome to the Sorcerous Kingdom,” the man on the right said in a bland voice. “How may we direct you?”

“Two armed men in full kit ride up to you and that is all you have to say?” Lorenzo tilted his head curiously.

“As of late, yeah,” the man answered. “Just two days ago, a huge merchant caravan came through with a whole mercenary company hired on as guards – four hundred armed men for fifty wagons. They weren’t the first to come through here, either.”

“Two hundred,” the other sentry corrected him. “All heavily equipped like you two, though. Well, maybe less…shiny.”

“Whatever,” the first man said. “All I know is that every inn from here to E-Rantel and onwards will be thanking them for the extra business. Maybe they’re going somewhere dangerous?”

“Re-Estize, maybe,” the second man offered. “Heard from some of the merchants coming down from the north that the roads from the western border to E-Pespel are riddled with bandits and the like.”

“Hunh. Anyway,” the first man continued, “If you have any goods to declare, the customs office will be to your right. If you have any official business, you can check in at the same place to process your paperwork. If you’re just here because you’re curious, then enjoy your stay and make sure you buy something – vendors’ll give you the stink eye if you don’t.”

“…that is it?” Marcus asked, “You are not going to stop us to ask questions?”

“I’m flattered, but I got a wife and kids back home. Maybe the other guy’ll–”

“Too old. Too hairy. Not shiny enough.”

“And there you have it,” the first sentry smiled apologetically. “Hope you’re not too devastated. Carry on.”

He waved the two Paladins through, and they silently moved on. Was it really alright for a border to be so…porous? Marcus almost felt obliged to turn around and justify his presence.

Past the two sentries, the construction of the village was being conducted in plain sight with no visible security measures beyond a few other members of the militia at their posts. Immediately to his right after crossing the foundations of the wall was a stone building that he presumed would eventually become an extension of the gatehouse coming off of the bridge – this must have been the customs office indicated by the sentry. A large window with a broad counter faced the road. Within its shadows, a portly, middle-aged man awaited visitors.

Dressed in the same blue-and-grey livery as the bridge sentries, he stood and walked forward, placing his hands on the counter as they dismounted and approached. After running a critical eye over their adornment, he spoke in a voice that seemed less than enthused.

“Don’t tell me there’s another couple hundred more of you waiting across the bridge,” he said.

“Just a small contingent of us,” Lorenzo replied.

“A contingent?” The man’s voice turned sour, “There ain’t no wars to fight here, mister. If you’re here with that sort of expectation, I’m going to have to ask you to turn around and leave for your own good.”

Lorenzo shifted to exchange glances with Marcus. It wasn’t often that Paladins were treated so offhandedly – by sentries, customs officers or otherwise.

“We are here on official business,” Lorenzo looked back up at the man behind the counter. “Per request of his Excellency the Bishop of E-Rantel. I am–”

“This would go a lot faster if you had the paperwork and physical identification to go with that official business of yours.”

Marcus gave the customs officer a long look. Paladins as a whole were treated as the pillar of the faith militant in the Theocracy and were accorded the same respect as army officers – occasionally more, depending on the circumstances. The difference in their reception here was jarring: it was as if their sacred charge did not matter at all.

I guess hearing of a secular state and experiencing it are entirely different things.

Lorenzo walked back out to his horse, pulling out a small stack of documents from a saddlebag. He came back and placed them on the counter.

“This is what I have been provided: documentation for all of my men, as well as those from his Excellency the Bishop.”

The man pulled the pile of papers over to himself and read over the first document, then he leafed through the others.

“Are the rest of your men waiting on the other side of the bridge?” He asked.

“That is correct,” Lorenzo replied, “along with wagons for our baggage and supplies.”

“The documents from the Bishop match the ones I've been provided with by the administration. We’ll need to process each member of your group individually, so have them come on over.”

“You knew who we were?” Marcus growled, “Then why all the–”

“I knew that someone was coming,” the man said sharply, “but many someones pass through here every day. Mostly without any notice.”

The customs officer met his glare, then he closed his eyes and let out a sigh before opening them again, looking up at the banners on display above their heads.

“You’ll have to forgive me for being so…testy,” he said in softer tones, “the sentries at the bridge probably gave you a hard time as well. Every group from the Theocracy looks more like a column of soldiers than a merchant caravan, and we’re a bit more than annoyed that every single one of them comes in like they’re expecting to fight a war. Outside of E-Rantel, Corelyn County is the most secure place in the Sorcerous Kingdom, and that’s saying a lot. Carrying yourself like it’s a lawless land full of brigands and savages is an affront to the honour of House Corelyn and by extension His Majesty the Sorcerer King.”

Marcus felt as a lion suddenly bitten by a mouse. Though he spoke in measured tones, the steel in the man’s voice was unmistakable and greatly at odds with his appearance and position. Lorenzo, too, seemed taken aback. The customs officer possessed a common appearance, yet at the idea that this House Corelyn was being subjected to an insult, he had immediately confronted them and rose in its defence like a loyal member of its household retinue.

“If you understand this,” the officer continued, “we should move on to getting you and your people across the border so you can see to your business. We’ve got a bit more before the merchants start arriving from the next stopover, but I have a feeling that we’re going to have to speak with your men at length. So…if you please?”

Lorenzo addressed Marcus when the customs officer turned away from them to attend to something behind the counter. The Paladin captain looked more bemused than anything else.

“Head back to the others and have them come over,” he told him. “I will get things started over here.”