Chapter 26: Twilight of the golden city (2)

The youth put his quill back to the tray and blew on the parchment to dry out the ink. He then rolled the parchment into a scroll and tied it with a string. That was the last one, the boy stretched himself and cleaned up his working table, reordering the abacus, scrolls and parchments in a neat and orderly order. When he was done, he started to take a walk, bringing the scroll with him.

It was high noon and the lord was probably still practicing his sword skill on the garden as usual. The youth walked out of the long corridor while peeking out the many windows, hoping to take a glimpse of his lord practicing his sword with the weapon master.

It was a warm day. His lord was half naked and sweaty. His tanned and muscular body seemed to glisten from the amount of sweats and the glaring sun above him. The lord lashed out his wooden sword, exchanging quick blows with the weapon master in succession as their frames overlapped. One a giant of a man, the other a short burly dwarf, the two of them were the exact opposite of each other and yet somehow, they made the fight extremely entertaining to watch, making the guards and squire surrounded the lord cheered for him and the dwarven weapon master.

The youth intently watched as the two fighters fought with their wooden blades until he remembered that he was supposed to deliver the scroll to the house keeper and he was immediately on his way. He knocked the door and the house keeper told him to enter.

A sickly sour smell filled the youth’s nose, “Why does it take you so long to complete such a simple task?” the old man crankily asked, the same as usual. His hair was gray just like the melting warm snow on a rainy day. His long gray beard was beaded and tied into a single large knot by a large silver ring. His ears, each was pierced by three small silver rings. The old house keeper angrily hit his walking stick against the floor as he rose from his old rocking chair.

“I apologize,” The youth replied. He took the old man’s arms in a hurry and supported him walking to his working table.

“Let me see it,” the old man demanded as he sat down on the chair.

The youth wordlessly handed the scroll over to the house keeper and stood by his side, watching the old man unrolled the scroll and started to check the math with his abacus. The old man slowly and steadily ran through the scroll, making sure the youth got all of his math correctly.

“So, what is your opinion?” the old man suddenly asked.

“Yes?” the youth pondered, unsure of the question.

“Fool, I’m asking your opinion on this matter,” the house keeper scowled as he put away his abacus.

“I think that this is a good investment. I heard that the king of White Winter has declared war on Neversummer. It’s autumn in another month and soon after that winter will come. So I don’t think he starts the war now. He would wait until spring to launch the attack on Neversummer. The demand for iron ingots and iron nails will rise, I believe. If we start buying them now and stocking them in large quantity, we can ship them to White Winter and sell them at a higher price. Ice corns and red potatoes are also another options.” The youth humbly replied.

The old man remained silent and that was the best praise the youth could receive from the house keeper. Suddenly the old man sighed as he tiredly leaned back on his chair. “Fool, how long have you been working here?” he asked.

“Seven years, master.”

“Have you ever hold grudge against me for being so hard on you?”

“No, master. I would not dare.” The youth shook his head, massaging the old man’s shoulders, “You did that for me. Otherwise, a child of a prostitute like me would remain a stable boy forever and everyone will not stop voicing their complaints to the lord for his decision.”

The old man sighed again, old and weary was his sigh. “If only the young master was as smart as you…” his voice trailed off.

“He’s our lord’s son. In time, he will grow up into a great man.”

“I can only hope so,” the old man sighed again, “I will recommend you as my successor to our lord. You can start working as the house keeper in new year.”

“I would not dare, Master. You are still very strong and I have a lot to learn.” The youth shook his head.

“You don’t have to lie to me about my health. I know what I can do and what I cannot better than anyone else,” the old man crankily knocked his bony knuckle on the boy’s forehead. “Make sure you take good care of our lord and the young lord,” he said.

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When the sun was setting, the shadow of the Golden city started to grow gradually and it seemed as if the city itself was growing constantly. In the end, the shadow together with the sky mixed in darkness which engulfed the predominantly brown land. Somehow, Bloodbeard has started to get sick of seeing such mundane scene over and over again for the last few days.

It has been the four days since he declared his ultimatum on Madukat, of course, the city still stood defiantly as if mocking his declaration. That was the damn plan anyway, not his plan, their plan, those fucking witch hunters and Bloodbeard had no better choice than following that plan if he wanted to get the other half of the payment he received.

It had become a schedule for him during the last few days. He would wake up, praying to Wonten, having his breakfast, talking smack to his gang to keep them from being bored and careless.

Then, Bloodbeard would begin his day by starting the siege engine, launching a few dozen boulders over the inner wall of Madukat and watching a piece of the beautiful fort city crumbled down. He would keep doing that for over half an hour.

Occasionally, his minions managed to catch a couple of people snuck out of Madukat through the breach on the Western wall during the night. They were mostly peasants, miners, beggars and occasionally traveling traders and wealthy merchants from rich families. Bloodbeard would sort those captives into different categories, those would be useful to sell to the travelling slavers, those that were completely useless, those should be kept for the gang’s entertainment and those could be ransomed for hefty coins.

Those that Bloodbeard considered useless, he would make a good sport out of them, tying them to a stake and making his henchmen to gut them for the guards on the walls of Madukat to see. That would relieve his gang a bit of their restlessness and starve for blood.

He wanted the guards to fear him and his army. However, lately, he felt like even some of the guards who manned the walls had become bored. They became careless with him and his army because they thought they have grown accustomed to his attack.

That’s great. Bloodbeard could visually identify which of the shifts were vigilant and alert and which were bore and careless. If he wanted to storm the city, it would not take more than two days for him to make the city his. Besides, if those fools could sneak out of the city, his gang could easily do the opposite, sneaking in. Even some of his most stupid henchmen had already figured it out that they could storm this fortress city to the ground.

Yet, he had to play the scaring game with these fools instead.

He thought of going back against his word, taking this fortress city for himself instead. The loot he got from sacking such a rich city would be more than enough to cover for the half of the payment he had not received from those witch hunters. However, doing that, Bloodbeard had to face both army from Zard and White Winter at the same time. It’s not worth angering those witch hunters over a city even if that city was Madukat.

“Master, how long must we stay in this place? I want to go south as soon as possible. There is nothing for us to do here.” One of his henchmen told Bloodbeard and the rest of the gang agreed.

Bloodbeard scanned his personal guards and replied, “Bear with it, try to play around with those captured women for at most another week under this snow. It would take some time until those white robes reach here.”

“I don’t want to fight them for real.”

“We won’t fight them. What’s the point of fighting them? They paid us to help them in this war.”

The men bickered.

Bloodbeard too, got sick of this farce. The city no longer had any mean to stop him and his army from storming it to the ground and yet, his order was to wait.

He thought he was allowed to raid Madukat, sacking it of gold and women, yet he was being used as a ploy for those Judgment army to cross the border and invaded Zard. Those bloody witch hunters, they were smarter than he has expected. Madukat was too great of a prize for those witch hunter to give up on.

Really, six carts full of gold was too cheap of a price for such a city. Bloodbeard lamented inwardly. He had received the deposit of three carts full of gold and had to wait until the completion of the job to receive the other three.

It’s not like Bloodbeard trusted those witch hunters to keep up their end of the promise. They approached him first, telling him that they would provide him the mean to siege the golden fortress Madukat and they just need his cooperation. Bloodbeard was doubtful and initially suspected that the deal was a trap but six carts full of gold was too attractive to ignore. He took four months to subjugate all the bandit groups and got to know the geography of the Triangle Golden Area.

It went relatively well for him with each success. His army grew larger and larger after each subjugation. Only when Bloodbeard was confident that he could storm Madukat with the help he received from those witch hunters that he went for it. Yet, only when he was so very close to be the first person to break the myth of invincibility of Madukat, those petty bastards told him that storming Madukat was never a part of the plan.

Bloodbeard told himself to not be swayed by the small greed in front of Him. Madukat was but a single city, albeit the richest city of Zard, but it was but a single city. If the plan went accordingly, those white robes would have nothing to worry about their invasion. They managed to get through the choke point that was Madukat and have secured themselves supply base to hoard and transport all of their supply for future operations. They can go south and siege the king city of Zard while Bloodbeard and his minions raided cities, towns and villages across Zard.

If Bloodbeard was to do a damn good job with his raiding business, he would probably get more gold than he could possibly get from ransacking Madukat, the bandit lord told himself.

Bloodbeard started to consider changing his occupation in the future whether he failed or succeeded to support those white robes to invade Zard. He would form a band of mercenary.

Had he known that this mercenary business was this profitable, he had already formed his own mercenary band a long time ago.

Bloodbeard waved his gang to change shift and entered his tent to have an early sleep. Bloodbeard would always take the nightshift and dawn shift to himself, he never trusted those shifts to his gangs no matter who. If his enemies decided to attack, it would be late at night when the moons were high or early in the morning at dawn, Bloodbeard knew from his experience.

Bloodbeard entered his tent and laid his twin poleaxes next to him as he unrolled the large deer hide he ransacked from a hunter house to the ground. Slowly, he laid down on the deer hide. He felt his body was stiffed, more stiffed than usual. He has not fully recovered from the wounds inflicted by the guard. That man was special, truly special. He was able to fight Bloodbeard to a standstill and inflicted all sort of wounds on his body. Not many men can do that, Bloodbeard thought. It was no wonder Wonten spared him.

The wounds he received from that man was more serious than Bloodbeard thought one of his many wounds festered,. His minions told Bloodbeard that he had a fever a few days back and he’s recovering from it, not that Bloodbeard knew. Bloodbeard has forgotten what hot and cold was. He felt no pain even if he was to put his hand into the camp fire to take out the burning firewood. He felt no pain when the swords and spears of his enemies smeared his body with his own blood. His tongue could taste nothing, neither sweetness nor sourness nor saltiness nor spiciness, nothing.

He could not understand the pleasure of the flesh that his minions talked about when they raped those women they captured, he pretended he did.

He knew what lust was when he saw a naked woman but he never knew how to release himself from his own lust. He mimicked people around him, fucking the life out of those women with his large cock, and still, he felt nothing but the insatiable thirst to dominate and trample over everything within his sight. That murky, dark as mud potion that his dickhead father fed him that day turned Bloodbeard into an ultimate fighter for he knew neither pain nor tiredness, yet it made him felt less alive than dead.

Slowly, Bloodbeard felt his eye lids became heavier, eventually, his mind faded to black.

Then, he had the strangest dream in a while.

He was in a dark place, a vast empty plain, wandering around and around, searching for something. He did not know what he was searching for but he just kept doing that, wandering and searching within that dark plain as the moons above him hid within the dark clouds. He did not know how long had he kept doing that or how long would he continue to do so. He was lost and clueless within that darkness.

Then he saw a pair of gems shone within that murky darkness. The gems shone like the brightest stars on the night sky. Bloodbeard approached that pair of gems whilst the dark clouds above were moving away to reveal a strange bird, an owl under the moonlight.

It was a strange owl, the strangest owl Bloodbeard had ever seen. Its feather was dark like the night itself and not white or gray like the usual owls Bloodbeard had seen. The strange bird showed no fear even when Bloodbeard was a few steps away from it. Its eyes were shining like stars, yet the color of its irises was dark like polished onyx.

It was such a beautiful bird, Bloodbeard honestly thought, became strangely fixated by the owl’s appearance. It had a mysterious air around it, otherworldly and almost divinely.

The owl suddenly flapped its wings, its wingspan overshadowed even the biggest mountain eagles Bloodbeard had ever seen. The bird hovered in front of Bloodbeard as if it was trying to tell Bloodbeard to follow it. He followed the bird without understanding the reason behind his own action and the owl guided him, leading him through that dark plain.

Bloodbeard never saw the end of that dream, one of his henchmen woke him up, telling that it was his shift. Bloodbeard splashed cold water on his face to wash away his drowsiness and took his shift.

One Eye and a couple of Bloodbeard personal guards were grilling a hare within the camp fire. The red flame roared every time the fat of the hare dripped down. Bloodbeard heard his stomach grumbled loudly, the gang laughed and told him to join them for the supper. Bloodbeard sat down on a log placed next to the camp fire, waiting for the meal to be served while his thought was fully occupied by that strange owl in his dream.

He did not know the meaning of that dream.

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Moira watched as Erik her chief knight became crankier and crankier after every passing day. He slept less and less, sometimes just an hour during noon. He was being very paranoid and kept telling the knights and the guards that “it would be tonight” that “Bloodbeard would storm the city.”

However, that never happened. Bloodbeard seemed to be pretty content with tossing thirties or forties boulders over the wall of Madukat a day with his mysterious siege engine despite all of his threats. Nobody could know what Bloodbeard’s game was. However, the guard captains and Girout were very happy with the situation. Those bloody bandits would soon know doom for what it was when that Judgment Army was upon them.

Erik told his knights and guards to keep working on those war chariots. They would add more stuffs on the chariots, reinforcing the frame of the chariots with more blades and shields or oiling the axles with animal fat. He told them to treat those chariots as their own lives.

It has been snowing heavily for a few day. This snow would probably slow down the marching speed of the Judgment Army for weeks, that’s what the men said.

So I would be trapped within these walls for much longer, Moira thought. She felt a gnawing boredom growing inside her after each passing day. At first, she tried to deal her boredom by helping her men with her magic to fix those chariots. After that, she was really bored. She had nothing else to do. She felt like Bloodbeard was trying to kill everyone inside the wall of Madukat with boredom. If that was really what Bloodbeard was after, that would be truly terrifying.

She would sometimes walk out of the Great wall that surround the Warden’s residence to the business district of Madukat, accompanied by ten of her bodyguards. Since she had nothing better to do, why not using this time to see more of Madukat, she told herself.

Every time Moira walked out of the Great wall, she learned something new.

At first, people were hiding inside their houses and reinforced their houses with wooden planks and nails, blocking their houses with whatever stuffs they could, hoping to prevent the bandits from entering their houses in the case the city was lost. Moira did not know how much of that would help them. Moira thought those people were probably became stupid from their fear. If they had the energy and strength for those kind of jobs, they should have volunteered themselves to help the guards manning the walls in the case that those bandits decided to storm the walls.

The streets of Madukat were empty, devoid of people and the vibrant market she once saw in the business district was ghostly silent.

But then, Moira remembered that ugly scene where the guards killed those peasants with their halberds below the Great wall. She suddenly came to a realization that these people did not love those guards and even the Warden himself more than the bandits.

This city is a mess, Moira thought, it was really a giant mess.

Then after a few days, the market reopened. The slavers were selling slaves and the butchers were shouting for people to buy his stuffs. It’s like nothing has ever happened and the bandits did not exist. Though, Moira could not say the same for the price, everyone was trying to make as much as money as they could. Moira could not understand why they did that. What was the point of filling their pockets with as much coins as they could when bandits could breach the city and ransack every coins they possessed in any moment?

Daylight robbery and thieveries happened regularly. Moira tried to help but she soon found herself more useless than she thought. Her flame magic would not allow her to catch the criminals and instead turn those people into cinder.

Around the third day, Moira heard that there was an Essence temple within the wall and decided to go there, offering her prayer to Niwdar.

If the golden city Madukat was good at something, it would be that this city was very good at making Moira disappointed, she sighed inwardly.

This city was full of craps. She did not want to comment about the Warden himself or those men who looked down on her just because she is a woman.

This city was really full of craps, Moira thought.

The bar that was said to be opened by a wandering elf had no elf. People said that that was hundred years ago during the Hundred Year War and that elf who opened that bar has wandered somewhere else. Had they not serve good food and great music, Moira would have been very mad.

They said that there was an Essence Temple at the Eastern slope of the business district, but when Moira arrived there, she could not call it a temple. It was a ruin of what once was a temple erected to service Niwdar.

What Moira saw was a destroyed house built from limestone that stained black and covered in withered wild ivy vines. It was much smaller compared to the Essence Temple in Neirra in term of size. A withered white tree was planted in front of the temple.

Moira guessed that it was abandoned after being burned down in the past from the visible black stains on the wall. When Moira tried to enter the house, her bodyguards stopped her from doing so. The roof was clearly damaged, they said, it could collapse at any moment. Thus, Moira could only pray to Niwdar inside her mind and left.

When she was leaving the ruined temple, she discovered that there were actually people living inside that. Probably homeless and beggar, Moira thought as she was leaving. She could not help but asking herself how on Escana these people of Madukat would heal themselves if they did not have an Essence Temple within their city. They must be very rich if they could do away with those expensive salves and potions from those alchemists and private healers. But then, Moira remembered the number of homeless people and beggars she has seen.

The worship of Sinintee was widespread across the Northern realm; however, it was Niwdar’s temple that people visited the most. That was mainly due to the kind of service that the Essence Temple offered.

Hurt, go and call a priestess from the Essence Temple. Sick, poisoned, cursed; offer thy prayer to Niwdar.

Thus, the Essence Temples were erected in most cities and even some large towns and villages whereas the Great Temple of Sinintee could only be seen in the biggest cities.

This city is full of craps, Moira lamented inwardly. The songs, the poems, and the stories about this city that Moira knew were full of craps as well, a bunch of lies.

One day, Moira just wandered aimlessly on the cobbled streets because she had nothing better to do. She felt like she was locked up in a dark dungeon if she kept staying inside the Warden’s house, listening to the bickering of Girout and the guard captains or watching Erik got crankier and crankier with himself and his men.

Moira walked to feel the warm snow melt on her skin and the wind caressed her skin. It was a unique experience for her and she welcomed it. She walked to ease her boredom. She could not stand sitting around and doing nothing. While Moira was strolling down the streets, she heard a strange song was being sung in a foreign tongue and in tune with a gentle resonance of a harp.

It was beautiful, both the voice and the harp. It was a bit sad, dripping with melancholy.

Moira thought that it was a rare thing. In term of string instrument, the harp and its crystal clear sound was favored by the elf whilst the northern men preferred the sound of lute which was crispier and deeper. One of the priestesses Moira knew in Neirra was especially good with the harp and yet, she was but an imitation to the person who was playing that harp.

Moira followed the sound of the harp, hoping that she might find herself an elf. She has only heard about the elves in the story, never met one herself. It’s said that the elves were the fairest creatures on Escana, of course, Moira would be curious. Would they be as beautiful as her sister Rosalia or even more than that?

The song lead Moira back to that abandoned Essence temple of the goddess Niwdar again. She climbed the slope and saw a woman sitting under the shade of the ruin.

The woman wore a scanty tunic that was dark like the color of the raven’s feather, making her stood out against the white of the temple wall and the falling snow around her. Her tunic was tight and inviting, beautifully framing her gorgeous curves. A dark, almost translucent veil covered half of her face, it did little to hide her fairest face if not only added a mysterious charm to her character. Her eyes were amber, enchanting yet piercing. Her hair was shoulder length, well-trimmed, a cascade of rosy velvet.

Moira allowed herself to be captivated by the enchantment of the minstrel’s gentle voice and harp. Her body guards too, were entranced. They held their breath and stood fixedly to the ground, completely being enamored by the woman. Moira could not blame them, even as a woman herself, Moira found herself being spell-bounded by that woman’s beauty.

When the song ended and the sound of the harp quietly disappeared to give way to the rifting wind, Moira was still breathing quietly and being captivated. It was until one of her bodyguards clapped his hand, Moira came to herself, clapping her hands to show her admiration to the minstrel.

The woman in black clothing just nodded lightly, stood up and rustled the snow on her body. Moira hurriedly took out a few coins from her pouch, a bit more from the usual tip that she would give to any bard but she thought it was fair. She approached the masked woman, handed the coins over.

The minstrel stood a shoulder shorter than Moira, the exact ideal height for a woman in the northern realm. Standing next to such a pretty woman made Moira really felt her complexity over her own height, albeit not for too long, her height allowed Moira to dip her eyes to the masked woman’s generous cleavage. Her breasts were full and stout, and the pair were almost practically spilled out of the tight tunic. Moira’s breasts by no mean a plot of scanty harvest, but she could only feel inferior to the rich pair in front of her.

When Moira realized a hint of smile from the masked minstrel from the creases of her eyes, she probably realized that Moira was staring at her chest. Moira blinked, moving her gaze to meet the minstrel’s piercing amber eyes “You have the most beautiful voice that I have ever heard,” she complimented.

The woman once again nodded her head and just casually accepted the coins. Her reaction was a little bit cold, Moira thought. A breeze suddenly blew by, lifting the minstrel’s rosy lock and revealing her pale round ears.

“I thought you was an elf for a moment.” Moira honestly voiced her thought. She was being disillusioned at this point. She thought this beautiful woman had to be an elf. That bar in the business district really messed up her expectation through and through.

“It must have been a real disappointment.” The minstrel chuckled amusedly and brought her fingers up to cover her mouth despite having that veil covering her face. It must have been a habit, her movement was smooth and elegant. She reminded Moira of her own sister and those noble women and court ladies.

“Just a bit,” Moira replied, winking her eyes. She thought that this gorgeous looking minstrel might be of a fallen noble house or a rich family. Her accent was a bit strange, Moira was not sure where it came from, but it was light and pleasant to the ears. “Why are you singing in this desolated place? If you want to sing, why not go somewhere else so people could listen to your song?” Moira inquired.

“I was told that there was a temple of Niwdar in this city and when I came here, this is all I can see,” the minstrel turned and gazed over the abandoned temple, “It’s in such a sad state…” and her voice trailed off.

“Are you a traveler as well?”

“Indeed.” The woman nodded her head.

Moira found herself wanting to chat with the minstrel. Hildy was the masked minstrel’s name. She has been travelling around for a very long time. She stopped at Madukat recently and trapped within just like Moira. That’s all Moira has learned.

Hildy was a bit cold and distant, Moira thought. Though, Moira might as well blame some of her bodyguards who tiptoed, trying to be as high as possible and dipping their eyes into the deep cleavage of Hildy. She bid Moira farewell as soon as Moira began to introduce herself. Moira thought that minstrel was rather strange for a performer and returned to the Warden’s mansion after that.

Then after a few days, Moira noticed a big change was taking place within the high walls of Madukat.

She saw those inquisitors of White Winter gathered crowds at every corner within the city walls, spreading the news of a Judgment Army was coming to Madukat to liberate every one of the bandits. The inquisitors promised to save Madukat and made the bandits paid for what they did. Naturally, the crowd cheered for them. The crowd welcomed the inquisitors like their long lost family members, some even knelt at their feet, kissing on their own fingers and used those fingers to touch the sole of those inquisitors’ shoes.

The Judgment Army had not arrived yet and those inquisitors were already treated by these people as their own heroes, Moira thought. However, she was genuinely happy about the change.

The air within Madukat for the past few days was dead, but now it felt much better.