Chapter 4

The city of Khydalaa was an impressive and breathtaking sight. Situated a half days ride away from the base of the Koringrath mountains it was nestled atop the only hills in the area. The walls of the city were ringed around the base, standing tall and imposing only showing the tops of the buildings within. The main gates stood open and Duren could see that the main causeway that led directly into the middle of the city was actually a very cleverly designed killing field.

The city was divided in two, an east and a west side, and to enter either side one would be required to go up the center and forward to two separate gates deep within. Each side of Khydalaa had its own enclosed walls and gate, meaning that if an enemy were to breach the main gate then they would find themselves in a long straight stretch of land that had no access to the city proper and was surrounded on three sides by tall walls which would no doubt be maned against them. Past that they would still need to break down the inner gates, both of them if they wanted to get into the city proper, and that wasn't even counting getting into the castle.

The Alnori river rushed past and had gouged a deep canyon in one of the hills, atop which the castle proper sat. The hill was steep, too steep to easily climb and the walls ringing the top left no space to set up siege equipment meaning the only way to reliably get to the castle was first through the main gate, then through the west gate, then across the city to the west bridge. Once on the bridge the enemy would be required to march exposed across and then assault the last gate for the castle itself.

It was a logistical nightmare, and Duren was impressed when he saw the amount of effort and thought that went into Khydalaa's defenses, the old man had described it to him a number of times, but he hadn't truly understood until he had seen it himself. It was after all a combination of those defenses as well as the well-trained professional military and guard that the city used and the connection of countless merchants that Khydalaa continued to thrive as an independent city-state. Many, many attempts over the past 400 years to pull the rather prosperous city-state back into the Bayosian Kingdom's fold, but every time one of the Kings had gotten the idea in their heads that they could take the city there were dire consequences both in the number of men needed to be deployed to take Khydalaa and the fact that most merchant's operated out of the city, due to the relaxed tax regulations. Not only was it a huge drain on the army's coffers, but it was also an economic disaster as merchants the world over decided not to trade with the Kingdom, or to hike their prices.

Still, it had been tried, many times, the last of which was some 50 years ago according to the old man. Apparently being a member of the Order of Odann gave you the privilege of bypassing all the standard protocol or perhaps it was Michaeleen's air of authority as he bellowed and shoved his way through the crowd, pushing people aside in an attempt to clear the way for the cart. Duren stepped forward and started to bull his way through as well, and between the two of them they were able to get to the main gate rather quickly, though they were leaving a lot of rather unhappy people in their wake.

"What is all this the-" the gate guard, a man in his mid-thirties if Duren had to guess, wearing an undyed woolen gambeson and a brigandine in yellow over it pushed forward, his hand rested on the billy club on his waist. Before he could finish his sentence Michaeleen pushed forward and stood nose to nose with the man, aggressively shoving his face forward.

"We have wounded, and we will be going through that gate." it wasn't a request, and finding himself in the middle of a situation he didn't fully understand Duren decided to side with his new acquaintance, after all he knew Michaeleen better than the guard, that much was for sure. Stepping forward himself he rested his hand on the faceted surface of his pummel, not gripping the hilt, but making sure the man's eyes were drawn to the blade nonetheless.

"Very well," the man said, after looking hard at the two of them, stepping to the side he let them in. Michaeleen nodded his thanks before motioning the cart in.

"Head to the Healer’s hall," he said to the cart driver, "I shall be along right behind you." The driver nodded his head and urged the horse team forward, moving at a quick pace that forced people out of the way but not so quick as to not allow them to realize they needed to move. "I have much to do, both in making sure that Solvey is taken care of, and as for Cori-" he sighed, clearly not looking forward to that part of his task. "The Queens man is an inn, follow the road to the eastern gate into the residential district, it is a fairly good establishment and is located on the other side of Illune's Square from the Odann's hall, you can't miss it, rest at the inn and I will meet you there at the Hall first thing in the morning, deal?" He asked and Duren nodded to him. "Goddess bles't," he said by way of a farewell before turning around and sprinting to catch up with the departing wagon carrying his cohorts, white cape catching the wind behind him.

Duren watched him go for a moment and then started to look around the city. Being both a large population center as well as a major trade city it boasted all of the amenities that one would expect in a city of its size, everything from a bustling market to several inns of a modest class. The structures were of a classical design, one that had been used here in the Koringrath mountain ranges for generations, constructed of wooden planked and filled in with bricks of hard-baked earth and straw, then covered over with clay, leaving the squares of wood exposed but the bricks covered. Most were in good repair and were painted and whitewashed all the colors of a field full of flower blooms. The roofs of the more affluent houses and shops were slate or even clay shingles, while others were thatched with straw. Most of the buildings had a small area squared off with walls constructed also of brick wood and clay, on which family crests or lines of lineage were painted. As he walked it was not just through streets muddied by the morning's dew but also through the history of Khydalaa, which made it quite the lively and colorful place to look at.

He turned to his right and started down a wide lane that led towards the east gate as he had been told. As he walked he passed what looked to be a public garden or park area, deciding to take a detour he worked his way through passing under the well-kempt foliage of the stretching arms of yew trees. As he walked along the well-trodden paths he found they led to small alcoves, all of which were dotted with a number of fountains and a few statues of what had to be important figures from the city's past. He looked at the faces of councillors and soldiers alike that had done something of import when he paused as one caught his attention. He leaned in and looked at the stone face that scowled down at him, wondering why it looked so damned familiar. There was something about the set of the jaw and the shape of the eyebrows and-

Ha-” the sound bubbled out of his mouth unbidden, it was more of a cough then a laugh, but like a small stone rolling down a mountain threatening to form into an avalanche. He chuckled to himself, noting that while they had got the proportions mostly right however, the pose and clothing they had him in was just wrong in so many ways. Duren was pretty damn sure he would have never caught the Old man wearing something so ornate, after all puff sleeves and a brocade vest that cinched so tightly around the waist that Duren was pretty sure it would cut off circulation to the lower half of the body was not conducive to proper swordsmanship. That and the fact that the old man would never be caught dead with a rapier in his hands, nor would he for that matter, it was one of the things they both agreed wholeheartedly on, neither of them could fully hate the blades, as they were at the end of the day “swords,” but goddess bles’t that was only by the loosest of interpretations.

Chuckling to himself he decided to make sure that at some point in time to show this statue to the old man, now that would be funny. He made his way out of the park and back onto the main thoroughfare, a few deeper recesses of water pocked the road, places where the sun either had yet to dry or was cast in permanent shadow, across these were several rough-hewn boards that looked as though many people had walked along them smoothing and caking the surfaces in what Duren hoped was mud. The road led down to a sort of town square of sorts, the area opening up to accommodate a small raised platform. One that needed only two steps to achieve its needed height, but raised nonetheless, on it were three pillory stockades, only one of which was currently occupied by a man who half snored and groaned.

It made sense that the square dedicated to the goddess Illune had the town pillory at its center, after all, she was the goddess of justice, and the punishment of criminals was her domain. She was one of the goddesses that Duren understood the most, but likely not his favorite, no that honor went to her husband, Utaar, the trickster god. Both he and his followers were known for their practical, and impractical jokes, in fact that was how his followers worshipped, by playing jokes on people. All in good faith and fun that was, no one needed to worry about getting hurt by an Utaainite's jokes, just annoyed.

To the right side, a small chapel of the five sat behind a low shoulder height wall of clay whitewashed and painted with none to well-rendered religious iconography. The simple white building had a slate roof and a single bell tower, which now resonated with the chime of the mid-day tolling. Making the sign by splaying his hand first over his heart then pressing two fingers to his forehead he said a quick prayer before he turned away and made his way across the square, to the far side, where a wall of buildings formed the mass part of the market district.

Merchants had set up a few stands, the temporary wooden structures displaying their wares over which awnings of brightly colored dyed cloth cast shade each and every merchant shouting to get the attention of the passerby creating a comforting sort of cacophony he was able to lose himself in. There was everything from fresh cuts of meat at one, to dresses at another and even a charcoal burner with his burlap sacks standing in front of his wagon. None of this interested Duren however, who walked right past them and found what he was looking for.

The Odaan's hall was a grand building, taking up more space than even the chapel, it had the same look and material as all the other buildings around the city, wood, clay and everything, but it was on a much larger and more elaborate scale. There was a large manicured lawn in front of it , with a cobblestone path down the center that led to a circular central area with a moderate-sized fountain that was raining down water in a truly impressive arc. The architecture of the basin, however, was even more impressive. There was a man atop a horse, Odann no doubt, sword in one hand, bow in the other, his order cape flowing in the wind immortalized by the artisan that had captured the moment in time. His strong bearded face was somehow both stoic and caring at the same time, showing strength and compassion in equal measures.

Along the path of the walkway leading to the Order's hall , there was a multitude of bushes that had been trimmed into immaculate and somewhat unnatural rectangles, dotted periodically by unlit oil lamps that would cast light much more readily than flames of torches. At the far end of the causeway was the hall itself, it had five different chimneys, and its long rectangle front was dotted with glass windows, hundreds of panes each encased by wooden braces painted milk-white, the entrance hall of the structure was created off the front of the three-story structure making the building look L shaped if seen from above. Vines of ivy crept up the wood and whitewashed clay facade of the building, gripping the rough surface with its viny fingers, defying the will of gravity as it climbed skyward. Yeah, Michaeleen was right, there was no way to miss the Order's hall, turning from the building he spotted the inn that he had mentioned.

The queen's man was one of many inns in town that ran up and down the main street near the western gate. From the outside it looked like a fairly standard establishment, the front of the inn was painted in a peeling whitewash the color of milk, and the sign had no writing on it, like most of the signs in the city it instead showed an image of a bed and a mug foaming over, seeing as a good portion of the common folk couldn't even read. Making it much easier for everyone to simply put the image of a bed on it to symbolize an inn. The only way to tell this inn from the rest was by the painted mural on the front, worn though it might be you could still make out a man kneeling to a woman painted in bright greens and reds. The inside of the establishment left a little to be desired however, it was in need of a good sweeping, after all the mud in the city seemed to have been tracked in, making the old oak floors slick with muck, both dry and new. The tables also had some sort of sticky substance on them. The lighting was not that good either, aside from a few tallow candles that let off a greasy black smoke there was only the poor natural light that came in through the half-shuddered windows.

Well, Michaeleen had spoken well of it, so it must have some redeeming qualities. Nodding to himself he slipped back out of the inn and into the street determined to explore the city before coming back. After all, this was his first time in a city proper. He spent several hours looking around and the sun had started to set by the time he had made his way back to the inn. He was tired and after chatting with the rather sully innkeeper, another silver secured his room for the night. He looked around the room he had rented and smiled, as he sat down in the bed, which had been made up with new linen sheets. "Quite a good day," he said with a smile as he pulled off his boots and pack and laid his head on the coarse pillow. As soon as his eyes closed he was out cold, sincerely hoping tomorrow would be as exciting as today had been.