Chapter 41 - An Old Acquaintance (2)

It took a whole day of flying with frequent stops and frequent circling around when there were humans, until I finally arrived at the central northern region of Shail kingdom. The frequent stops consisted of many miscellaneous tasks, such as obtaining some food to eat and some needs to release bodily wastes. Bluntly put, I had to shit and piss.

But you would not want to hear about that, my guest, so if I fail to mention these needs and tasks in telling you my story, it is because I have glossed over these details. So for your sake, pretend that I am a creature who need not obey his anatomical needs. Unless, of course, you have an urge to hear about me shitting, but I highly doubt that.

Continuing on with the story, I had landed in the middle of the forest roads leading to the city of Asolance. There were many of these roads, most of which were beaten and traveled earthen paths. I landed in one of the less traveled roads after making sure there were no humans nearby. These roads were familiar to me, since I had often frequented them on my travels.

With my black cowl hiding almost the entirety of my face, I switch from one forest road to another, until I finally reached the spot where I had died; it was relatively easy since I could see through the black cowl, even though it hid my eyes.

The human merchants, peasants, and tradesmen on these roads barely gave me a glance as they headed toward their main destination: Asolance. A few, however, did give me a second pause for a further look due to my clothing, but perhaps they sensed danger, and thus quickly looked away, not wanting to grab the attention of a strange, hooded man with a shabby, short sword strapped to his back.

I paused to inspect the forest road I was on, where only a little more stretch of walking would be needed before the clearing would be reached. It was disappointing, but there was not even a hint of anything that would suggest that my father and I had been murdered here by a party of goblins and dark elves.

Not even a grave, a written litany, or even a marker to show the dozens of people who had died here. I suppose it was only logical, though. Putting a grave or a marker that suggested death on this widely-used road would only deter merchants and other tradesmen. Death was bad business, except for the undertakers and graveyard keepers.

There was nothing to keep me here any longer, so I traced the road, walking toward the clearing, and passing it to reach the city.

Asolance. It was one of the largest cities in Shail Kingdom. Known for its specialization in clothing, spices, hides, armor, and weapons, the city was truly impressive with its high, scaling walls that would deter even the most determined army. The two entrance gates to the city were opened with many people going in and going out in each respective gate. In the gate where the people were going in, there were many guards and scribes keeping track of the newcomers and collecting the six silvers entrance fee.

It would be a tidy sum by the end of the day, judging at the rate of people entering and leaving the city. To just ascribe the status of bustling to this impressive city would have been a measly description.

All of the guards and scribes looked efficient. They were wearing the grey tabards of the Serle family, an image of a proud, majestic wolf displayed at the front for all to see. Nothing had changed in the two and a half years of my human death; this city was still just one of the many estates of the Serle family.

Most of the northern nobles had no chance of competing against the Serle family unless they collectively joined up, but that would never happen. It was one of the unwritten rules of political intrigue that nobles were backstabbing bastards and bitches. Most of them were untrustworthy and power-hungry.

This was true everywhere else in Shail Kingdom, including the western region with its own baron, Guardian of the West and the other two directions with its own respective barons. The main, central region of Shail Kingdom, however, was where the king lived. This kingdom, though small compared to other human kingdoms, was rich due to its abundant natural resources. Taxes, levies, and tithes from nobles were fair due to the competence of the current king of Shail Kindom, so riots and unrest were few and far between.

I lined up behind a fat merchant with his wagon full of spices and hides. I was not the slightest bit worried about paying the six silvers entrance fee. On the way to the city, I had stolen the coin purses from a number of bandits, or at least people who looked like bandits and thieves. I had killed over a dozen of them and my two coin purses were hefty with coppers, silvers and the rare gold coins. And if these bandits had families of their own, there was nothing I could do except offer them my little sympathies.

Life was a fickle whore, coming and going with her attentions straying every moment. Well, not really, but I wanted to justify my killings. It gave me some small amount of amusement in doing so, since I really did not care much for the lives of others, especially ones who were not innocent.

My turn finally came and the guards inspected me as I handed over six silver coins to the nearest scribe.

“You name and take off your cowl,” one of them said in a brusque voice, not the least bit patient.

I decided not to lie. No one would recognize my name, anyway. “Verath,” I told the guard with a voice just loud enough to overcome the noises of the other conversations.

“Your cowl,” one of the other guards reminded, in case I had forgotten in that short moment of time.

I took off my cowl, revealing my unnatural, white hair which reached toward my waist and my piercing, green eyes.

I had to admit though, these entrance guards and scribes had good control over themselves. The only sign that they had reacted to my appearance was a small widening of their eyes. I suppose I wasn't very disappointed by their reactions. After all, with such a myriad of people going in and out of the city everyday, they must have seen their fair share of unnatural appearances.

I started to walk through the entrance, but before I could even take three steps, I was stopped by a burly guard, who looked to be the most senior of them all. His hard, grey eyes met my own piercing green eyes. “A friendly reminder, the use of weapons in the city is forbidden and punishable by death, hanging, or dismembering. Make sure to keep your sword sheathed, good stranger.” Then the guard continued with a sneer, putting more force in his hand on my shoulder. “You will only be allowed to use it at the tournament, that is, if you are participating.”

The guard removed his hand as soon as he had finished telling me his piece. I didn't bother to reply, only walking through the gate without even looking back. I ignored the casual, curious stares from the masses of people, their eyes straying toward my unusual appearance for a moment, before going back to whatever the were doing.

The city-life was fast-paced and the people had no time to spare for gawking at a stranger. An instant or two was only needed to satisfy their curiosity.

I stood there amidst the throngs of people, observing the city of Asolance. It looked as familiar as ever. Not much had changed in the last two and a half years. A few new buildings here and there, but that was all. And perhaps there was also an increase in the population, but that was hard to tell.

And if my human memory serves me correctly, Baron Serle's home was located at the other end of the city. His dwelling should be enormous, consisting of interconnecting, fortified manor houses that numbered half a dozen, making one large castle-like home. His house was designed to intimidate and to impress, swallowing up a considerable portion of the enormous city. It was, without a doubt, the largest building in the city, reflecting his status as a noble and as the ruler of most of the northern region.

Putting that aside, there was something the guard had said that was on my mind. I went up to a street vendor, a tinkerer by the looks of his various wares of pots and pans.

“Hello, good fellow,” I said, trying to be polite, “could you tell me what the tournament is about?”