“So, anyone want to make any bets on if I can get us all in?”
They’d all decided that they should get their mail armour processed before they tried sneaking in. That and sell all the other heavy loot instead of hauling it around.
So Ercole had suggested they take a diversion to the coastal port city of Zúriš. A sizable hub that would surely have a few shops that could handle some armour work. That and with it being so close to the border hopefully enough people there would know Emoran to communicate.
But as they drew closer it became clear to Dyo that cities outside of the Republic were going to be fairly different.
The lower parts of the wall looked like they might have been left over from the times of the Emoran golden age. But their bases had been reinforced and had been built up and up over the years, growing taller and more modern.
Through the gates there also seemed to be quite a different layout, with more timber-framed buildings and less consistency between each house and shop.
But the main thing was the smell. The horrible, horrible smell that emanated from just behind the walls.
But they weren’t in yet. They were just waiting behind a wagon being inspected by the city guards. An inspection that ended with the guards taking a few small coins from the merchant driving it.
“I don’t know Ercole…” Dyo muttered, “Can you speak their language?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re sure we can get in!?”
“Dyo,” he said flatly, “I’m a noble, disrespecting me is disrespecting the kingdom. So, if I can get that that across, we’ll be fine.”
“And if not?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Ah-! It’s moving!”
The cart trundled into the city as the guards beckoned the group forwards. The mail-clad guard stared at the motley group in front of him before speaking a few harsh words in Crajek.
And Dyo could barely understand any of it.
“Emoran?” He stammered.
The guard gave him a look before sighing and turning back to call to his comrades. A short argument breaking out between them until one came forwards.
“Travelers… Do you have anything to declare? And where are you all from?”
Ercole cleared his throat, “We have nothing to declare guardsmen. I am I’m Ercole de Astoria, third son of the Duke of Namisure, I’m here for a stopover on my journey.”
The guards looked between each other, muttering in their own language before the Emoran-speaking one spoke up.
“Right… And who are these then?”
“They’re my guards,” He replied instantly, “The weapons they have are needed to protect me so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give them any trouble for it.”
“And why are you coming here by land? Most travellers from Gaulik come via the sea-“
“I said this is a layover on my travels around this region guard. That is why I am not arriving by ship. Now could you please tell me what sort of toll you seem to be charging here and let me pass.”
The guard’s eyes seemed to widen for a moment, the sudden flick of annoyance finally driving home the point that he was actually dealing with a noble.
“R-Right lord. For the goods you are carrying there is a toll of either ten Brončićs or eight Tucons.”
“Quite the racket you have going on…” Ercole muttered as he brought out eight copper coins, thrusting them into the guard’s hands.
The guard then nodded, moving away to let everyone enter.
“I didn’t know cities charged money to enter.” Dyo sniffed.
“Some do for everyone who enters, some only do it for people with goods, some don’t do it at all. It seems Zúriš likes to charge for goods, though considering that it makes up one of the many trade hubs around this sea, it makes sense. Still cost me a couple of pennies. Hopefully we can pick up more Free state currency around here…”
“About that…” Dyo murmured, “He said you could have paid in Brončićs or Tucons, what’s the difference?”
“Brončićs I believe is the lowest denomination in Crajka, and Tucons are the lowest in the Free States. They’re a group of city-states and their currency is valued amongst traders and travellers. Emoran currency is also valued, but many who follow the Charin sects decry the use of it as supporting pagans. So, as you can imagine, around the continent it isn’t quite as influential as the Republic would like it to be.”
“So, you’ve been carrying around free state currency?”
“That and Emoran. It covers all of my bases.”
Agrippa cleared their throat, “So… Where do we go now?”
Their body was still in their male form as they looked around, side-eyeing everyone going past. As if they thought they’d suddenly tackle them. Even though their rural clothes made them an unappealing target for a robbery.
“Well, we go and find the commercial or metal working quarter, though I doubt this place will have a dedicated metal working quarter.”
“Nor good sewers…” Dyo muttered as he eyed a channel built into the side of the road. A very suspicious and gut-wrenching slop running down it.
“Oh certainly! Not many kings have been particularly invested in keeping that old infrastructure alive when the empire collapsed so we are left with this just terrible stench. Really gives pig farms a run for its money.”
“They could have at least covered it on a day like this!”
“And that costs a fair bit in upkeep. Just remember you two’s good luck Dyo, Hreysti, for those magically fortified bodies.”
“I most certainly am…”
Ercole chuckled slightly before coughing as he sucked in too much of the putrid air.
“So, I think our first point of investigation might be that little amphitheatre over there.”
Dyo looked over at where he pointed. Over there was a slightly decayed, small stone Emoran amphitheatre deeper in the city. But along with the decay and missing façade was an array of colourful tarpaulins over every opening with the tiny specks of people leaning out.
“I-“ Dyo gawped, “I don’t think it’s an amphitheatre anymore…”
“Correct my divine Emoran friend! Not many of them survived outside of the better-protected Emoran cities due to being either burned down or torn apart for building resources. And with the church decrying the games that would usually be thrown in them, along with the lack of resources to throw them on, any survivors outside the Republic were turned into other things. I think this little one here might now be a market luckily for us...”
“It-“
“Don’t worry. It happened several hundred years ago now! That and- uh- I think you’ll find the temples getting torn down to be the biggest issue to your sensi-“
“WHAT!?”
“Don’t worry about it! Just let’s all get moving rather than getting conversationally sidetracked like we usually do!”
“But the temples-!“
“Hundreds of years ago darling, hundreds of years ago…”
The market amphitheatre was certainly a sight to behold from the inside.
The arena had been turned into a central plaza, with stalls lining the wall around it. Above the stands had been turned into a series of terraced mini streets. With access to them via the audience entrance and by stairs built along the arena wall up.
Inside the hops built onto the stands and inside the rat ways bellow them seemed to host everything imaginable. From jewellery crafters, blacksmiths, grocers, carpenters, tailors and many other things besides. Each shop displaying its own colourful signage advertising its wares.
It hadn’t taken all that long for them to find a craftswoman capable of transforming the damaged shirts, coifs and chausses into new armour. The woman had even happily taken the rest as payment for the work along with a few extra coins. All she then needed were some quick measurements, and then they were free to wander. Though she did say she might take a few days to complete the work. But that was perfectly fine.
Shani had stayed behind, talking to them in the two’s slightly broken Emoran. Ercole and Agrippa seemingly went off in the direction of a tailor’s shop.
So that left Hreysti and Dyonaigus alone together, the two of them eventually deciding to scale the market and look out across the city. Hreysti’s rat pet slipping behind him in the shadows as usual, blending in with the occasional one found hiding in crevices in the stonework. Just waiting for a time to scurry out and snatch whatever they could scavenge.
At the top, it was surprisingly quiet. It was also quite a nice view, with the ships going in and out of the enclosed harbour, the sea breeze occasionally rolling in with a faint hint of its smell…
He breathed it in, making sure to do so through his mouth rather than his nose.
“Hreysti?”
“Yeah?”
“You said before the fight that you were going to tell me about your clan…”
He looked down with a sigh, “And you want to ask about it now?”
“Uhh- Yeah… It just came across my mind now that there aren’t that many people around.”
The vampire sniffed, “Fair… I suppose I should fulfil that oath.”
A small chuckle came from Dyo, “I don’t think it’s quite an oath.”
“Every promise is an oath.” He said, looking at Dyo, “So, I came from a clan of vampiric minor Jarls in Noreim. It isn’t like it was back then though, when I went to sleep it seems like I ended up going out for about five hundred years… I think I’ve told you that little bit…”
He sighed.
“Back then, the main way to power and wealth was raiding. The empire had collapsed about three hundred years earlier and the coasts of the north were unable to defend against raids so we just, took from them. From the Isles of Rhwyi to the coast of Neuhderland.”
“I- I think I remember those places.”
“Well, that was our life. Raiding, trading, and fishing. Raiding for loot, trading that loot for things we needed or wanted, and fishing in the downtime. And I was the spare son that’d take the place of my brother if he died, and take ownership over some outlying villages if he didn’t. It was-”
A lump started to form in his throat as he remembered her.
“It was a slave from an Emoran remnant in the Isles that raised me and taught me Emoran.” The lump grew even larger, “I- I’m sorry, I can’t keep talking about it…”
“It’s alright you don’t have to-“
He was cut off. A coarse, chalk-like shout in Crajek echoed behind them, the two whipping around.
Their eyes met a gang of about seven people, all armed in one way or another. Mostly with wooden clubs and knives apart from the man in the centre.
A scar ran up his nose, snaking up it before it went into his eyebrows, separating them with a fleshy mess before ending at his forehead. In his hands was a wooden buckler and a not-so-insignificant odd-looking sword. It looked almost like a knife, but, well, sword-sized and somewhat Falcon-like, but built like a knife. Literally.
The man’s mouth warped into a long smile as he barked a few more Crajek words.
As no response came, he snorted, the smile turning into an exaggerated pout.
“Can’t speak a civilised language then? One of those Emoran-speaking louts?”
Hreysti growled, “What the fuck are you doing here point that oversized fucking knife at me and my friend!?”
The smile returned, “Ah! Good! You seem to understand my words, but not the situation! Well, let me make it clear. Ye are on our turf with one tiny sword between the two of ye and ye haven’t paid up yet. So, I want both of you to give me what I’m fucking owed before I get fucking angry with ye two stupid shit stains.”
WhiteRose-BlueSpace Thank you to my Patreons Mirron and Zero!
“So, anyone want to make any bets on if I can get us all in?”
They’d all decided that they should get their mail armour processed before they tried sneaking in. That and sell all the other heavy loot instead of hauling it around.
So Ercole had suggested they take a diversion to the coastal port city of Zúriš. A sizable hub that would surely have a few shops that could handle some armour work. That and with it being so close to the border hopefully enough people there would know Emoran to communicate.
But as they drew closer it became clear to Dyo that cities outside of the Republic were going to be fairly different.
The lower parts of the wall looked like they might have been left over from the times of the Emoran golden age. But their bases had been reinforced and had been built up and up over the years, growing taller and more modern.
Through the gates there also seemed to be quite a different layout, with more timber-framed buildings and less consistency between each house and shop.
But the main thing was the smell. The horrible, horrible smell that emanated from just behind the walls.
But they weren’t in yet. They were just waiting behind a wagon being inspected by the city guards. An inspection that ended with the guards taking a few small coins from the merchant driving it.
“I don’t know Ercole…” Dyo muttered, “Can you speak their language?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re sure we can get in!?”
“Dyo,” he said flatly, “I’m a noble, disrespecting me is disrespecting the kingdom. So, if I can get that that across, we’ll be fine.”
“And if not?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Ah-! It’s moving!”
The cart trundled into the city as the guards beckoned the group forwards. The mail-clad guard stared at the motley group in front of him before speaking a few harsh words in Crajek.
And Dyo could barely understand any of it.
“Emoran?” He stammered.
The guard gave him a look before sighing and turning back to call to his comrades. A short argument breaking out between them until one came forwards.
“Travelers… Do you have anything to declare? And where are you all from?”
Ercole cleared his throat, “We have nothing to declare guardsmen. I am I’m Ercole de Astoria, third son of the Duke of Namisure, I’m here for a stopover on my journey.”
The guards looked between each other, muttering in their own language before the Emoran-speaking one spoke up.
“Right… And who are these then?”
“They’re my guards,” He replied instantly, “The weapons they have are needed to protect me so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give them any trouble for it.”
“And why are you coming here by land? Most travellers from Gaulik come via the sea-“
“I said this is a layover on my travels around this region guard. That is why I am not arriving by ship. Now could you please tell me what sort of toll you seem to be charging here and let me pass.”
The guard’s eyes seemed to widen for a moment, the sudden flick of annoyance finally driving home the point that he was actually dealing with a noble.
“R-Right lord. For the goods you are carrying there is a toll of either ten Brončićs or eight Tucons.”
“Quite the racket you have going on…” Ercole muttered as he brought out eight copper coins, thrusting them into the guard’s hands.
The guard then nodded, moving away to let everyone enter.
“I didn’t know cities charged money to enter.” Dyo sniffed.
“Some do for everyone who enters, some only do it for people with goods, some don’t do it at all. It seems Zúriš likes to charge for goods, though considering that it makes up one of the many trade hubs around this sea, it makes sense. Still cost me a couple of pennies. Hopefully we can pick up more Free state currency around here…”
“About that…” Dyo murmured, “He said you could have paid in Brončićs or Tucons, what’s the difference?”
“Brončićs I believe is the lowest denomination in Crajka, and Tucons are the lowest in the Free States. They’re a group of city-states and their currency is valued amongst traders and travellers. Emoran currency is also valued, but many who follow the Charin sects decry the use of it as supporting pagans. So, as you can imagine, around the continent it isn’t quite as influential as the Republic would like it to be.”
“So, you’ve been carrying around free state currency?”
“That and Emoran. It covers all of my bases.”
Agrippa cleared their throat, “So… Where do we go now?”
Their body was still in their male form as they looked around, side-eyeing everyone going past. As if they thought they’d suddenly tackle them. Even though their rural clothes made them an unappealing target for a robbery.
“Well, we go and find the commercial or metal working quarter, though I doubt this place will have a dedicated metal working quarter.”
“Nor good sewers…” Dyo muttered as he eyed a channel built into the side of the road. A very suspicious and gut-wrenching slop running down it.
“Oh certainly! Not many kings have been particularly invested in keeping that old infrastructure alive when the empire collapsed so we are left with this just terrible stench. Really gives pig farms a run for its money.”
“They could have at least covered it on a day like this!”
“And that costs a fair bit in upkeep. Just remember you two’s good luck Dyo, Hreysti, for those magically fortified bodies.”
“I most certainly am…”
Ercole chuckled slightly before coughing as he sucked in too much of the putrid air.
“So, I think our first point of investigation might be that little amphitheatre over there.”
Dyo looked over at where he pointed. Over there was a slightly decayed, small stone Emoran amphitheatre deeper in the city. But along with the decay and missing façade was an array of colourful tarpaulins over every opening with the tiny specks of people leaning out.
“I-“ Dyo gawped, “I don’t think it’s an amphitheatre anymore…”
“Correct my divine Emoran friend! Not many of them survived outside of the better-protected Emoran cities due to being either burned down or torn apart for building resources. And with the church decrying the games that would usually be thrown in them, along with the lack of resources to throw them on, any survivors outside the Republic were turned into other things. I think this little one here might now be a market luckily for us...”
“It-“
“Don’t worry. It happened several hundred years ago now! That and- uh- I think you’ll find the temples getting torn down to be the biggest issue to your sensi-“
“WHAT!?”
“Don’t worry about it! Just let’s all get moving rather than getting conversationally sidetracked like we usually do!”
“But the temples-!“
“Hundreds of years ago darling, hundreds of years ago…”
The market amphitheatre was certainly a sight to behold from the inside.
The arena had been turned into a central plaza, with stalls lining the wall around it. Above the stands had been turned into a series of terraced mini streets. With access to them via the audience entrance and by stairs built along the arena wall up.
Inside the hops built onto the stands and inside the rat ways bellow them seemed to host everything imaginable. From jewellery crafters, blacksmiths, grocers, carpenters, tailors and many other things besides. Each shop displaying its own colourful signage advertising its wares.
It hadn’t taken all that long for them to find a craftswoman capable of transforming the damaged shirts, coifs and chausses into new armour. The woman had even happily taken the rest as payment for the work along with a few extra coins. All she then needed were some quick measurements, and then they were free to wander. Though she did say she might take a few days to complete the work. But that was perfectly fine.
Shani had stayed behind, talking to them in the two’s slightly broken Emoran. Ercole and Agrippa seemingly went off in the direction of a tailor’s shop.
So that left Hreysti and Dyonaigus alone together, the two of them eventually deciding to scale the market and look out across the city. Hreysti’s rat pet slipping behind him in the shadows as usual, blending in with the occasional one found hiding in crevices in the stonework. Just waiting for a time to scurry out and snatch whatever they could scavenge.
At the top, it was surprisingly quiet. It was also quite a nice view, with the ships going in and out of the enclosed harbour, the sea breeze occasionally rolling in with a faint hint of its smell…
He breathed it in, making sure to do so through his mouth rather than his nose.
“Hreysti?”
“Yeah?”
“You said before the fight that you were going to tell me about your clan…”
He looked down with a sigh, “And you want to ask about it now?”
“Uhh- Yeah… It just came across my mind now that there aren’t that many people around.”
The vampire sniffed, “Fair… I suppose I should fulfil that oath.”
A small chuckle came from Dyo, “I don’t think it’s quite an oath.”
“Every promise is an oath.” He said, looking at Dyo, “So, I came from a clan of vampiric minor Jarls in Noreim. It isn’t like it was back then though, when I went to sleep it seems like I ended up going out for about five hundred years… I think I’ve told you that little bit…”
He sighed.
“Back then, the main way to power and wealth was raiding. The empire had collapsed about three hundred years earlier and the coasts of the north were unable to defend against raids so we just, took from them. From the Isles of Rhwyi to the coast of Neuhderland.”
“I- I think I remember those places.”
“Well, that was our life. Raiding, trading, and fishing. Raiding for loot, trading that loot for things we needed or wanted, and fishing in the downtime. And I was the spare son that’d take the place of my brother if he died, and take ownership over some outlying villages if he didn’t. It was-”
A lump started to form in his throat as he remembered her.
“It was a slave from an Emoran remnant in the Isles that raised me and taught me Emoran.” The lump grew even larger, “I- I’m sorry, I can’t keep talking about it…”
“It’s alright you don’t have to-“
He was cut off. A coarse, chalk-like shout in Crajek echoed behind them, the two whipping around.
Their eyes met a gang of about seven people, all armed in one way or another. Mostly with wooden clubs and knives apart from the man in the centre.
A scar ran up his nose, snaking up it before it went into his eyebrows, separating them with a fleshy mess before ending at his forehead. In his hands was a wooden buckler and a not-so-insignificant odd-looking sword. It looked almost like a knife, but, well, sword-sized and somewhat Falcon-like, but built like a knife. Literally.
The man’s mouth warped into a long smile as he barked a few more Crajek words.
As no response came, he snorted, the smile turning into an exaggerated pout.
“Can’t speak a civilised language then? One of those Emoran-speaking louts?”
Hreysti growled, “What the fuck are you doing here point that oversized fucking knife at me and my friend!?”
The smile returned, “Ah! Good! You seem to understand my words, but not the situation! Well, let me make it clear. Ye are on our turf with one tiny sword between the two of ye and ye haven’t paid up yet. So, I want both of you to give me what I’m fucking owed before I get fucking angry with ye two stupid shit stains.”
WhiteRose-BlueSpace Thank you to my Patreons Mirron and Zero!
