045 – The Mage Who Cried INVADER

The next morning, Caspian started out as soon as he was packed. Steven had to hurry to follow. Abey was a bit perplexed, as she had returned to their camp after Caspian and Steven had gone to bed. Abey tied Miri to a cart and marched ahead with Steven, soon catching up to Caspian. Caspian was going faster than he normally went, and Cyrril was clutching to his shoulder, looking forward.

This side of the city of Veradale was walled around its perimeter, except where new construction was happening. Towers of stone demarked distance and corners along the outer walls. The color of the stone was mostly a gray-white, but a few streaks of other color dashed through it. Steven was impressed with how tall the structures were further north; here he could see where work crews were removing the soil to the bedrock. On exposed bedrock they were carving directly into the stone. Instead of quarrying, they were sculpting the rock. The removed rock was carved out, shaped, stacked and locked into the structure; it only moved far enough to go from where the passage would go to the wall of said passage. Or it was taken further out and added to the buildings or bridges between them, covering the area before the hills on the small part of the plains the city encroached on. The word ‘arcology’ came to mind as Steven tried to unify the architectural design style to an approximate analog to his own experience. He recognized elements used by Greek, Roman, Gothic, and a handful of other styles in a uniform style that he just could not put a word to, except maybe ‘local.’ The road led up to the middle of the city wall and a gate there.

The Gate had a small built out tower on either side with arrow slits at the ground floor, and crenellated barbican on the top three floors above. Heavy looking wooden doors opened out from the wall. The Guards manning the gate were in maile hauberks over red tunics, each with either a mace or spear at hand. A clerk was also there with a hand-desk recording the traffic.

Caspian approached the clerk, presuming her to be the best place to start. “Ma’am. Who do I need to talk to, to warn of an approaching threat?”

She looked up from finishing her notes about the wagon that had just entered. She looked Caspian’s road-dirty appearance over, noted his staff and Cyrril. Then she looked back to her notes, with mild irritation at being interrupted. “Tell the constables. Do you have any goods or materials to declare?”

Caspian tried again. “Yes, that there is a wagon train coming in from the next road east that I think is actually an attacking army.”

Steven noticed that all the half dozen or so guards around perked up, and looked at each other, but otherwise did not react.

The clerk continued. “Tell it to the constables. If you don’t have any cargo to declare the entrance fee is one copper per person in your party. Drop it in the box and be on your way.”

Cyrril sat up on Caspian’s shoulder. “Fine, where do I find the constables?”

“Get in a fight. Pay the box, move along. You are backing up traffic.”

Steven and Abey looked around. The closest traffic was a wagon coming out the other direction. Steven noticed that the shadow of a portcullis played across the wagon as it rolled through the gate.

Caspian looked around and surveyed the guards. One with an armband the others did not have was standing near by, and all the others looked at him. Caspian turned and stepped to him.

Before Caspian could speak, he motioned with his mace to the box on a short podium. “Pay the fee and move along. Keep the road clear, and don’t go spreading rumors.”

This frustrated Caspian further. He looked the guards here over. They proverbially closed ranks as they all stood, armed, and looking at Caspian, and Steven and Abey.

Steven simply kept his one hand on his crossbow strap and the other at his side. Abey simply got two coppers from her belt and took Steven’s arm and walked in, dropping her coins as she went past the box.

Cyrril was fanning and hissing at the guards, from Caspian’s shoulder. Finally Caspian also dug out a coin slapped it into the box and caught up with Abey and Steven.

“What now?” Abey asked, as she watched the world around her.

Steven noticed she was dressed not for travel; she wore her leather tunic and belt, her trousers, fingerless gauntlets, boots, and every knife she owned, and it looked like a few that were borrowed. Somewhere she had borrowed a short sword that hung at her left hip.

Caspian started into the city proper. “If I can’t find a constable that will take me seriously, I will go look for that other company by myself. I just hope I do not end up in jail for this.”

For his part, Steven was not in full kit. He had left his coat and bag where Abey left her stuff, on the wagon that Miri was tied to. He had his poncho on, with his cloak over that, his crossbow across his back outside the cloak, and his sword at his hip. His red flannel shirt would have stuck out badly, so he wore a dun colored local shirt he had picked up. As always he had his booney hat on.

Caspian stomped off into the city, looking for a constable. He did not have to go far, but these played as dumb as the guards did. So Caspian asked which way to the gate for the road the other caravan was to come in on. Once he knew that, he stomped in that direction.

Steven’s proverbial antennas were pricked, as he followed Caspian. He noticed that the City Guard was out in force. Also the gaze of the locals hanging on his sword and crossbow, their being notable but not unremarkable, compared to most of the people not conspicuously carrying weapons.

They got to the other outer gate, and Caspian turned aside into an alley the block before the gate and wall. Here he grabbed them, muttered a spell and leapt up about twenty five meters by Steven’s estimation, to land on the parapet of the structure there. To Steven’s surprise it was a porch, with a bridge that crossed to every adjoining building, and an entrance to the one they stood on.

Caspian let go and strode over to where he could look out at the road in the valley and farmland beyond. Steven followed and pulled his binoculars from their pouch. He looked down the road, and soon saw a caravan.

“I see what I think is them. I guess they are less than half an hour out.” Steven put the glasses down. Then turned and looked over the city with them. For a moment, he thought he should see trebuchet’s mounted on towers, and an old man in a white cloak riding a white horse without a saddle or bridle up and down the stairs shouting battle orders. He did see a few trebuchets, catapults and ballista about the walls, but only what he what he would call a light defensive array, with room for significantly more. Turning from those positions on the wall below he was able to identify likely positions on the city about him, and realized that this city properly equipped would be a terror to lay siege to.

“Well,” Steven started. “I will say this. While this city is not on an apparent war footing, an army would have to move really fast in order to get through the land of this kingdom, before the city could fortify itself.”

Abey was awed by the city, never having been here before, but Steven noticed her attitude seemed to mostly be that she was along for the ride, waiting for the excitement to happen.

As Steven looked around, he looked south, and saw The Wolves caravan. “I can see the Wolves entering the city now, but I do not see any walkers. Looks like most are on the wagons, on top of the cargos, or the roofs of the domestic ones, and I guess the rest are inside or on them. Can’t see much more than that from here.”

They stayed and watched as the caravan that bothered them moved into the gates, and was passed through. It rolled past under the bridge they stood on. As Steven watched, he felt like he was also being watched. But every time he looked around, all he could see were locals going about their business. He could spot the city guard in their helmets and chainmail coats over red tunics. The constables looked like the guard, but with a red tabard over a mail shirt. As Steven watched he saw a few more reds show up here and there, but not near the road this caravan traveled.

The caravan rolled along the street below them for several blocks, then the road came to an intersection at the base of the hill, and the caravan turned right. Steven counted thirty four wagons. As he mentioned this to Caspian, he commented that he had counted six men per wagon at the camp. This gave them about two hundred men; not enough to attack the city, but enough to sneak in and maybe seize some critical area, and get out alive, or even take the throne and assert power, or chaos, long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

As the tail of the caravan disappeared, Caspian turned to follow it. Steven heard something below, and turned to see the city gates closing, and a portcullis swing down to back the doors. The crowds that had been around the gate and supporting area disbursed to elsewhere. Caspian ran off parallel to the caravan’s course, and at the next block he again saw the tail. Steven and Abey followed several dozen meters behind. Caspian turned a corner to get closer charging along the balconies and bridges contiguous to this level of the city, matching the streets on the ground below.

Steven followed Caspian, deeper into the city. He was alternately impressed with the construction and amount of light there was, and doing his best to keep up with the mage running through it. Abey kept pace with Steven, though also visibly beginning to break a sweat.

The disturbing caravan disbursed across the city as it went. Here the three of them saw two wagons going a different direction; there two more took a different road. The main group continued, heading generally north and up in the city. The caravan had climbed to the same level the three were on by the time the main group was seen again. Caspian looked around and again grabbed Steven and Abey and used magic to leap up two more levels in the city. This got them nasty looks from some pedestrians as they almost landed on them.

They trotted across the level they were on, to a point where they could look over and down the two levels to the market square below them. Steven noticed that the levels were not uniform in how filled out they were. To the side of the market was a light well down to the ground. Beside and above them was a vault set for a roadway on the level above where the three stood.

Twenty wagons entered the market, fourteen maneuvered to park and ‘set up.’ Six clustered at the entrance end, the other eight took spots further up the market and two actually on the road out. The last six continued on from this market.

Caspian was torn. “Wonderful. Do we follow, or do we stay?”

Abey beat Steven to the mark. “What tactics are you thinking of?”

“Capture the leader, and with any luck the locals will finally listen.” Caspian watched the wagons.