“Well, Sir Thorsen, I thank you for the welcome, but must bid you farewell, grateful for the hospitality as I am,” the Master said with an air of respect as he flipped the apple in the air. Thorsen gave a slight bow in response. “I take it you know your way to the palace, Master?” Thorsen sensed, his eyes darting across the Master’s features and confident posture. “I do, indeed. Thank you for your concern,” the Master replied.

As we moved through the massive gate, we passed by the giant, nearly a half-head taller than we were, even on horseback. He looked at us briefly, noting our equipment and any accolades we might have had, greeting us with a smile and a firm nod. We immediately felt we had no other option but to automatically respond by doing the same, though our smile was more of a nervous one than anything else.

Bernar saw the exchange and chuckled. “Never seen such unruly boys put in their place so quickly by anyone other than the Master or Garett,” he said cheerfully. I knew I felt the need to say something witty in retort, but failed to think of anything in the moment.

As soon as the last few of our group went under the gate, the large gate came down and was quickly locked into place. Batch, Irun and I began to look around at the nearby houses, where a few doorways began to allow inquisitive eyes through the cracks.

Coltend Castle had a social system where the common folk and the upper class were drastically separated. The common folk had to plough and till the land surrounding the castle to make ends meet, whilst the rich simply sat back and paid next to nothing for the commoners’ hard work. The housing differential was so great that the small wooden shacks, or the poorly built brick and straw houses were but a stone's throw away from each other, and that upset many of the rich.

They would often complain about the filthiness of the poor, who could be seen throwing their buckets of piss and shit out of the window in the early mornings. The younger children would attempt to see if they could hit a ‘Big Belly’, their term for a tax collector, with a clump of shit as they made their rounds.

They rarely missed.

Along the main street, countless beggars leaned on the walls of the houses, begging for alms and donations to feed their empty bellies. Their cups and cracked wooden bowls were empty. “Even with all of the riches of Coltend, nothing means more to them than a person stooping down to place a single coin in their cups,” Bernar said, noting my expression. My dour expression, apparently, could somehow show that I sensed their desperation and sadness as though I were in their position.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Bernar began. “Feeling sorry for them won't do you much good in the long run,” his brother said. “But I can't help it,” I retorted. “I feel as though one day I’ll be able to help them, and the fact that I can't do anything about it at the moment makes me angry,” I said, furrowing my brow.

“You’ve always had a good heart and attitude,” Bernard said. “Hold on to it while you still can. Seeing enough of the world how it really is might change you,” he began with a heavy sigh. “However, if you can hold on to that level of empathy, then you’ll be the strongest of us all,” he finished his sentence and noticed it was taken to heart.

“So, you're telling me you don’t care about other people. Is that it?” I asked after a brief pause. “I still care about a few people. You and the Master are two I can name off the top of my head, at least,” Bernar said sarcastically. “Ah, I see. A little cold-hearted, but I think I get it” I nodded.

I began to look around and observe the filth and grime on their faces - the days of accumulated dirt under their fingernails during their days plowing and tilling fields could be seen from a few meters away. Their whispers couldn't be heard through the cacophony of the street, but I could guess that they were commenting on our armor and general appearance.

The sound of our hooves resonated down the small alleys that ran perpendicular to the main street, and small children ran to the roadside to see what all the commotion was about. Pointing and staring were amongst the most common actions, while whispers and giggles were a close second from some of the older girls. Irun and Batch noted a few who seemed to be their own age. “Don’t even think about it…” Garett said quietly toward the pair, destroying their hopes.

Bernar and I stifled a laugh when we saw their faces.

We continued down the street without speaking for the most part, but when we reached the general market place, it was teeming with busy shopkeepers, angry shoppers, and show animals being kept in place by their trainers. There was so much to look at that I finally decided to ride up to his brother’s side, knowing my idiot self would get sidetracked and, consequently, lost.

“Do you think we’ll be allowed to leave our quarters?” I asked, pushing Celer up to my brother’s side. “Not sure about you, but I’m definitely getting out of there,” Bernar replied with a shit-eating grin.

The moment the last word had left his mouth, I noticed a red haired prostitute, wearing little more than a corset and stockings, was standing on the balcony of a two-story house which had been laced with red ribbons. “And that’s likely the place I’ll be all night,” he said with his head nodding in the building’s general direction.

“You’re sure you’ll have the coin for an all night expedition with every woman in that… establishment?” I asked, knowing my brother’s nearly insatiable lust for women. “Believe me, little brother,” he began. “Soon as I’m done with the first, the rest will give me a discount after they hear what I’ve done,” he said confidently.

I heard Isla groan in disgust as soon as she understood what he meant, but I could only give her a tight-lipped, awkward smile.

“Are you sure about that?” Roburn chimed in from my right side. “I’ve heard stories about the ones here,” he said as if he had more knowledge than he cared to share. “I suppose you’d know all about them. You might even be the cause of a few of those stories,” Bernard said with a wry smile. Roburn chuckled and turned to me with a sly smile on his face. “You know, I would take you along with me, so I could show you the ones to avoid, at least. They’ve been known to not be clear of the… illnesses,” he said with a hush on the last word.

“You mean they’ve got some kind of plague?” I asked with genuine concern in his voice. “More like a sort of rot, but sure, we’ll go with that,” both Roburn and Bernar simply laughed, refusing to elaborate any further.

We neared the main palace and were shocked at the sight of the gate. Two golden griffins facing each other loomed over the main gate. The scarlet cloth hung from the top the ivory imbued gate; the intricate designs portraying the beasts crushing the moons on each door. The Master raised his hand, a signal to the gatekeeper, who looked out over the edge, and called out to open the doorway. Two guardsmen pulled on massive levers which, through ingenious mechanisms, made opening the gate easier than one would think. The giant doors swung open with fluency and grace, without making much of a noise.

The others and I were in awe at the sight now before us as well. Tall pine trees lined the sides of the road. Beneath the trees, a fence of interwoven roots had been formed, as though the trees themselves were connected to each other. The street was made of smooth granite slabs, each carved and covered in resin to keep it smooth. Seen from above, the pattern formed the Griffin of Coltend with its wings spread.

All of us, with the exception of the Master, Garett, Roburn, and Bernar, of course, looked about in awe. Behind the fence we saw fountains and a large open garden with fair maidens picking strawberries from the bushes. Their long, red dresses had their hems trimmed just enough to not drag along the floor.

Down the road a little ways, the doors to the main palace could be seen, with a score of guardsmen on either side. Their gear looked a little less garnished than Thorsen’s had been, but they were all equally well-equipped. Each man stood on a single step of the stairway that led into the main Palace. I looked over at Batch, who shot me a look as if to say I know. I want their armor, too.

“Do you know what those two large flags are, I?” Roburn asked. I shook my head. Even with the lessons I'd had growing up, there was limited information on such boring stuff like flags. “Those are the flags of the Church of Mideia, and the Warrior’s Guild,” he began. “The Church is a nasty bunch to deal with, but the Guild, if I’m being honest, isn’t anywhere near as rough. They can at least hold a civil conversation without feeling the need to spout some insults about us,” he continued, catching himself from spitting on the ground.

The stairway had a long carpet running all the way down in a strip to the base, while the flags Roburn had mentioned earlier hung overhead. The Church showed its colors of green and the image of a person reaching out for help to a serpent that hung between a sword and a staff in the shape of a cross. The Warlords Guild - also well known as the Barracks - hung their standard of an ox and a blade linked together by a chain on a blue background.

The remaining flags were of those of the neighboring cities and villages which the castle would attend to, and each proudly showed their colors and markings. Some were rather obscure, others entirely offensive. Nevertheless, the castle had always wanted to prove that they were unified no matter what, so even the offensive flags were shown.

As we neared the main stairway, we finally got a closer look at the guards in their armor. “Magnificent work, isn’t it?” Bernar asked, looking back at the three of us who nodded vigorously. “It really is extraordinary,” I said with my eyes as wide as they could be. “For them to be standing there like that for hours and hours on end like that is impressive. Either they’re extremely well disciplined, or their armor must be lighter than it looks,” I suggested.

“You have a point there, Thoma,” Master Garett began. “Their armor is forged under the supervision of a master smith, who just so happens to be an elf,” he said matter of factly. “An elf?” Batch asked, as though he hadn’t quite heard it correctly.