They began to move again, and as the three boys were passing by the giant, he looked at them and greeted them with a smile and a nod. They automatically responded by doing the same, though their 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 Garret,” he said cheerfully. The three boys wanted to say something in retort, but couldn’t think of anything witty.
They went under the gate, and as soon as the party was within the castle walls, the large gate came down and was locked into place. The boys 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 Thoma’s expression. He could somehow sense their desperation and sadness as though he 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,” Thoma retorted. “I feel as though one day I’ll be able to help them, and the fact that I can't currently do anything about it at the moment makes me angry,” he said, furrowing his 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. 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?” Thoma 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,” Thoma nodded.
Thoma 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 by Thoma, but he guessed that they were commenting on their armor and general appearance.
The sound of their hooves resonated down the small alleys that ran perpendicular to the main street, and small children ran 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.
They continued down the street without speaking for the most part, but when they 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 Thoma finally decided to ride up to his brother’s side. “Do you think we’ll be allowed to leave our quarters?” he asked.
“Not sure about you, but I’m definitely getting myself something strange,” Bernar replied. The moment the last word had left his mouth, he 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… place?”, Thoma asked, knowing his brother’s 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.
“Are you sure about that?” Roburn chimed in from the side opposite to Thoma. “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 Thoma. “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. Thoma had a classical, confused look on his face at the word ‘illnesses’. “You mean they’ve got some kind of plague?” he asked with genuine concern in his voice. Both Roburn and Bernar simply laughed and said nothing.
They neared the main palace, and young boys 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.
Thoma and the others were in awe at the sight now before them. 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 - with the exception of the Master, Garett, Roburn, and Bernar - looked about in awe. Behind the fence they 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. Thoma looked over at Batch and he shot him a look as if to say “I know. I want their armor, too.”
“Do you know what those two, large flags are, Thoma?” Roburn asked. The boy shook his head. 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 too rough to talk to. 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. Overhead hung the flags Roburn had mentioned. 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.
They neared the main stairway, and finally got a closer look at the guards in their armor. “Magnificent work, isn’t it?”, Bernar said looking back at his brother and two friends who nodded vigorously. “It really is extraordinary,” Thoma said with his eyes wide as they could be. “For them to be standing there like that, their armor must be light,” Thoma 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.
“Yes,” Master Garett said. “You see, they have special techniques for making armor light and strong. Not only that, but a single piece of armor might last you a lifetime, if you take care of it properly,” he continued. “They’re certainly not cheap. I’d wager a breastplate is about two-thousand crescents,” he said with a bit of uncertainty. The boys’ jaws dropped. “T-two-thousand?”, Irun chimed in with eyes as wide as Thoma’s.
“It’s an investment Coltend is willing to make. After all, it is the central trading hub for all four countries,” Master Garett said. “But we haven’t seen anything that would suggest as much,” Batch said curiously. “Yet,” Master Garett replied. The boys looked at each other and shrugged.
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