Unbound

Chapter Three Hundred And Sixty – 360

Chapter Three Hundred And Sixty – 360

Felix walked down the path, his metal boots crunching against the stone and dirt. His silvered greaves remained the same as always, as did his pants and tunic, but over it all he shifted his Garmet to form into a nondescript brown cloak. It was an easy task for the magical item, even when he added a deep hood to it and altered the cloaks details. He made it a touch threadbare and ragged at the edgessomething that had been passed down a couple times, perhaps. It was enough to hide the sword at his waist and divert a little attention. The others donned cloaks and hats of their own, wide-brimmed things designed to shade from the sun.

They had split into discrete teams, with Felix, Vess, Zara, and a Converged Pit all taking the lead. The majority of their forces had begun the slow process of circling around the town, angling through muddy waters for the Pass beyond. The Dawnguard scouts had identified a few paths that led to the break in the Stormeaters, but most were barricaded or had a token smattering of Paladins guarding them. Only one remained that would serve, and it was in such disrepair that traversing it would be truly foolish had they not several among them who could shape ice, however crudely. Darius had taken charge of that effort, which left Evie and Harn and Atar and Alister to lead two more teams to retrieve food and water for their journey.

At first Felix was worried that they would stick out like a sore thumb in the swampy Hills, and chose to stagger their three teams approach. That turned out to be unnecessary, as stragglers were flooding the main causeway leading to Bogfeld's gate. Felix and his people slipped in among them, careful to keep their heads down and go with the flow. He saw many were sporting grisly wounds, and some of the worst were being pulled along on crude litters.

"Siva's mercy," Vess whispered. "All of these people were stuck outside during the monster attack?"

She was clearly right, as muted conversation among the crowd confirmed. Felix heard more than a few snippets of aggrieved rage, blaming everyone from the blind gods to the Knights of Tevin that supposedly protected the area.

"Who or what's Tevin?" Felix asked the women.

"Prince of Tevin, the supposed leader of this portion of the Ghreldan Hills," Zara explained. "Though he does not control much at all."

"You said that before. Why?"

"The Hills are too big to rule properly, too wild," Vess explained. "The little I know of the Thousand Princes is that they are constantly warring over the tiniest slices of the overall Territory, with none of them ever able to gain a solid upper-hand."

"So these Knights are agents of Tevin," Felix said. "Would they be on our side or the Paladins'?"

Zara shook her head. "Their own. The Hierocracy has many enemies, but the Princes would not dare to challenge their authority. Not unless they had a significant advantage."

"So they're cowards," he said as they shuffled forward.

"Not everyone is so powerful that they'd throw themselves at a greater power," Zara said. "Or so foolhardy."

Felix clenched his jaw, ready to retort, but the crowd swelled and pressed closer. The gates were just ahead, fifty foot double doors that were only just barely held open. Two Knights stood at the gate, directing traffic as folks poured into the town.

"In in! If you need healin' then go to the priory. If you need food, markets open! No violence inside, or else we'll thonk you good and toss you in the undercroft!"

The Knight repeated that, varying the words now and then, but always the same gist. Healing, food, and punishment. The folk around him gave him nods of acceptance before disappearing into the busy streets of Bogfeld.

Felix Eyed them both, noting their levels of 74 and 65 respectively, and that they were both in the late stages of Journeyman Tier. Their armor, burnished and dark, was made of a series of forged strips that overlapped across their chests and shoulders, and appeared to provide a significant amount of protection. It even had a full helm, covering all but a narrow slash by their eyes. Teasing items from a person's being had always been difficult for Felix, but he pressed, forcing Voracious Eye's pattern to sing ever louder.

Name: Chevalier Mail

Type: Armor (enchanted)

Lore: Designed by a Prince of Tevis six hundred years ago, these suits of armor are said to be able to withstand two entire blows from a Master Tier opponent. Against creatures of an equal Tier it is more than remarkably resilient, and enhances the Strength of those that wear it.

Voracious Eye is level 74!

It was Journeyman Tier armor, he could feel, and both Knights exuded a sense of solidity that Felix didn't want to test. He wasn't always foolhardy.

They moved forward, finally reaching the gate and the Knights waved them in without fanfare or fuss.

"Alright, we need to find" Zara began saying, when Felix heard a yelp of surprise.

Behind them, a spear crossed Vess' path, the Knight attached to it peering at her curiously through the slits in his helm. He reached out and grasped a corner of Vess' cloak. "Mighty fine cloak there, little lady. Mighty fine."

Vess looked at the man, shocked and clearly at a loss. Her Spirit smoldered in anger. "Let go of me," she demanded.

The Knight didn't, but instead rubbed the fabric in his fingertips and smacked his lips. "What's a lady like you, with a cloak so fine, doin' in Bogfeld?"

Vess snatched her cloak out of the Knight's hands, much to his surprise. "My own business, thank you very much."

The Knight drew himself up, his burnished armor glinting in the midday sun. "That business involves Bogfeld, and that means it's my business. What are you doing here, woman?"

"We're here for healing!" Felix interrupted, drawing the Knight's ire down on himself. He grabbed Zara by the shoulders and she tensed under his hands. "My mother, here, is quite ill. So my wife and I are taking her to the priory. To be healed. Of the illness."

There was a beat of silent confusion all around, though Felix silently begged them all to understand. Thankfully, he did not wait in vain.

"I-I need to sit," Zara coughed. A rasping, awful sound came from her chest and throat, so bad that Felix had a pang of worry. "I am feeling faint again, boy."

"Of course, Mother. Please, if you'll excuse us."

Felix took hold of Vess' arm and Zara's shoulder, steering the both of them into the town and out of the queue. He took streets at random, pushing further into the maze of back alleys and side streets, practically dragging the other two along with him. He did not stop until he was sure the Knights had lost sight of them, his Perception telling him that they never once left their post at the gate.

"Okay, II think we're good, now," Felix said, peering back the way they'd come. "We"

"Wife?" Vess asked, sharply. "Bold of you, Lord Nevarre."

"Oh," he chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry, it was"

"Mother?" Zara said, even more acerbically.

"It was the first thing I could think of!" Felix said, before frowning at the warbling giggle he felt through his bond. "Shut it, you. Everyone's a critic, even my magic bird-dog. We got in, and that's what matters right?"

Vess and Zara exchanged cryptic looks and, as one, began walking down the alley.

Pit trilled joyfully, high and loud across their bond.

"What? It worked!"

"What'll it be?"

Harn looked up from his study of the room and flashed a smile at the bartender as she approached. She was pretty enough, as curvy as he usually like them, but that didn't hold his attention this time around. He nodded to a large cask behind her, tapped and ready to serve. On its side, it was easily the height of a large Human.

"I'm lookin' for some ale," he said.

"Ah well, we've got ale aplenty," the bartender said, shrugging her shoulders in a way that affected her blouse in...interesting ways. She grinned. "But you look like a man with a real thirst for more than just ale."

"You're right," Harn said, and he reached to his waist and pulled out a pouch of weight coin. The woman's eyes lit up. "How much for the cask?"

"Oh ho, a man after my own heart," she said, pressing a hand against her chest. "The whole cask, eh? You headed into the Expanse?"

"Couldn't say. Employer only told me what we needed. Been tight lipped about all else, the whoreson," Harn lied glibly. "Just need food and drink, as much as our team can carry." He gestured back, toward where the Legionnaires were seated around a pair of tables. Evie was at their head, frowning.

"I've got that and more," she said, before extending a hand to him. "I'm Palin. I own this place."

Harn shook her hand. "Harn. A nice setup, this."

He wasn't blowing smoke up her ass, either; Harn could appreciate a good tavern, having grown up in one. The sawdust floors, the older, well-worn furniture, even the bookshelves he spotted along the hearth, all of it pointed at a place used more for joyful entertainment than wild abandon. He'd picked the Lamia's Lament out of a line-up of dozens of others, all of them much the same on the outside, save that the Lament had just received a shipment of exactly what he was looking for; ale enough to last the hot sands of the south.

"Thank you. If you're headed anywhere, you'll likely want more than simple ale," Palin said. Without looking she filled a glass with a dark, amber ale and slid it down the counter. Someone exclaimed in joy.

Harn grunted, impressed. "What do you have in mind?"

"It's Bread Ale. A Dwarven recipe my mum passed down to me, and it's more filling than water and road rations. No matter where you go, it's the right choice."

"Bread Ale, huh? Beginner Tier?" Harn asked.

Palin scoffed. "What am I? A child? No it's Apprentice Tierstrong enough to give your boys a solid buzz but not enough to impair them. Less I miss my guess, your men are well above Apprentice." She spread her hands. "What do you think? I've got a ten barrels you can have for, say, eighty swords."

Pricey, Harn grunted.

Youd be clearing out my stock. Takes two months to get that back, she said. Thats a steal.

Harn tapped the counter. "Let me try a mug."

Palin grinned. "Aye, sir." She ducked into the back of the tavern, behind a heavy door.

Given a moment alone, Harn's smile grew. He had missed talking with normal folk about normal things. Too much of his time lately had been spent fighting monsters in the woods and conversing with adventurers twice as crazy as he wasit was nice to get out, even for a few hours, and just buy some ale.

Now, technically, Felix had asked for water. But ale had water in it aplenty, and it wasn't going to be particularly strong. Not for anyone beyond Apprentice Tier, at least, and that was everyone in their company.

And if it can feed an empty belly as well as wet our whistles? Well that's a smart deal, far as I'm concerned.

The tavern was getting fairly full, folks drinking the edge off now that the monster attack had died down. A minstrel had started tuning his harp at the far end of the bar, and the common room was awash in the murmurs of a hundred different conversations. A good amount of chatter focused on the attacks; how many died, who was wounded, and how ineffective the battlements at the Pass was proving to be.

Harn found a remarkable amount of peace at the forge, but a tavern had a similarif differentsense of atmosphere. Had he not been on a mission, it would have been a truly relaxing time.

The door slammed open, silencing the rising voices, and even the minstrels harp twanged in an off key spasm. Filling the threshold were a number of towering figures in crimson armor and crested helmets that brushed the lintel as they stepped within.

Paladins. Harn held back a growl of distaste, the sense of them bright and hot and bitter, like burning ashes. His eyes flicked to Evie, but to her credit she just lounged harder than before, though her eyes kept track of the three burly men.

Palin returned to the bar with a stout mug filled with an appetizing amount of foam and set it hastily down on the countertop. Sir Noxum. How might I be of service?

The Paladin in the lead removed his crested helm, revealing a startlingly young looking man with a sharp chin and two scars across his left eyebrow. He smiled, and Harn didnt need to any Affinity or whatever to know it wasnt good tidings on his Mind.

Palin. Please. Ive told you to call me Gregis. A beauty such as yours shouldnt need to use honorifics.

Palin smiled, but her arms crossed in front of her chest. Gregis, then. How might I help you?

Weve come for our standard order, the Paladin said.

Of course, the tavernkeep nodded to a Dwarven woman near the hearth. She stood, along with six others and went into the back room. My workers will load up your wagon.

Ah, that will not be enough this time. Its thirsty work, up at the Pass. Gregis spread his hands helplessly and his smile turned regretful. We will be requisitioning all of your stock.

Palin frowned, folded arms going to her generous hips. "You'll be doin' no such thing! Yarl, go tell the ladies to stop the loading process!"

The minstrel clutched his harp to his chest and scurried away, following the Dwarven women into the back. Gregis Noxum stepped forward, the mass of him more than capable of looming over the relatively short tavernkeep. "That is an unwise decision, Palin. You know who protects this town from the undead of the Pass. Who controls this town."

Palin shook, her rage easy to read as much as her fear. She glanced around, noting that none of her patrons bothered looking up from their mugs and tables. Only Harn stared, but he tried to leash himself, to let things play out. They weren't supposed to get involved in a ruckus, not if they could help it. He cast a glance at his people, most of whom were clenching their fists angrily, chief among them Evie who was viciously digging her dagger into the table.

Dont be stupid, girl, he thought. Harn wasn't entirely sure who he meant, warrior or tavernkeep, but it didn't matter. If either one acted now, it'd get ugly real fast.

"As you wish, Gregis," Palin finally grated out. Harn felt a knot loosen in his gut. "If that will be all?"

"Ah, see? We could come to an arrangement, couldn't we? Have that all delivered to the battlements by the end of the day, and your little...outburst will be forgotten." Gregis smiled, just as boyishly charming as when he'd arrived, despite the clear threat. "Next time, simply listen, woman. It will be easier for all involved, hm?"

Without another word, he turned in a flare of cloak and clanking armor, his two cronies following him out.

Palin was shaking when she returned to the bar, having sent another runner after her people. Harn couldn't decide if she was scared or furious, but from their conversation he was certain this was not the first time something like this had happened. He took a long, slow pull from his mug. It was good, and felt just as filling as she had promised.

"It's good, this ale. Pity that armored twit is takin' all of it," Harn said.

The tavernkeep let out a surprised huff. "Watch how loudly you wag that tongue, stranger. The Paladins don't take kindly to...anything, really."

Harn shrugged. "Dealt with worse than them in my day. But it's a real shame, losin' out on a drink like this." He smacked his lips appreciatively and eyed the dark brew. "Took em to the battlements, they said. Why?"

She sighed, frustration draining from her tone, replaced by bitterness. "They've taken over the guard posts once manned by Tevin's Knights. Thought it was good news, at first." She barked a laugh. "Knights could hardly stop those undead from clamberin' over the walls. The Paladins have at least stopped the constant raiding...but instead we get this." She spat onto the floor. "Burning ash, they can go rot before I'll send them my brew."

"Perhaps we could come to an arrangement, then." Harn leaned over his mug and lowered his voice. "Tell me about these battlements."