It
finally came into view, as the crest of the hill fell before them.
The huge walls of the Trade Palace of North Boundary stood on the
horizon. Lord's knew why they were called Palaces. They were more
like ramshackle forts, built back up to serve as a stopping point for
merchants on their way to bigger cities. In this case between the
great cities of Harhast and Grey Peak, in east and north
respectively. The two of the most prominent cities of the North
Boundary, the declassified lands of the once great kingdom of
Karresslia, now split in two by the sons of the late King. Brothers
warring over who was rightful to the throne once their father had
passed.
Merchants
had decided long before he was born there should be neutral ground,
where all could meet and trade goods, where swords would be laid down
and no blood be shed and the only god would be profit. The concept
was agreed on and these shrines to the lord of all, money, were
erected upon sites across all the lands. They were called the Trade
Palaces and they were a huge sprawling mess of shops and hawkers,
inns and brothels, princes and beggars. Peace was kept in the walls
by the House of Coin, specially trained guard who watched over the
people within and stopped any trouble with deadly force. Here was the
destination of the small party.
Garett
looked back over the caravan following his horse. He led a broken
band of Roamer, the nomads from the south, and a caravan of goods,
bare half what they'd set out with. The guards they'd hired had
turned out to be a gang of bandits from the Halfway Hills, near the
White River. They'd put up a fight, but Garett's men were more than
up to the task of beating them back. Since then, they'd moved off the
roads, leaving some of the less precious cargo behind for the filth,
in hopes they'd give up the chase. He'd failed to mention in the
contract what they were truly transporting, and if the bandit's had
found out it could've been terrible for Garett and his men. Bringing
such contraband into the land without a king was seen as a grave
offence. An affront to either of the brothers, who would pay
handsomely for the capture of the carrier.
Wiping
the sweat from his face with the back of his arm, he wondered once
more why he'd taken this on. He had no love for witches, but he found
it hard to say no to a fellow Roamer. Even one who had set up a home
in the north. Even more so one who indulged in dark arts and black
magic. Roamers did what their name suggested. They never settled.
They were constantly on the move, whether it was with their animals,
or trading, or just keeping ahead of the seasons. Some settled down,
stopped their life on the road. Garett didn't treat these as he would
other Roamers. Sure they had the tattoos and the traditional dress,
but he felt sceptical of people who stayed still to long.
He
turned to see Robert ride to the fore, away from the cart being
driven by Kayven, one of the merchants from the town of Breeze they'd
left the few days before. Robert was older, going grey at the temple
and had a several day growth of beard covering his face. It was still
bloodied somewhat from the fight two days earlier and made him look
battle hardened. Shave the growth and clean him up though and he
looked young despite his years, and had soft features. Odd to think
he was such a beast on the field.
“Should
be there before the sun sets. In time for mead and a wench.”
Robert's face perked at the idea. He was well known throughout the
palaces for his love of mead. And his love of wenches. Which he
looked forward to more at that moment in time was anyone's guess.
“You
think so Rob? I wasn't quite so sure when we crested the rise.”
Garett knew they would be there, but it did good to keep spirits up
with idle banter. The mood over the group was grey and maudlin since
the fight.
“But
of course. I've been caravanning the palace's since you were a wink
in your daddy's eye lad. Hit the rise on this hill and you're there
before sundown. No doubt.” He winked at the younger Garett. They
knew as well as each other why they bantered. It passed the time and
lifted the spirits. An old rule of the road.
