Content Warning: Gore, Trauma, War
"I was sent there with my father shortly after the first invasion ten years ago. We were part of the first group to begin excavation. At first we thought, like you, that we were simply there to quarry the stone and labour as punishment for existing. At twelve years old, anything like that was punishment for existing, but about six years ago we exposed the first buildings. First it was the top of a tower, then a manor house, and after that we found regular houses. "Residentials," as they called them, were not useful discoveries, but no matter how many buildings we uncovered, no matter how many homes and hearths and tables set with plates that melted into the stone they sat on... We never found any bodies. No trace that anyone had died there."
Wynessa shuddered before continuing.
"After the first summer of excavating buildings from the outside, the smaller ones, children and malnourished adults were sent inside the remnants through any way they could. Some of the buildings were safe enough, but others... The first tower we had uncovered, they sent a small boy through what had been a window. Inside was completely hollow. We didn't know. They didn't know. None of us knew until he stopped screaming." Tears had returned to her eyes and peeled down her face, blending with the tracks of the previous that had marked rivers from her eyes and cut through the dirt and soot on her cheeks.
"Did they get to him in time?" Miklian's worries were confirmed with the shaking of her head, but he did not press her to continue. She took a shuddering breath before she spoke again.
"No. They left him there. We found his body the next time they sent someone into that tower, this time with a rope tied around their waist. She had rope burns when they untied her, but she was able to tell them what was inside. After that, the tower was off limits and a Warlock descended into it. The worst of us, the unruly ones that broke rules or behaved certain ways, they were all sent into that tower. I don't think any of them ever came back out of it."
"Gods above..." The giant stared aghast at the road ahead of them, ashamed and horrified at his own people.
"They never told us what we were looking for, but the orders passed down most definitely came from that Warlock. Because of that thing, that horror, that monster, we were mining in a site that was cursed, haunted, and reviled by civilization for generations. Centuries of stories about that Mountain, about the spirits that remained there, about the elementals that waged war there... Now it rings with the souls of my tortured people... And the worst part is that none of you know just how bad it is." She turned to stare up at Miklian's face, tracing the lines of his eyes that burned with shame and the way his brows furrowed together to make great hills and crevices across his forehead that were so far from touching his hairline.
His hairline? The giant she had spent just over a week with, how did she never notice the grey-silver hair that he had pulled back into a small braid at the base of his skull? It was messy and blended in well with his skin, but she should have seen it before. Was she really so blind.
While Wynessa spoke about her time in the mine, Timias held tightly to the blankets in his fists, his teeth clenched as tears rolled silently down his face onto the wrapped up jacket that lay beneath his head like a pillow. He faced away from them, watching the retreating road off the back of the cart and recounted the blurred memory of the discussion with the traveling elders the night before.
Such a place truly did exist and it was far worse than he could have ever imagined.
Hours passed in relative silence before the elvish man sat upright, stretching and yawning as though he had been asleep. Neither of the pair in the front seat had spoken a word since she had finished explaining the horrors she had grown up with, but the words clung to the air around them.
They pulled to the side of the road for a break just around midday, and as soon as the cart stopped moving, Miklian flung himself off the seat and moved quickly into the trees. They had gone far enough away from their location the previous night that the western side of the south-facing cart was a woodland with dense brush that easily came to Wynessa's waist, Timias's shoulders, and Miklian's knee.
Watching their tallest companion retreat beyond their line of sight, Wynessa sighed quietly and moved towards the face of their Brute to offer him wheatgrass and apples while they waited. The elf took the opportunity to disappear behind a tree, leaving their human alone with the cart.
When neither of the men returned after a few moments, her worries began to grow and only grew worse when the ox began to scuff at the roadside beneath his hooves. His anxious movements made her more aware of the sounds coming down the road that sounded like hoofbeats.
The sounds gradually grew louder until the source finally revealed itself coming around the next bend in the road. A flurry of armoured horsemen, easily a dozen, stormed their way past the cart, none of them seeming to pay any attention to the young woman who bowed her head complacently at the passing knights. Of the entire company, they all seemed to be men taller than her, but not greatly. Humans and elves most likely.
She watched their retreating figures until they passed around another bend and out of her sight. The sigh she released after left her lungs burning, letting her know how much her body appreciated her holding her breath for so long.
"That was incredibly close." Miklian's voice startled her from the treeline. He and Timias moved to stand from their hiding places where they had been laying in the brush.
"Who were those riders? I didn't recognise their crest." She held the reins out for one of the men to take before she stepped into the brush, taking her turn to relieve herself.
"They didn't exist when you were last in the free world. They are hunters of a type. Bounty-men. They are an elite order that hunt down half-breeds and insurrectionists. They are a type of force intended to take down anyone against the new Council or the King of my homeland. Those ones seemed to be on the hunt as well..." The giant could not hide his disgust as he explained what the crossed golden swords on a red and white quartered background meant. He shook his head, keeping his gaze away from the bushes where she crouched respectfully.
"There are men actively hunting half-breeds? But half-elves have been a common occurrence since long before the invasion. My uncle's wife was a half-elf." The incredulousness in her voice was only stifled by the surrounding greenery while she tried to keep her voice low enough to not expose them further.
"They don't just hunt half-elves, my friends. Unfortunately, those godless men hunt anything they see as defiling the ways of nature. While this does, in fact, include personages like myself, it also includes the pair of you simply for cavorting with each other, even innocently." Timias's voice was low and calloused, heartache and hatred flowing freely from his tongue as he stared at the road where last they had been seen. "We must hurry along as quickly as we can to the city. When last I was there, such heathenous blasphemers were not permitted within the city walls. There we should be able to find some safety, my friends."
Returning quickly to the cart, the elf insisted on remaining in the rear of the cart incase any other such hunters were on the road and before they took off, Wynessa and Miklian each covered themselves with hooded cloaks to at least hide their identities from prying eyes.
Wynessa found herself running her fingers over the silver necklace in her pocket once again, thumbing the designs and chainwork absentmindedly. She almost missed her giant offering her some bread to help with her hangover that still pounded at the back of her head.
"Please, eat something." His voice was low as he pressed the half-loaf of bread into her hand, which she gladly took. Contented for a moment, he turned his attention back to the well-kempt road that divided the forest from the rolling hills that lead to the lowlands and eventually the coast.
It had been so long since she had seen plains. Watching the seemingly endless waves of fields that were only occasionally spotted with copses of trees here and there, she was in awe. The day had begun overcast and grey, but in the early afternoon they opened up to a brilliant blue that took her breath away. She lay in the seat with her feet nearly touching Miklian's thigh as the chill of the day finally began to break in the scattered sunlight.
"Tim?" She called back to him, hoping he was listening as she continued. "What is the city like?"
"Oh my friends, you are going to adore every part of it! Well, almost every part. It's beautiful! The main of the city is on a river, but not just any river! Riviera De Magnifique! The river plays host to the migrating fish swarms that swim upriver every fall to lay their eggs in the Niad springs in the cave at the mouth of the river, which is barely an hour's walk from the city walls. Given the turning weather, we might even be in time for the annual Niad's Gifting festival! At the beginning of the spawning season, the citizens of the city gather and trade gifts with friends and family before the winter chill sets in. This far into the mountains, such important traditions absolutely must be done before the first snow! Much like harvest seasons the world over! The city itself is divided into four sections based on location and which part of the river you can access!" As he prattled excitedly about his home, both his companions smiled, listening intently to his descriptions and thankful for the distraction from their thoughts.
"Because the river divides and then rejoins itself within the city, the central island is where the High Duke and his illustrious family reside, but it is also where the great temple of the Thousand Gods was constructed. They accept all faiths and worships provided there is minimal bloodshed and even then they only provide clemency for those who are willingly sacrificing themselves. The healers within the chantry are brilliant, absolutely astute and magnificent clerics. When last I was there, they even accepted a particularly talented goblin into the order of protectors of the temple! How brilliant! What excellence!"
"Hightown is technically the smallest district, outside of the island, of course. It is to the northwest of the river and extends from where the river enters the city to the north gate, which is where the Kingsroad, the one we're on, enters the city. This, of course, is where the diplomatically inclined personages tend to reside, and the houses in Hightown are grandiose beyond the rest of the city. Many people whose families reside in Lowtown find work in the houses and manors of Hightown."
"Of course, Lowtown is the largest area of the city and makes up the entire southeastern half of the city to the south of the river, but the peoples of Lowtown are the true citizenry of the city! Trust me! As soon as we see the northern watchtower, Riviera is not much farther! Not even half a day of travel beyond!"
Wynessa let their excitable elf talk for the rest of the afternoon, inundating his audience with stories and history of the city of Riviera. They were still two days away from the northern watchtower, but their southward travel was not nearly as safe as they had hoped.