I sucked in a breath of cold air, frost prickling at my eyelashes. This village in which I was stopping was not very different from the rest, except in the way of the nature of the people. It was a relatively small distance away from the inn that I tended to frequent, the one that I recently happened to have an... interesting incident in.
But the people here were human through and through, as would be expected of an isolated town in the heart of Eshon, the land of man. Ruled over by King Sperling the Spiteful, Eshon is the antithesis of Senkyo; it is a place where Fae are executed by beheading, and in the case of Elves, burned at the stake. Faerie practices are outlawed, alongside Elven education, technology, and creative works. Only the human King has access to such luxuries.
Religious matters are another effect of human rule, as all such things were burned and considered illegal in Senkyo. Churches and cathedrals stand tall and majestic all across Eshon, one of the finest existing in the capital, Thanewick.
Thus in this village stood a modest chapel in the center, old and built from stone. A rusted and small bell sat at the top of a short tower, and the entrance to the church consisted of two wooden doors that were once well-kept and decorated in metal plating.
But nonetheless, it was not of my concern at the moment, thus I turned my back on the Holy building and surveyed the local market of bustling people. I meandered towards a farmer unloading bushels of carrots and potatoes from his cart, to which one horse was tied and another bound by a rope to a wooden stilt at his storefront. I leaned my shoulder against the stilt, painting on a grin as I met eyes with the younger man.
"I am in need of a horse." I dipped my head to him, and the farmer hesitated.
"Thirty silver for the black mare. Her name is Raven, an old girl but a reliable one..." His voice melted into the background as a poster pinned to the farmer's storefront came to my attention. It was freshly pinned to the wood and had five emboldened words printed upon the smooth, yellowing parchment: "DEATH TO THE DEMON KING." A simple and barely recognizable depiction of a familiar face was stamped underneath the letters. It was a face I had not seen in ages, narrow and feminine and framed by long, light-colored hair. Elongated, unnatural ears protruded from the sides of his head upwards and satirical goat horns were added near his forehead. I spun around and looked at the other clustered edifices, only to spot the same poster on almost every house; Jack Pyre, King of Elves, was staring down at me from the walls.
I tore the paper from the nail and held it up to the young farmer. "What is this?"
"The royal guard and local militia came to hang them up around town this morning. Sayin' something about a possible war. I don't busy myself much with politics." The man scratched at his head. "You want the horse or not, mister?"
"What? Oh, yes, yes, my apologies." I fished the suede money bag from the inside pocket of my coat, then quickly counted out thirty silver and dropped the pebble-like coins into the ragged hat the farmer held out to me. My mind was elsewhere, however, as he untied the horse from the wooden pole and handed me the rope.
"Do you mind if I pick up the horse later?" It was not a wise decision to leave my money with the farmer in such a way, but my thoughts were racing and I needed answers to my questions.
"No problem, sir."
I needed to find a member of the royal guard; they would know more on the Eshonese government's relations with Senkyo.
"Are any royal guardsmen still here?" I lowered my voice a touch.
"I believe so. They only arrived about a couple hours ago. Why do you ask?" The man was starting to become suspicious, cynicism creeping into his voice.
"A friend of mine recently made it into the guard. I'm wondering if he is here." I smiled dumbly through my lie, which the farmer bought immediately.
"Well good luck then, mister."
I turned and drifted slowly away, looking around through narrowed eyes. It couldn't be very hard to spot a guardsman in a crowd of peasants. They were the royal guard after all.
It was a matter of seconds before the glint of steel caught my eye, and a group of three guards, two females and one male, came out of a tavern. Longswords were sheathed at their sides and they were decked in partial armor, with steel shoulder plates, breastplates, and sabatons.
The frontmost woman had finer armor that glinted gold and was etched with the royal crest of Eshon. Her sword was a remarkable work of craftsmanship and was likely made custom for her by a well-respected blacksmith. While I could not view the blade, the sheath alone was made of leather of the highest grade, and the hilt was resplendent in glimmering gold leaves and other etchings. At her other hip rested a pistol, one much like the two I own; I instantly knew that the guard was a woman high in the ranks. Any form of firearm is extremely rare, as they are horrifyingly expensive and illegal to purchase. Of course, that doesn't stop people like me from wrapping our hands around a gun.
Attempting to not seem suspicious, I skirted around the square until I was half a gale behind the three guards.
"I have some questions for you, my lady." I reached out my arm and lightly touched her shoulder. Immediately, the guard spun around, unsheathing her sword in a flashy flourish before pressing the tip against my throat.
"You do not want to kill me," I beamed at her, staring down the lengthy blade.
"Well, what if I do?" Her stern face was unwavering.
"You have an idea of who I am, don't you?" I hissed, and the young woman's jaw clenched.
I lifted my hand and drew my fingers across the razor-sharp blade, blood smearing across the near-white glassy steel as it beaded at my fingertips.
"How about I show you?"