"Twelve through the gate so far, just how many carriages do these people need?"
"Whoever they are, so long as each of those carriages have treasure in them, they're about to be richer than we can ever imagine."
Inside the city of Stormwynter, near the north gate, a caravan has entered the city. Each carriage in the caravan drawn by two very healthy drays carrying various supplies ranging from weapons to food, all overseen by two men per wagon. As the first carriage of the caravan arrives at its location – a warehouse overseen by two guards, both of whom seemed too focused on the awestruck sight of the wagons than their actual duty, two men step out.
The first of the men, an almost-boy with jet black hair, stretched his legs and arms outward as he walked away from the warehouse toward the bridge that went over the Deep River and into the market square. As he stood atop this bridge, commoners and wagons passing him along the way, he gazed in adoration at the city in front of him. This was a new frontier for Luca, the boy's mind swelling with possibilities and dreams of adventure within the city.
The second of the men, a tall, dark-skinned male approached the guards overseeing the warehouse. The two guards looked up slightly at the man, and after analyzing him for a moment, the two's faces were painted with realization. A rough beard with loose, unkempt dark brown hair, looking down on anybody who speaks to him, those brown eyes always gazing with a disappointed look – his signature style.
The man sported a cinnamon-brown linen silk gipon as a tunic, slightly padded with leather for protection. Across his chest, a golden sash that crossed from shoulder to torso, held down by his shining steel pauldron. The man's gauntlets and boots appeared as if they once were padded with armor but have since been removed from the places where armor could be found. Holding his black trousers up was a leather belt with a coin pouch strapped firmly to it. Aside from his signature gaze and outfit, the man's deforming scar across his left cheek told all the story it needed to.
The guards took a moment to analyze the insignia on the golden sash before coming to a final conclusion; these are no ordinary adventurers. This is the Leviathan Guild. Which would mean the man in front of them is no other than…
"I shouldn't have to tell you this, but this cargo we're passing on to you is precious. Lose any of it, and you'll hear directly from me. Understand?"
Gar Sakev spoke with a booming voice that would put fear in the hearts of lions. The Liberator, the people knew him as, one of the many titles awarded to Gar for his acts of heroism during the Liberation of Northern Rise. "All meaningless," he had once said, "they try to give titles and land to the victors, but they can never truly replace what I've lost."
The two guards gave a brief salute to Gar, a closed fist over their heart with the other hand behind their back, before they rushed to the carriages to assist in bringing their shipments into the warehouse. Aiding in the deliverance were dozens of men and women sporting a similar uniform to Gar Sakev, aside from the steel pauldron and their sashes of varying colors.
The guards, of course, knew already what each sash represented, and made certain to give proper respect to the differing members of the Leviathan Guild. The blue sash, often rarely seen in the field due to their low number, is indicative of the Chiron Core, healers who work alongside those in the Order of Sages to bring the next breakthrough in modern medicine. Whereas sages are committed fully to certain keeps or regions, members of the Chiron Core practice their craft wherever the Leviathan Guild takes them.
The crimson red sash, the most common color found on the members of the Leviathan Guild, are representative of the Champion Core, fighters and soldiers who participate in the defense or assault of enemies to the guild. Although the realm has been at relative peace, the Champion Core remains the most interesting regiment to the public eye. Champions of the core often are viewed as mercenaries, taking up any job offer their squadron receives. The ones who have no jobs available to them are forced to assist the garrison in whatever city they find themselves in, solely to put the prosperity of the realm over their own personal gain.
The black sash, the rarest of all colors, was reserved for special artisans of their respective trades. Blacksmiths, tailors, armorers, and leatherworkers within the Leviathan Guild all represented their role with their black sash of the Black Core, and with their added authority were able to take over any shop to exercise their craft. Due to the recent innovation of technology in Arcadia, however, a handful of the newest donners of the black sash are gunsmiths, with one or two being relatively experienced pilots of the arcadian airships.
Finally, the golden sash is reserved only for officers within the Leviathan Guild. Once a member of the guild has proven their worth, their status in the guild becomes recognized and improved. Although there is no tiered progression system within the guild, once a member has shown their worth more than enough times, they are bestowed upon them the golden sash of the Golden Core. With the upgrade in rank, members are provided with their own battalion to supervise over, but in the case of Captain Gar Sakev, his purpose is at the side of the guild's founder, Broker.
"Seems we've got the short end of the stick with these guards."
Broker approached Gar Sakev from behind, a sign that the last of the carriages had begun to unload their wares, their jobs nearing completion. Gar looked down at his friend and ally, the two-foot height difference meaningless to them both.
"Journeymen," Gar replied, "The quality of the garrison gets worse each time we visit."
"Whoever trained them must be doing a dreadful job. If only we had an esteemed hero of legend in the city to fill those shoes," Broker said with a smirk.
"You don't get to sell me off that easy. We'll do what we always do – train them for a month, then come back in a year. If they can't retain what we taught them, well, it gives the king more reason to keep paying us."
"I guess this time it'll be the prince paying us, though. I hear he's quite clever, if not a tad on the side of naive."
"You don't think he'll try to swindle us, do you?"
"Hmm," Broker placed a hand on his clean-shaven, sculpted chin, "No, I don't. Every time we do our annual training, crime in this city drops substantially for a four-month period. After King Derrick's circumstance became public knowledge, crime has reached unprecedented levels. I hear the city watch has lost complete control over the Shiver District. It's now controlled by a series of gangs, but nobody quite knows how they became so organized in such a short period of time. The fact remains; we'll be essential in reestablishing order here."
"Seems we have our work cut out for us, then," Gar sighed, "And then there's the matter of the boy."
"You're too hard on him sometimes, I think you'll find he has more uses other than being awestruck at every menial human creation."
Awestruck was more than enough to describe Luca's state. As ferries passed under the bridge, caravans carried harvests from farms, and passing merchants attempted to sell their miscellaneous goods all breezed him by, Luca could not comprehend how amazing this hearth of society truly was.
After taking a deep breath of this new, fresh experience, Luca turned his attention back towards his companions in the Guild, a guilty look on his face as realization set in that he had been of no help in unloading their wares. Quickly, Luca scurried to the final wagon before being called to where his mentors were standing. Changing his course of direction, the boy approached Broker and Gar.
"This place is amazing!" Luca exclaimed to the two. Gar swore he could see stars in the boy's eyes. "The horses, the clothes, I haven't seen a single armed man not wearing that sash," he pointed at Gar. "This is more different than anything I've seen on the countryside."
"This," Broker chimed in, "is the biggest city in Arcadia. And although there is plenty of beauty here, there is equally as much corruption. For the time we're here, we'll need to be quiet and move quieter. Understand?"
"I thought we were here to train the garrison."
"In the time you've known us," Gar said, "have you ever known anything to go to plan?"
Luca cracked a smirk. "Fair point. When do we start?"
"Because we arrived earlier than anticipated," Broker said, "we have around five days before training officially begins. Next week we start with the kingsguard, the week after that is the garrison, then repeat until a month of training has passed."
"So," Gar said, "We have five days to figure out how a handful of gangs kicked the city watch out of an entire district."
"Leave that to me," Broker said, "I suspect some old friends of mine may have a better idea of what's going on there better than these aristocrats."
"This coming from a revered protector of the aristocracy itself."
"It can't be helped. They pay the best."
Gar chuckled, "That they do. Fine then, I'll leave you to it. The boy and I will make sure everyone in the guild gets settled in."
"Right," Luca nearly stuttered.
Before the topic could continue, Luca felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he could see the world around him spin, before falling to the ground with a thud. The boy gripped his shoulder briefly before looking around him, seeing a well-built man sprinting towards the market square. Luca padded his pockets, a technique Broker had taught him to do every time he passed by someone, only to realize his coin purse had been taken.
As fast as he was knocked to the ground, Luca pushed himself back onto his feet, darting after the assailant.
Although much smaller and dexterous than the thief, he was still only able to barely keep up with his speed. The only thing in Luca's mind was the determination to catch the thief and retrieve the money he had been working towards earning for months. As he shoved past crowds of people, much to their disdain, he was certain the distance between the two had shortened significantly.
Eventually, the horde of citizens cleared, and Luca found himself in the middle of the market square, a clear upper-class commonwealth of artisans. As he entered the square, he came to an abrupt halt, the thief nowhere in sight.
'Think, think!' Luca thought to himself. Sweat beginning to drop from his forehead. He was nervous, lost, and afraid of the ridiculing he would receive if he were to return empty-handed. 'I have to do that here and now, don't I?'
Luca took a deep breath, steadying the pace of his breathing to more controlled inhales and exhales. Once his breathing was under control, his rhythmic breaths became in tune with the beating of his heart. Slowly, the boy closed his eyes, feeling the wind rapidly blowing through the market square.
His eyes remaining closed, Luca looked to a path to the left. No, there was no sign the thief went that way. Luca then lifted his head to look to a path in front of him, beginning to walk towards it, thinking something may be there, but he quickly shook his head no once again.
Finally, Luca turned to the path to his right. This was it. His eyes still closed, the boy began to walk down the path.