The ramparts loomed, a shade more somber than the days when cadaverous mountains cascaded from their heights, crushing the elven legions that lay siege. It seemed as though the years had passed without a single soul to cleanse the remnants of that sanguinary conflict. Now, the battlements, steeped in the lifeblood of elf and fae alike, birthed verdant life anew, with flora and moss draping their expanse.
Long had it been since my last sojourn here…
"What holds thy gaze?" A guard's query came as a prelude to his shove, his boot dictating my path with an unceremonious nudge.
"Temper thy hand… He is not one to be made a foe," chided a voice, admonishing the guard.
Halting, I pivoted to behold the guards' chief proffering a flask — likely void of wine — and a pouch resonating with the unmistakable chime of coinage as it settled in my grasp.
"For what purpose do these tokens serve?" I posed the question, though I surmised noble intent behind his offering.
"Thou may find these of use, should they opt to confine thee. Torture is unlikely; time is a luxury they lack. Yet, they might wish to reserve thee for a later reckoning," he uttered, his words faltering, his demeanor tinged with trepidation.
By the sacred Stars, what curse had befallen me?
Meanwhile, the mire and muck mirrored our own thoroughfares, yet devoid of pedestrians: only carriages, steeds, and the occasional sedans, likely bearing those of revered status from afar. Thus, each passerby already had been casting curious glances upon the guards and myself.
"This whelp peddled me venison! He's the murderer!"— a vociferous dame drew more attention with her clamor, truly familiar with casting aspersions, wishing to draw more attention towards me than her.
I didn't expect accusations to fly immediately as I had emerged from the inner city's embrace. Yet, I had to endure. How wearying.
My hand, as if of its own accord, sought the flask to drown out my contempt for the unfolding charade, but the chief guard stayed my action with a murmur, "Forsake it…" His words, a subtle reminder of my lapse. For since my demise, my path had been paved with naught but missteps.
"Noris," I addressed the boisterous merchant, "Our dealings are not new, so whence comes this sudden scorn?" Yet, Noris bowed her head, offering no retort — a stark contrast to her prior fervor at the gates. She marched on, feigning deafness to my query.
"The time is upon us!" A voice of command seized the air, "Before you enter further, kneel and vow humility, cooperation, and aid — such subservience shall spare thy life."
Life? Which life? A jest, surely… Yet all around me, knees met earth, hands clasped over hearts, murmurs of fealty whispered.
In days of yore, such oaths were sworn in earnest — pledges of fidelity, fairness, and forbearance to kith and captive alike. To respect the possessions of others, to eschew mob justice without irrefutable proof — these were the tenets I instilled in my soldiers, my subjects. But now… now, neither tenet nor truth remained.