Caracara's Hunt 115 The Capital

But Nairyãm was still far away, and soon, Arawn ran out of food again. He looked forward to meeting another batch of bandits, but none came out of their way to attack him. His guess was that since he was getting closer to the capital, the roads grew safer. There weren't many travelers, but he saw soldiers on patrol from time to time.

At first, he didn't even recognize them since they wore casual clothes, but then he saw the steel grey gla.s.s baubles at their pockets. Sylvester had once mentioned that it meant they were soldiers. The shade of grey and the accompanying chain could give even more insight into their position, but that was a bit too much for Arawn. He was proud of himself for even recognizing their profession.

Two more days pa.s.sed before he saw the capital. Nairyãm was situated on the plains where it could be seen from miles away. Arawn stopped his horse on a faraway hill and took a moment to examine the sprawling monster of rainbow colors before him.

There was a black castle in the middle of it like a harbinger of doom. It had spear-like spires and long but narrow windows which looked over the whole city. There was no building that even came close to matching the castle in height.

It was surrounded by a colorful array of streets. Some of them had green-roofed buildings, other red ones, and the third cl.u.s.ter was all sky blue. Arawn did not know what the colors meant, but he was pretty confident in his guess that the city was segregated based on occupation or rank.

The old town right around the castle was encompa.s.sed by an ancient wall. It had once protected the area, but now it looked worn down by age and was crumbling in places. No one seemed interested in repairing it even for decorative purposes.

Since the time the city had outgrown its original constraints, no other blockades had been built. The houses were strewn around the old wall in a haphazard manner, without any planning or thought put behind it, while the outer edge was just shacks built of mud.

When Arawn descended the hill and followed the road into the city, he entered a dark tunnel. Earthen walls rose to the left and right of him, blocking his view of the shacks. There were ornaments on the walls, but there was nothing about them that caught Arawn's attention.

'Is this to protect me from the people on the outskirts or to protect my eyes from seeing them?'

The thought made him a little queasy, but he didn't have the time nor the interest to explore it. His goal was right before him, and his heart clenched with worry.

He had rushed through the whole week while ignoring his own needs just to reach Nairyãm on time.

When he left, he had been so worked up that he had forgotten to ask anything. When was the execution scheduled? Where were the prisoners kept? Was there any chance to break them free without force?

'It's going to be fine. Just go inside and listen to the people; they'll certainly be speaking about such a grand event.'

Bitterness surged up in Arawn, making him sneer at nothing. How could the deaths of people not be a great show?

A while later, the tunnel opened up and he saw a lot of carriages and riders standing in a line. They were moving at a snail's pace due to the narrowness of the gate, but not the guards, who should have checked the incoming people. The men with armor and spears in hand didn't even glance at the crowd. They didn't check the merchants' wagons or their merchandise, let alone demanded a writ permitting them entrance.

It was hard to believe it when Ayersbert was threatening war, but a likely explanation for it was that the Mairyan king did not take it seriously. Based on the fact that there was no army being gathered or even soldiers standing guard around the capital city, no one seemed to believe that the two countries could really go to battle.

Arawn found the Mairyan king quite naive, but he did not think much about it. The fewer soldiers there were, the easier it would be for him to save Val and his family.

The line was not long, but because of the slow-moving wagons, it took Arawn a whole two hours to enter. He squirmed and looked around constantly, but there was nothing to do. He hadn't borrowed Sylvester's proof of ident.i.ty to have a faster entry.

Once inside the city, he rode through the streets while looking around. There was nothing special to see, just colorful houses and people walking around and chatting in an unfamiliar dialect. Arawn could still understand them, but it felt like everyone was slurring their words. It made listening in on them a little more of a challenge than he expected.

Soon though, he heard a conversation that attracted his attention. Two women were discussing the upcoming execution over tea on a balcony a few crosses away. Arawn rode in their direction while putting to memory all they said.

"... dunno about that. It still feels wrong. This might be a setup."

"And? They were careless! And then had the audacity to come here!" The second woman shook her head violently. "They were just asking to be caught."

"But still, to execute them… and so publicly… I think it's in bad taste. This will set a precedent. If a king can execute one n.o.ble, he can execute all of us. Why did the council agree to this?"

The second woman shrugged while taking a sip of her tea. "Who knows? I don't agree with it either. Anyone with the common sense of a flea knows that King Bretan has been coveting our land for years. It doesn't matter if we execute the traitors or not, the damage has been done. He has a casus belli."

"My husband and I are going to the north," the first woman said.

"Not even waiting for the execution?"

"Waiting three days for something like that? Not a chance!"

The conversation then derailed to who was leaving and who was staying, and Arawn rode past the balcony while deep in thought. He had learned what he wanted to know, but now he had to come up with a plan on how to proceed.

Val and his family were probably in the dungeons, so he asked a pa.s.ser-by for directions, and then rode where he was aimed. It took him only ten minutes to locate the building, and he stopped before two soldiers guarding the entrance. They were sitting on stools and napping, which gave Arawn an idea.

He ordered the horse to wait in a nearby alley, then soundlessly got close to the dungeon entrance. The guards did not wake up, and he strolled past them like he had every right to be there.

There was no one in the room inside, so he made his way down the stairs to the dungeon. On the first floor, a few prisoners glanced at him, but they did not bother him when he was dressed like a minor n.o.ble from the countryside.

However, the moment Arawn rounded a corner, he almost walked into a guard. It was a young man wearing a sword at his belt and carrying a bucket in his hand. He seemed as surprised to see Arawn as Arawn to see him, but he did not waste time being shocked.

Instead, he cried for help.

Arawn jumped to cover the soldier's mouth, but the damage was done. The two men at the entrance woke up and rushed in, and there was a sound of feet hitting the floor from somewhere below.

While Arawn hesitated about what to do next, the guard before him let go of the bucket and attempted to draw his sword. It got stuck in the scabbard, and the young man released a m.u.f.fled curse through the hand that covered his mouth.

The two soldiers from the entrance rushed in then and pointed their swords at Arawn's back. He let go of the young man's mouth and called to the ether.

One of the men noticed it and called out a warning, but he was too late. Arawn blasted the three soldiers in different directions without giving them time to react. One of them hit a wall and fainted, but the other two crashed into the bars behind them and grunted in pain.

Their suffering did not mean anything to Arawn, who had more important business to take care of, but just as he prepared to head deeper into the dungeon to look for Val, the footsteps he had heard earlier finally reached him.

A group of soldiers poured into the corridor and blocked his way forward. There was uneasiness on their faces, but even when Arawn raised his ether sheathed hands, they did not budge. Their expressions said that they would rather die than allow him to pa.s.s.

Annoyance rose in Arawn's heart. The soldiers were going to die for no good reason, and he would have to carry the burden of their lost lives. Would it hurt them to just step away and let him pa.s.s?

Yet just as he got ready to cleave through the group, one of the soldiers he'd thrown into the bars coughed, and crimson droplets coated the ground. There was something wrong with his lungs. He could barely take in any air, and he kept on coughing blood.

The sight and sound of it suddenly sickened Arawn. They reminded him of all the n.o.bles that had lauded him for being an efficient killer. Was that what he wanted to be? A man who solved all his problems through violence?

His stomach churned, and he felt like gagging. The terrified eyes of the soldiers before him merged in his mind with the hateful eyes of Lord Bernard's men, creating a picture that was like an old memory to him. The monster had always received such gazes, full of fear mixed with loathing. It was the only kind it ever saw.

And now, those looks were aimed at Arawn. It was him they despised, not the monster.

He had gone and made himself into what he hated the most.