A few days of walking convinced Renado that he preferred to cross the miles on the crest of the waves, not the pacing across miles and miles of grass. In the past six years, he’d never been on land as much as he had now, he felt.
“Look,” had said Asar, on their third day out of the village of Terben. The seasoned mercenary had pointed across the hilltops from the crest of one. The spectacle he had seen first was now a daily sight, as they approached the city of Vagren.
Far to the north-east was a grey scar on the horizon, a pillar of sickly, smoky clouds rising from some unperceivable vent in the world’s crust. Karsef claimed to have read about this phenomenon. According to him, Ren was staring at a volcano, burning the inside of the world into an unimaginable heat, melting stone and scorching the sky. Tass had told Ren about his year of absence, and a bang from the north-east of Sheld had been heard. But this was… five hundred miles from Sheld, at least.
Ren quietly lowered his gaze from the grey blot on the horizon. They followed a well-worn trail through the tall grass, cresting another hill as the afternoon began. “There it is,” Ren murmured when they reached the top of the next hill.
Vagren was a little larger than Sheld, but not much. Instead of clinging to rocky cliffs and ridges on the edge of the ocean, the city before Ren was a sprawling oval that slightly followed a distant, tree-lined river. Dotted with four-storey estates and gardens, the city appeared to hold its wealth well. Renado led his men down the hill toward the city. As they neared it, he recognized a fifteen-foot-stone wall that separated the visible rooftops from the wilds. Not many cities maintained walls that well, even Sheld’s had occasionally been rebuilt outward, but were prone to properties growing beyond their limits. Vagren’s walls were different, a clear boundary that contained the entirety of its population.
The sun had long since fled its zenith when the group of warriors approached the outer gate. Nearly two-dozen camps had been set up in front of the city, but they marched right up to the gate. Ren noticed a few stalls in front—a market? Only one bore a clear sign, which read “Silver Guild: Enter Vagren the safe way, the slave way.”
Before Ren could think through why that would be an option for entry, one of the guards near the gate spotted them and led four of his friends into a line between them and the main street of the city. A few men in red shirts and badges lounged against the wall and smiled mirthfully at Ren’s ignorance, while the first guard lifted a hand and spoke clearly at them. “What’s your business in Vagren?”
“Our business?” Ren asked. “It’s our business.” Woodro, sensing the tension, put his hand on his sword hilt.
“And has someone come to the gate, to help you with your business?” the guard asked. He turned his head to look in the direction of the city, but didn’t even bother to turn it past his shoulder. “Didn’t think so. Listen up, you only enter Vagren by invitation or proof of business. I’d say you’ve got neither.”
Karsef cleared his throat. “So how do we get in?”
“Hire a courier to bring a citizen to let you in,” the guard captain drawled. His leather tunic was boiled and layered with small metal studs, catching the last rays of sunlight that set behind Ren. “Or take your chances with the Silver Guild.”
Ren sighed. “I’ll hire a courier then.”
“You see any couriers?”
Woodro cursed under his breath, but Ren held up a hand to bide their collective patience. He let out a sigh, and waited for the guard to offer more.
Sure enough, the poor-mannered man rolled his head to the side. “They work in the daytime, not this close to curfew. Feel free to join the camps, and check when the sun comes up. If you want to leave, better talk to those fellows.”
The men of the Crimson Highway snickered. One took a swig from a canteen and then spit a little in their direction. Woodro tightened his grip on his sword, but Ren turned away from the guards and the red-decorated Highwaymen and put a hand on his comrade’s shoulders. “Let’s just find some grass to sleep on, alright?”
Woodro ground his teeth together. “Fine. It’ll take us a few days to get in there, at this rate.”
“Then it does,” Ren said. Karsef and Asar started to walk away, as Ren had instructed. “We’re in Radregar to pick a fight, it’s true, but not with these men. Right?”
Woodro ran his tongue under his lip and showed Ren his teeth, then turned to follow the others. Ren wasn’t done, and coughed loudly. The daring mercenary froze in his tracks. He turned back to Renado but averted his eyes. “Right. Sorry, boss.”
Ren patted his friend on the shoulder and they strode after the others together again, blinded by the setting sun across the close, hilly horizon.