‘So, hungry….’
I struggled through the snow, day after day. The endless white provided no succor.
Traveling sapped my energy, but no longer could I sit and wait. I must risk a quick death or long starvation. As the days passed, I felt as if my bones and strong muscles withered away.
Still, I kept walking through the endless ice. Suddenly, after an eternity, a scent wafted through my nose.
‘Human?...... no…. avoid humans. But……So hungry…. Must take risk.’
~
After hours of tracking the scent, I found only one human, struggling through the snow. It was confusing since the hairless humans would die from being in such a harsh winter, even in all their wrappings.
Slowly, I crept towards the lone human.
‘Must attack from above. Humans don't look up.’
I leaped onto a tree, but I was so weak that my focus was unsteady.
A branch broke off. The human stopped, and I froze. It couldn't see me in the midst of the frost. Its eyes roamed around, even glanced at where I hid amongst the trees, yet it showed no reaction.
I waited for the human to leave and followed. I stalked the human for miles and tried again, once more, my clumsiness cost me, and the human stopped and searched, this time a bit longer and more cautious.
After another failure, I realised I can’t attack from above anymore.
‘Too weak, too hungry. Attack from ground, it's just a little human.’
Humans moved slowly. I crept closer and closer, biding my time, making sure the human didn't notice.
‘Now!’
I bounded across the distance, ready to rend the human limb from limb and finally sate the unending hunger. Then it turned, hand outstretched.
‘Fire…Pain….Hurt.’
~
I jolted awake, immediately feeling my face and side, checking for burns. The pain, the heat, it felt so real. Then, as the seconds passed, the dreams disappeared, and I forgot why I was even checking myself for burns in the first place.
I shook my head, trying to clear away the morning cobwebs from my mind.
“What an odd dream,” I muttered.
I stretched on my hay bed, my room kept reasonably warm from the brazier. Looking out the window, I noted how low the sun was,
‘I overslept.’
I shrugged, put on my clothes, re-oiled my hair, and took to the street. I had a mission, and that was to learn as much as possible.
Exiting the building, I found Cole still there, completely unbothered.
“Let’s go for a ride,” I said, patting his flank. I took everything I owned with me, save for a small sack sitting under my bed that contained three silver eagles. It was a test to see if my room would remain unbothered. I intended to do it every day, I even left coins in the open, just to see if anyone would be tempted.
~
For hours, I went from tavern to tavern, speaking rarely, mostly just sipping an ale in a corner, listening to the towns' gossip.
It was rather strange learning about myself from others. Depending on who you were asking. I was a remorseless killer, a misunderstood maiden, or a demon.
Myr was my only name, however, not Edith, or any other alias. My origins also varied; some stories mentioned I was from the north, others that I was an escaped Ferosian slave. A few things remained consistent, including my time in Grenwood, which seemed to be a point of contradiction.
Most of the tales painted me as a ruthless killer. They spoke of how I would burn entire villages to the ground and slaughter innocent men, women, and children without hesitation. The eight bandits were turned into a family of hunters, whom I killed for their resources. It was a clear combination of propaganda, intending to induce fear. Of course, the killing of Baroness Redstone and Magus Elis painted me as a manipulator and liar who snuck her way into her service and, at the opportune moment, murdered them without hesitation.
Yet through all that, there was another tale. During my time in Grenwood, I helped people through the deep winter. I took control of a small territory for a time; those same people had peace and happiness until the magisterium arrived and destroyed their homes in pursuit of Myr.
My version of the events upon the Adjuran hills was slightly altered. While traveling, I tried to read the magical text in secret. However, I was caught, and Baroness Rendstone ordered me killed. I luckily landed a blow on Magus Elis before she could summon her magic. And in the midst of my terror, I stabbed Surian.
Same outcome but different motivation. This did as Baroness Rennah and I intended. While the wealthy believed me to be a ruthless murderer, the commoners didn't. One of their own, a bastard girl, managed to do the impossible: learn magic. No one could deny the fact.
So why wouldn’t the Magisterium try to smear her name? To paint a tale of desperate struggle as one of ruthless calculus to hide their own failure. The magisterium underestimated the internal negative bias that existed in peasants and commoners towards the wealthy and powerful. They all acknowledged that I murdered them, but felt no sympathy.
They would believe the story that painted one of their own as the hero and not as the villain. The tales bards spread always appealed to the biases of the audience. While there were over ten thousand members of the nobility, there were millions of commoners.
However, there was one thing that would still pose a threat to me. The enormous bounty. 500 golden royals, land, and a noble title. Even if a random peasant felt sympathy or even wished that I not be caught or killed, that delicious bounty would supersede that desire.
I expected a hundred royals at most. It was a good counterplay, since anyone who gave information that led to my death or capture would receive the rewards: An excellent way to counteract any sympathies my stories generated.
I would bet my last bit that the bounty increase was due to the change in the narrative surrounding me. It had to be Heywood.
It remained to be seen which tale would become true in the end.
As I downed the rest of my beer, listening to a few mercenaries brag about what they would do with the wealth if they captured or killed me, I felt an odd amount of pride.
Every tavern, drinking hall, and eatery had one or more people talking about me. The tales were varied and fantastical. Surprisingly, no one paid me too much attention. It seemed that strange, hooded travelers weren't an odd sight in a trading city.
Sitting around listening to people could only provide so much information. I needed a direct conversation. I thought for a moment and decided to head towards the bridge.
As I walked, I kept my head low; however, I pulled my hood back a bit to reveal my hairline. With my face partially shrouded and the deep red hue of my hair revealed. It was just enough for people to think that I was a red-haired man, I hoped.
Stepping up to what was clearly a fine-looking eatery, not a hundred paces from the massive bridge, I nodded to the men on guard. They stopped me, but after dropping a silver in each hand, they quickly changed their behavior.
After entering the room, I felt rather nostalgic. It was the same arrangement as Darion’s Dish: tables were everywhere, well-off diners eating, and of course, there was a bar.
I sat at the bar, and a large brown-haired man in a finely tailored red doublet and pants looked me over, clearly unimpressed by my appearance.
I casually dropped four silver eagles on the counter and said, as if I was tired from traveling, “Any good hard liquor you got."
His eyebrows shot up at the casual display of wealth, and his entire attitude changed. “Got quite a collection on offer.”
“You pick, just give me something strong.” I sighed and stared down at the counter. Any good barman seeing a patron with coin would strike up a conversation in hopes of keeping the coin flowing. I saw Hewit do it more times than I could count.
“Long travel?” He asked, dropping a tankard on the table.
“Aye, all the way from Heatherwerry.”
He whistled, “Quite the distance. And what you doin' so far south?”
I shrugged, “Same thing that most fools think to do when coming to this city. Seeking my fortune.”
The man chuckled heartily, "Ain't that the truth?” He picked up a crystal glass and began polishing. “So, any luck?”
I shook my head, “Been looking for a spot to start a business, but looks like all the best plots are taken.” I took a deep draft of the strong brandy, pretending it didn't feel like I was drinking liquid fire.
He nodded, “Aye, yer ten years too late to get a prime spot.”
“I blame the damn bards who keep spinnin' tales about Merchant Enoras.”
The barman topped off my tankard. “Aye, many a fool comes here thinking he’s gonna be the next Enoras. And get himself a spot in Hightown.”
“Count me among them. Saw them damn houses when I took my horse for a ride around the area. I've seen rich folks before, but nothin’ like that. Is it true Enoras is richer than a lot of nobles?”
The barman nodded and smiled, “That he is, they say he pisses fine wine and shits gold.”
I stared at the roof dreamily, “He must live in a palace. Or maybe in the keep with the Count, since they're friends and all that.”
The barman shook his head, “Nah, he's got a right monster of a mansion right up the arse of Greystone Keep.”
‘Now I know where you live Enoras. I bet a commoner would have as large and ostentatious a mansion as possible.’
“See, now those are the kinds of people I’d want in my eatery.”
He looked me up and down, “You looking to open an eatery in Hightown?”
I shrugged, “That’s the dream, took my inheritance and came here. ”
“Best you stayed at home, boy, getting a pass ain't no easy task. Let alone gettin’ land.”
I nodded, “I asked around, looks like it's a lot more than just payin’ coin.”
With a mischievous tone, he said, “You got a better chance of getting into a priestess' knickers than Hightown.”
“There’s gotta be a way,” I asked, practically begging. He sighed with some sympathy.
“You ain't got no connections and certainly ain't got the coin. The only other way is a noble patron.”
I rose in my seat and asked eagerly, “How did you get that?”
He smiled with a bit of sympathy, “Get a noble to notice ya. And hope that they petition for you with the magistrate.”
My face deflated, then my eyes widened, “What about the pass? Surely I get one of those? I saw merchants entering”
He shook his head, “Only people of strong standing can get a pass; it takes years before you can be approved. Someone not even born here, my boy, it ain't in the cards for you.”
I defeated one again and pressed my head against the counter, “I’ll be a laughing stock if I head back home.”
I finished my tankard and dropped another silver on the counter.
“Want some advice?”
I looked up at him, full of hope.
“Start small, build yourself and your reputation up. Anyone with a bit of sense can make it in Greystone. In five or ten years, you can petition for a pass to Hightown, maybe set up a stall there, you never know.”
I sighed and stared down into my newly filled tankard, “That’s how it's gonna have to be.”
I downed the entire thing in one gulp, “Well, I've come this far. Ain't turning back now.” Determination filled my voice.
“That’s the spirit, boy. You're young and strong, no need to be rushing.” With a nod and a smile, I got up to leave.
“If you would put a silver on it, where do you think I should set up?” He licked his lips in contemplation. “Crag Street’s a decent location, doesn't have a proper eatery. It's near one of the water wheels. Guardsmen would pay good coin for a proper meal.”
“Aye, I think I'll check it out.”
~
I spent an hour or two perusing the shops near the bridge, casually probing for information. More and more, I found myself annoyed by the count. His guard force was well paid with practically no corruption.
Anyone passing through the gates other than influential and powerful figures were thoroughly searched and their identities verified.
Practically everyone confirmed the barman’s words. No amount of coin would buy my way through. Nor was I willing to spend a year working; that was a waste of time, not to mention the danger. The more I interacted with people, the higher the chance someone would discover my identity.
~
On the back of Cole, I headed out of the city back to the hill off in the distance. Looking down at Hightown, I contemplated.
“I have to infiltrate Hightown, don't I, Cole?” I asked my horse.
“But how?” I looked at the walls. Any normal army would have no chance of breaching them. They were massive; thick enough that even two carriages would fit along the top abreast.
Then there was Enoras’s home, how would I enter? Doors and locks wouldn't be a problem. But what kind of magical defences could those magi have cooked up for him? I sighed and took out my second medallion, staring at where the orichalcum would sit to make the circuit function. I made it during the winter, just for the occasion. It sat resting in my pack, completely useless without the orichalcum.
‘A normal army couldn't scale that wall, but what about a Magus?’
I looked at the section of wall closest to the Greystone Keep and then focused on two of the largest homes closest to it. One home was like a small castle with gleaming white stone walls and large, luscious gardens. Even from miles out, I could tell it was an impressive home.
‘Definitely Enoras’s and it should be easy to check if he is the owner.’
I looked back to the walls of the city.
‘150 foot climb, I'll need a source of power. The water wheels?’ I shook my head.
‘Too well guarded.’
I looked at the flowing river. ‘A large amount of free-flowing water. It's a decent source of power.’
From the parts of the wall closest to the shore, I traced a path all the way to the white stone home.
‘Miles of walking, even at night, I would be rather suspicious. I need more information to make this work.’
I threw my mind back to when I pressed Collete against the wall of my home with just the power of my barrier. I definitely could create a formula that would allow me to climb up a vertical wall. It would take some experimentation, though.
Nodding, I spurred Cole into motion back towards the city. I had a heist to plan.