Court of Assassins: The Ranger Archives Volume 1 by Philip C. Quaintrell

Author:Philip C. Quaintrell [Quaintrell, Philip C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quaintrell Publishings Ltd
Published: 2022-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

A Chronicle of Monsters: A Ranger’s Bestiary, 12th Edition, Page 49.

Arnathor (the old hunter), Ranger.

Velia, the capital of Alborn and the crowning jewel of The Shining Coast, stood tall on Illian’s eastern shore. Its grey walls curved amid flat plains, rising high to protect the city. Higher still were the four kings of old, their towering statues built out from the walls to loom over the land: silent watchers from the past.

Asher couldn’t name any one of the kings, nor could he name the reason they had been chosen by the people to be so immortalised. Yet, though he cared little for name or reason, he stood in the middle of the road and stared up at them.

The lower town, a village of sorts, that sprawled across The Selk Road outside Velia’s walls, was busy with activity, including the constant traffic of merchants in and out of the city. There were people everywhere, creating an environment that should have set Asher on edge. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot, his neck craned, and his eyes locked on those ancient kings.

“First time in Velia?” Geron asked, pulling Hector by the reins to stand beside him.

“No,” Asher replied absently. “I’ve been here many times. I’ve just never stopped to look up.”

“Grand old boys, aren’t they?” The big man joined him in his observation. “They cast long shadows. A little judgey for my liking,” he opined. “Let’s leave them to their business, I say. We have business of our own to conduct!” he added, dropping a heavy hand on Asher’s shoulder.

The former assassin picked up his feet and accompanied Geron down the road, the view now entirely lost behind the surrounding lower town. There was only the enormous archway before them, the thick doors open and the portcullis retracted to allow ease of movement in and out of the city. Velian soldiers stood guard on the ramparts above, while a few milled around the inner courtyard. Passing through, Asher scanned a table of four soldiers playing a game of Galant, not one taking any notice of those who moved through the city.

Then they were inside, back to back with one of the towering kings, and confronted by one of the largest and most densely populated cities in all of Illian. The elven presence in the city had been absent for a millennium, leaving little of their culture still to be seen. Velia now stood as a spectacle of what humanity could achieve: a great feat Asher thought, given that every human had been an Outlander living in The Wild Moores only a thousand years past.

Geron tapped the edges of the rolled-up scroll tucked into his belt. “The butcher’s shop is in the Garden Quarter,” he said, nodding at the street to their left.

Walking through the city, Asher couldn’t help but see the handholds and uneven brickwork where he knew he could scale the buildings. His instincts were always calling him to the heights of the world, places where he could look down from safety and assess the environment.

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