Of Iron and Devils by B.H. Young

Author:B.H. Young [Young, B.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-20T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25.

For hours, Sylo watched the city, from a puny farm just outside the walls, through the spyglass with methodical nature. He had waited long into the night for the boisterous and showering glow of the castle to cease its hosting before proceeding. There were many entrances into Theymonhal, but he sloshed through the snaking stream that ran under the wall and made his way through the back alleys staying in the shadows. While the celebration may have been over, the guest had occupied every entrance of the city with crammed carriages in a storm of arguments. Hundreds of departing wagons plugged the three main gates that would make leaving or arriving a slow undertaking.

He took a spot in a stone niche just below the corner watchtower. The tower was plump, nestled in the corner across the torrent, reaching above the city wall. The castle was tall, cold, dressed in dark and stood a few hundred feet away across a small plot of land. Its sharp spires, slim bell towers, decadent vanes, and ornamental grating pierced into the depressing hue of the night. He had never been to Theymonhal but knowledge was not hard to pluck from the outsets of the city. The peasant farmer had told him which side the steward's chambers resided on in the castle. The ragged man was suffering, his farm no longer to produce the coin needed to feed his habit. Marlo helped alleviate the man of a life ruined after he parted with helpful knowledge.

Submerging into the shadows with studying eyes, Sylo waited. The light splashed around in the tower above, rolling from one side to the other, but could only muster a short reaching cloud of bloom towards the castle. Two unruly guards occupied the tower he determined from the chatter and heartbeats. At such a height, their chatter would sing as mere mumbles to others if at all, but was clear to him, just as the panting exchange of heaves beyond the castle balcony in the steward's chambers. The one guard was questioning a scream he thought he'd heard from the castle; the other guard made a snide remark in reply and they both burst into a laugh.

Theymonhal was large, but only five guards walked the defense wall in designated spots, far too few to merit any real threat or defense. Fifteen watchtowers by his count peppered the city but only four had guards, and only one near this side of the castle. A capital would normally find itself flooded to the brim with city watch, but not in these dire times of stupidity for stubborn monarchs to admit wrongness. It was such a pitiful state for a kingdom to find itself in, to have to draw so many away to war because of an incompetent king, he thought.

The entire realm of Terongard served as the playfield for the petty amusement of the Gods. A land filled with subjects of their trickery and torture. Tales of King Norindale's radical monarchy reached as far as Northanos and possibly the world over.

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