Chapter 36: Garrison
The sun has practically dipped below the horizon and I find myself still wandering the city streets. The chill in the air bites sharper than I expected being this close to the sea and the incoming winter months have made the nights recently pretty cold in Lont. I tug my robe tighter around my shoulders and grumble under my breath. Would it really have been so hard for these damn robes to come with a hood, like the inquisitors'?
I don't even know where I'm going. My feet carry me aimlessly, each street blending into the next, stone buildings giving way to winding alleys and busy squares until, suddenly, I realize with a start that I've been walking for over three hours. The streets have changed. More familiar. I glance up and curse under my breath when I realize I'm near Cain's estate.
"Perfect," I mutter dryly. "Hope Cain doesn't check to see if I'm back tonight."
So much for turning in early. No way I'll be back at the castle at a decent hour now. Goodbye, good night's sleep.
I keep walking anyway heading towards the place I know best, my pace slowing as the cobbled streets give way to packed dirt, and then broken stone. The polished elegance of the city fades behind me, replaced by the raw, harsh edges of a place I know too well.
The outskirts.
I slip into the shadows by instinct, keeping to the crumbling walls and dark corners. It's almost second nature. I don't belong here anymore, but muscle memory doesn't care. I also rather not be seen by any of the dwellers here those fuckers are insane at least most of them.
I pause behind a gate and watch as a group of men and women surround someone smaller, their fists and feet doing the talking. No words are exchanged. Just dull, wet thuds and a single cry that's quickly muffled. When they scatter, they leave with nothing but a tattered blanket clutched like treasure. A rag, really. Such unnecessary violence.
That was life, not even a year ago.
I exhale through my nose, tension knotting in my chest, and press deeper into the maze of broken streets. My feet know where they're going even if I try to pretend I don't. Eventually, I find myself standing in front of a small, half-collapsed building tucked behind other rotted structures on the eastern edge of the outskirts.
My old hiding place.