Rynth: Four Beats

| 9th of Teryusin — Year 362 of the Cycle of Synthesis, Grand Cycle ??? |

The Batan continued treading their own laid path for two more days. Fortunately for them, excitement did not come in the form of a rampant beastly attack, cultish ambush, or any other life-threatening situation by which they would comb through by the skin of their teeth. Although they did not doubt the survival of their little jolly troupe, a tiny sense of lingering dread made itself present for longer than it should’ve. It did not hesitate to kick its feet up. They attributed such a feeling to Misericorde.

The road was mostly lonely for the rest of their journey. Every few hours, a few offroader cars would pass by, and they would pay them no heed. The highlight of their little skip was the small entanglement with a wandering merchant—all lighthearted, of course. They had accidentally ripped off said trader and had to chase his carriage the opposite direction. In the end, he still brushed off the issue and even offered the Batan a few supplies on the house for their honesty, of which they graciously took.

Vonas was clear in the distance. Nestled between dozens of dagger-like chipped green and gray mountains was a single carved plateau that towered to almost the same height. Heaven-piercing was a hyperbole by no means, but compared to the thousands of tiny homes crowding the base of the landmass, it was no outlandish remark. Atop the plateau itself was a single mini-city of sorts, established directly atop the steep surface in a roundabout pattern that perfectly encircled the lanky watchtower tipped with a colossal amber-orange flame, whipping back and forth endlessly in the west wind. Just beside the watchtower stood a domed structure of copper armed with four great spires on all corners, each one connected with gravel-slick walkways. Dozens more homes lingered just outside of a wide perimeter, likely the king’s estate.

Craning downward, they followed the ridges along the quadrant of the plateau facing them. Structures of stone and concrete had been built directly into its faces and in all levels, almost like a rope had been tied four times around and used as a model for the mile-long pathways and homes lining the stone. Almost every foothold of stone had been turned into man’s creation, and now served as both a symbol of the city’s prosperity and Feroastin’s supposed liking for stonework and masonry.

Affixed to the plateau’s west side was a massive stone bridge, framed in dozens of arches that made the entire structure strikingly similar to aqueducts built by older civilizations. The pillars holding its wideness descended down into the Lower City below, disappearing into the sea of countless houses that dotted the city-side. Said bridge extended across the entire length of the city, ending on the face of the opposite mountain. Its road disappeared further inside, but likely continued for a longer way. That was the alternate route into the city saved only for the higher class.

The Great Mostariian Sea poured into the opposite side, crashing directly against the docks with less-than pristine grace. Much of the dock was obscured from view largely thanks to the ramparts ahead, but from their vantage point they could still see scores of sea vessels, antique and modern, sailing into port. Not to mention the scent of salt that bordered on near impossible to ignore.

Raoul raised a hand overhead, shielding his sight from Pneficus’ glow. “So… that’s Vonas. It’s huge.”

Avil nodded, scrolling through an article depicting an overview of the city. “Most of the city is, as you’ve seen, actually beneath and around the plateau. It is a port city, so there are docks on the far side that we can’t see yet. Oh. And the plateau’s called King’s Mountain. Even though they’re totally different.”

“We were able to visit the Palace of Jak-Sokal during Master Avil’s father’s business trip,” Cali interposed, guiding the four of them toward the road that led to the gates. Lengthy fortified and manned ramparts were established all around the side of the city facing inland, while much of Vonas facing the ocean ahead was largely open. “If we wish to visit King Feroastin, then we would likely be able to secure an audience should we mention the Genesise name. Master Oroan made a great impression the last time.”

Raoul followed. They fell into the back of the line of incoming travelers. “I’ll keep that in mind. But we should probably look for accommodations for the night. I don’t want to sleep in the streets.”

“And food!” Idri added. “I’m eager to sample the Vonasian delights. Especially after what Avil and Cali said about it.”

“And food,” he sigh-smiled. “But accommodations first.”

The line was not willing to move for the first half hour. Groans sounded from within the crowd. Papers processing and questioning took up too much time to be reasonable. And even in the end, most people were turned away after each grueling interval. A rising disdain was beginning to fester in the crowd after only the first hour, the snail’s pace not helping their patience. Shouts of ‘hurry up!’, along with all its variations echoed. A few decided to split off from the queue, taking their chances elsewhere. Raoul couldn’t help but inwardly thank their early morning arrival. Midday was rapidly approaching, and Pneficus was making his presence unwanted the more he shone down on the stagnant crowd.

“Ugh… This is so boring,” whined Idri. “Can’t we just run into the city?”

Avil huffed, crossing his arms. He too was getting frustrated at the lack of movement. “Ignoring the chaos we’d cause from doing that, the crowd would likely tip over into a full-scale riot any moment now. We can just wait that out and take the legal route.”

“If you are hungry, Idri, I have a few leftovers from our dinner yesterday,” Cali said. She reached into her bag and unfolded a small egg and cheese sandwich bound in a wrapper. “It will tide you over until we make our way inside.”

She beamed into a smile and sheepishly took the sandwich from her hands, already digging into it. “Ah! I love you, Cali.”

Raoul kept his eyes on the arched entrance the entire time throughout, humming. By then, mentions of the root cause of the slowness had flowed in from the front to them. He couldn’t help but furrow his brows at it.

Misericorde again… He sighed inwardly. They’re trying to make sure no one else gets inside. That must mean there are already cultists in the city.

His next thoughts of turning back were quickly quelled. An armored young man strode in from the inside of the city and leaned in to whisper to one of the guards that were manning the post. Said guard then nodded, and then bid every person in the line to come forward one by one and face the young man.

The queue moved almost instantly. As the first turned up, the young man—a short and parted blonde-haired figure draped in silver-white plate and chainmail, raised a hand and began muttering an incantation. Following that, a transparent pillar of golden shone around the body of the first traveler. Raoul couldn’t quite make out what the young man said next, but it was undoubtedly a question. The traveler shook his head, to which the young man nodded and ushered them inside. He did the same for the second, and then the third, and then the fourth. In the span of a minute, an entire adventuring group had been allowed inside after undergoing the fifteen-second interrogation.

“Huh… We’re moving?” Avil mentioned, now noticing that they were taking more than two steps a minute. He turned to Raoul. “Did something happen?”

Raoul shrugged, keeping his gaze on the young man. “Looks like someone came down and sped up the screening process. The guards at the gate were taking orders from him, so he’s probably a guard captain or someone higher.”

“I’m not complaining, of course.” He continued. “At least we’ll be getting into the city before sundown. Let’s see if we can figure out more when we get closer.”