Arc 5: Chapter 3: Long Shadows
The rain let up as Emma and I approached the gates of the Fulgurkeep. Despite that, thunder rumbled in the dark clouds swirling high above the citadel. There always seemed to be thunder above the mighty fortress of House Forger. Perhaps that is how it got its name.
Standing sentinel over the dark waters of the Riven Sea on a craggy island, the Emperor’s palace consisted of multiple interconnected castles and a copious number of jutting towers and winding curtain walls. It rose high over the lashing waters of the bay, a brooding crown of solid stone and black volcanic rock, with knights and gargoyles standing sentry at every parapet.
Three bridges connected the Fulgurkeep to different sections of the city, the sprawl of the capital blooming from its stem like a great flower. After I’d arrived in the city and reconnected with Rosanna, I had tended to use the westernmost gate connected to her personal bastion, consisting of its own castle complex within the Fulgurkeep’s whole.
No longer. Now I used the main bridge, approaching openly and announcing myself to the sentries by name. I didn’t dress in inconspicuous garb any longer, but in my blood red cloak and black chain mail, my elven axe visible at my hip where I kept it secured through an iron ring.
The guards watched me warily as the gate swung open and I stepped through. My reputation, the dramatic display I’d made in the court weeks before, and the fact I’d single handedly slain a cathedral full of priorguard here in this very city had made many nervous around me.
It wasn’t an atmosphere I enjoyed, though it had its uses. And I’d made this choice.
“You’re not going to appear before the court looking like that, are you?” Emma followed close at my heel, trying to keep up with my longer strides without looking like she tried. “You’ve still got blood and, uh… sewage on you.”
“My cloak will cover most of it,” I muttered back. “Besides, they should see there’s work that needs doing, and not all of it is clean.”
“The Emperor won’t be pleased,” Emma warned in a low voice.
“I know,” I sighed.
We had to step aside as a group of mounted nobles crossed the bridge. They were brightly dressed and bearing arms, and rode handsome steeds much closer to the classic horse than the guard cockatrices. They tossed us dubious looks as they passed, which I ignored and Emma returned with a stubborn lift of her chin.