Arc 7: Chapter 11: Memories of Holy Wars
Osheim, Winter of the Year of Troubles
793 A.C.
If I’d built up my destination in my mind over weeks of hard travel and anticipation, I ended up disappointed.
Under the afternoon sun, Tol didn’t look like much. A walled trade town, on the larger side but no metropolis like Garihelm. Rows of rooftops and winding streets webbed out from a strong, simple keep. There were smaller villages and hamlets scattered about the surrounding land, little satellite communities. I knew from my preparations before this journey started that Tol was run by a mayor, a civilian who took care of daily governance while a knight-commander who answered to Osheim’s king posted in the keep.
As with many settlements in the heartlands, the churches were the most impressive buildings on display. A three-hundred year old cathedral dominated the central hill of the township, with four bell towers and a central spire stabbing into the sky. It had nothing on Myrr Arthor, the mighty basilica in Garihelm’s Bell Ward, but it still dwarfed the surrounding buildings.
I had two tasks — one, to find any trace of Lias I could in the town and figure out what he might be up to, where he’d have gone. Second, I needed to make contact with the Choir and learn what my official orders actually were before I went off on some wild cockatrice chase. It seemed a safe bet that they wanted me looking for the renegade mage, but it paid to be certain.
I would play this safe, methodical, go in with an actual plan. Back during my days as Headsman, I would often scout my quarry and build at least rudimentary strategies. At Caelfall I’d improvised as I went, but usually I’d been more purposeful.
I needed a base of operations, a place to hide out while I gathered information. If I ended up being here days, it would pay to have a spot to rest my head and avoid notice. Then I needed hallowed ground to make contact with the Onsolain, which would leave me vulnerable and exposed to capture if I wasn’t cautious. Then, assuming it was what they wanted, I’d start hunting for a wizard.
Much as it irked, I’d need Vicar for that part. If he knew where Lias kept his hidden studies, had interacted with him over recent months, then his advice would be invaluable.
If this wasn’t all an elaborate lie to lead me into a trap. I hadn’t discounted that possibility.
First, a shelter. There were scattered woods around the town, some rugged hills to the north that might work for the purpose. With some woodcraft and a touch of glamour, I could be like a ghost among the locals and—