Traveling north along the earthen road, we passed through woods and hills on our way towards Griffenheim.
To the south far behind us, the mountains remained an ever-present fixture on the horizon. Those peaks gave us something to orient by. So long as those white-capped spires rising high into the sky were at our backs, we were northward bound.
I had never seriously considered the challenges of traveling in the pre-industrial age before. Having to walk all the way to a different city was no easy feat. Without easy access to detailed maps and intricate roadway networks, we were reliant on our own ability to orient ourselves and the experience of those who had made the journey before. But give a griffon a desire to get somewhere, and eventually they’ll find a way.
We at least had a trail worn into the landscape to travel along. The grass and topsoil had been scraped away by the weight of all the travelers and wagons that had passed by previously. The wheel ruts cut into the dirt were evidence of all the harvest wagons that had taken this particular path in the past. It was fascinating to think that we were essentially part of the maintenance of the road, crushing fledgling green shoots to keep it clear as we moved.
The first day of our journey passed without anything of note occurring. It was noon approached on the second day that we reached the ruins of the old market town.
The mood was dour as we gazed upon the silent stones and broken homes.
The curtain walls that had once stood around the town had been battered down in many places, leaving gaping windows into the town inside. Most of the towers had been felled, with only one left standing defiantly over the town.
The settlement itself was a desolate wasteland inside, with swaths blackened by fires that had long since burnt themselves out. Near the center of the town, the keep that once was the keystone of the defenses had been absolutely ravaged. It was barely recognizable as having been a castle at all.
It was a haunting sight to behold.
“Well, there it is.” I turned to look at Cynthia as she quietly spoke. “There’s what’s left of the market town I knew. That’s the ruins of Eyrinholm.”
There was a brief pause as we all assessed the ruins, before Cynthia spoke up again. “The river up ahead gets pretty shallow just past the town. We should be able to cross there easily enough.”
“Shouldn’t there be a bridge somewhere down in Eyrinholm there? Why don’t we try crossing there, take the easier road?” I asked.
The others were quick to voice their complaints at that plan.
“No way I’m risking walking through that place! Who knows what’s living in those ruins now?” Cynthia practically shouted at me. “Leave the delving to bounty hunters and that sort of folk. Dead places like this always end up attracting huge numbers of monsters to live in them. Something draws them there, and I don't want to know what it is.”
Another one of the villagers who had been to the city chipped in next. “I’ve heard that it’s got to do with the fact that there’s loads of big dark spaces for them to crawl into. End of the day though, Cynthia’s right. I’d rather stay far away from places like that, especially when I’m stuck to a cart. We’ll find a way across the water at some other point.”
“Let’s just go now. I don’t want to be sitting up here in the open more than I have to,” Cynthia said.
As we slipped back from the crest of the hill, I spotted the sudden shift of movement within the city. A massive lithe shape was slinking just in the shadow of the wall. Maybe the long road was the best call after all.
I wondered why none of the other cities or towns had come to reclaim this place. Leaving something like this to sit and fester seemed a poor choice for the safety of everyone living in the area.
Maybe it was too much of an investment to clear it out? Or there were just better things to spend your armies on. There was no way that it would be cheap or easy to clear out a place like that. Better to just pay the groups of mercenaries to keep the place contained instead of paying the massive costs to purge it.
We skirted around the ruins with as wide a berth as we could while still on the flat farmlands that let us keep a decent pace. Every griffon in the party threw the ruins nervous glances every now and then, making sure that nothing inside was looking out at us.
There was something deeply unsettling about that place. It was nothing like the ruined castles you saw dotting the countryside back home. Those fortresses and monasteries sitting overgrown and silent, a beautiful sight despite their disrepair. Eyrinholm was a place of ruin and despair. An ominous stain on the land, one that would persist until it either withered away or it was torn out.
Fording the river was a simple enough matter, even if it was exhausting work to try and keep the cart stable and secure while pushing it over the riverbed. For all that flight made traveling light a breeze, any sizable cargo was far too heavy to fly. The result in this case was a bunch of wet feathers and fur slogging across the river.
The rest of the travels were easy now that we were on the right side of the waters. It was a few more days of walking before we finally reached the coast, and the city that sat on it.
As we approached, I watched the walls of the city rise up to greet us. Those walls were an impressive sight indeed. They rose high into the air, nearly forty feet if I were to guess. And that didn’t even include the numerous gatehouses and towers that dotted the perimeter.
In front of the walls, there was a plethora of new construction popping up. Timber frames of future buildings rose as the city expanded outwards for what might have been the first time in a century.
Out of all the sights the city offered us as we came into view though, the castle dominated them all in scale and grandeur.
Sitting atop the peak of the tallest hill in the city, easily overlooked the entire city, and the walls themselves.
We soon joined the main roads of the city that led towards the gatehouse. Unlike the dirt trails that we had traveled on so far, here the road was a proper construction. Paving stones and drainage ditches, the cart passed far easier overtop it. It was a nice change of pace, and a sign that Griffenheim had a vested interest in the affairs outside of its walls.
Surroundings like us. There was much to do in the city to prepare for the future of Blackwood and our future growth.
At the gate we joined a queue of griffons waiting to get through the walls. Even without the harvest rush, there still was a significant number of griffs moving in and out of the city though the gateway. Most likely a number of laborers and craftsgriffs working on the new districts, who passed through the gate easily before flying to their destination. The majority of the carts in the line waiting to enter belonged to merchants though.
Or at least I thought that they were merchants. The amount of weaponry and guards that they possessed left me second-guessing that assessment though. Those caravanners looked to be even better equipped than the guards at the gate. But despite their fearsome armaments, their wagons were filled with decidedly mundane goods. Furs, cloths, and salt. Those couldn’t have been particularly profitable routes to run with such pricey security. Not unless the prices they were demanding for them were absolutely exorbitant.
Eventually our turn arrived, and the guards at the gate raised their brows at what we had brought to market today. That reaction had been expected though. A cart chock-full of weapons was a strange offering to come from a farming village.
They let us through without much fuss regardless, and a brief inquiry with the guards informed me that the castle was the place to go to receive the payout from the bounties.
The gate opened up onto a wide but still crowded street. And looking down the streets that branched off of it, it seemed that it was the only wide street in the city.
Griffenheim was filled with the signs of a city overgrown and bursting at the seams.
Taking a look down the side streets we passed by, the roads there changed construction technique often as they zigzagged haphazardly through the mess of multi-story buildings.
It didn’t take long for the reason for the different roads to click in my mind. The nicer cobbles were the remains of the old streets, the original lanes that existed when the city was built. But over time they had been paved over, streets narrowed and redrawn. All in order to cram more and more buildings to house the excessive population. Shanties and other small buildings sprouted like weeds in any space they could.
Whatever neat urban planning and tidy city had once sat here, it had long since been pushed to the side as the city grew in size without being able to escape from its shell. At least griffons had a couple things going for them in such a cramped space.
One of the most interesting to see was how most of the buildings around us had a balcony that essentially acted as the front door of the residence. Flying was definitely an advantage to life in a disorganized city. Most pedestrians chose to navigate by flight, leaving the street below to be dominated by the carts and commerce of the city.
Shopfronts and workshops dominated the streets around us, as we walked below with our cart. Signs showed the specialty of the shop in finely painted images. Carpenters, bakeries, and one with a sign with a dragon on it. That one turned out to be a leatherworker who was proud that they had access to wyvern leather. Sort of like a crocodile handbag shop, and just as expensive as one could be expect from any of these main street shops.
We followed the main flow of carts towards the main market square. There it was a hum of activity as could always be expected. We brought our cart towards the section catering to those who looked to expand their capabilities for violence. Once we found an open enough space we prepared our stall, and I took the chance to wander around a while and investigate the other offerings.
Besides the mundane equipment, there were a series of heavily guarded storefronts on the periphery, advertising the sale of enchanted armaments and armors. While those hawking ordinary weapons had stalls or carts like ours, these shops were ornate and heavily guarded. Fancy barred windows displayed as sorts of glowing swords, axes, and helmets.
I paused in front of one of them to take a closer look. The guard standing next to the door watched me carefully as I looked at an exquisitely crafted dagger sitting on a pillow, sitting just behind a mesh of iron. It glowed a pale blue, emanating from a series of runes carved into the blade.
“How do these enchantments work anyways?” I wondered quietly. I wasn’t really expecting to receive an answer, but the guard must have heard me and seen a potential customer. He gave me a response to the rhetorical question I posed.
“I can’t tell you the details sir. I’m no runesmith, and even if I was I would spill trade secrets,” The guard stated. “But the master of this shop is skilled at their craft. He uses only the highest quality magical materials to ignite the runic array. And the runes themselves are high quality.
Take that dagger you seem so fond of. Its blade has been given an edge unmatchable for ordinary iron thanks to both the careful construction of the runes, and the use of razorworm scales to ignite them only enhances the effectiveness. The hunters that supply us do well in their work.”
The sales pitch was interrupted by a heavily scarred griff butting into the conversation with a cackle. “Yeah, but you bastards are always looking to short-change us when we get back here. Look at you Kaspar, sitting all pretty guarding some fat griffs shop after everything that’s happened. Left the rest of us to go fighting and dying in the same old hunts.”
“Hello there, Oskar,” The guard replied tersely, voice switching from attempting eloquence to rougher speech. “I’m talking with this good griff right now. If you’ve brought us something to sell, well dump it inside then fuck off.”
The bitterness in the exchange took me by surprise, and I found myself turning my head to try and give some face. As I did so, I couldn’t help but notice the tension that seemed to be present between a lot of the ones browsing the weapon market and the merchant guards protecting it.
“What was that about?” I asked the guard as the bounty hunter disappeared inside.
He let out an irritated sigh before responding. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with sir. Just some old blood between us. The usual troubles between the hunters who settle down and the ones who don’t.”
Kasper then turned the focus back to the sale. Maybe he got commission on sales after pushing the merchandise. I had to leave him disappointed though. The price he gave was far beyond what I could reasonably afford. Shiny toys would have to wait until I had gotten significantly deeper pockets.
Returning to the villagers, I was pleased to see the enterprise up and running. Selling off most of the bandit equipment would net us some decent funds, but it was only one of the sources of capital we were here to collect though.
I was about to head off to the castle to collect the bounties, and to make my formal introduction to the court. As such I bid the rest of the villagers goodbye, and began my fumbling flight towards the castle.
Upon cresting the hill, I was faced with my second set of gates for the day. These ones were a little more exclusive to pass through though.
Approaching the soldiers standing guard, they fixed me with the same steady glare that every other griffon seeking entry received. There was a difference between me and the various porters supplying the castle though. I was part of the peerage now.
“Greetings, I am Knight Geralt, lord of the village of Blackwood. I have come to collect the bounties on a number of bandits that attacked the village.” I dug out both the piece of paper with the names on it as well as the seal that Silas had left us. I passed both of them over to the guards.
They skipped right over the paper, and instead grabbed the seal. After a few long moments of careful inspection, the one holding it in nodded in approval before handing it back over to me.
“Very well, you may enter lord. The treasury can pay out your bounties for you. Most of the court is currently assembled in the grand hall at the moment as well, should you wish to attend.” With that they stepped aside to allow me to pass into the castle courtyard.
The keep stood high on the other end of the yard, with another open gate and ramp leading up to it. The courtyard I was in was dotted with a number of other buildings around it. Quarters for the guards, storage and the other castle necessities I presumed.
The treasury was likely to be closer to the keep and the more secure part of the castle. That would have to come afterwards though. With the court apparently being held at this very moment, it was a prime chance to introduce myself and pay respects.
I approached the keep, and the guards at the door offered a salute before cracking open one of the heavy wooden doors to allow me entrance.
Entering the room, I was struck by the fact that the grand hall was a very fitting description. The ceiling was far higher than I expected for a medieval castle, maybe a dozen feet high. Two rows of columns supported the roof, leading down towards the raised throne at the other end. Sitting on that throne looking thoroughly bored was Silas himself.
My entrance to the room went unannounced, but the opening of the doors had drawn the attention of a number of the griffons throughout the room. They paid a few moments of mind as I walked in, before turning back to their own conversations.
Silas raised his head from the claw and rested to look at the new appearance. His eyes brightened in recognition, and he gestured for me to approach.
I let out a small sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t be left wondering about whether I was the one who was supposed to be approaching him for this.
As I stepped up to the throne he sat on, the courtiers that were gathered in front stepped to the side to allow the ceremony without paying me any mind.
“Welcome, Geralt!” Silas greeted me warmly. “I am pleased to see you have arrived so soon. It is nice to have another friendly face around.”
Silas looked towards one side of the room, where a large group of griffons were gathered in conversation. His eyes hardened a bit while looking at them, but his attention soon returned to me.
“Please, take some time finding your footing here. I am certain that you will find success for both your village and the realm soon. As well, I would be a poor host if I did not offer you a room for your stay.”
“Thank you for your words, Lord Silas. I would love to accept the offer of lodging.” I answered with a bow.
With that the other griffons who had initially stepped to the side closed back in to continue their conversation. Taking the hint, I gave Silas another bow and left him to consider his conversation.
I faded into the background of the court, and tried to focus on what all the other griffons in the room were doing before I stepped into the fray myself. The hall was large, and was not close to being filled. Instead there were clusters of griffon nobles scattered around the room.
Something that I noticed as I looked around was that most of the courtiers were actually wearing fancy clothes. I had never really thought about it before, but griffons didn’t really seem to wear clothes.
All the clothing that I had seen up until this point were purely functional. Cloaks, hats, and I supposed I could group gambesons and armor in there as well.
These griffons were wearing fancy coats and dresses in the room. Everyone was armed as well, primarily with swords. Swords were clearly the weapons of choice for the nobility, and the blades sported were often much more ornate than the plain iron and plain leather that I had around my waist.
The center of the hall was left relatively clear with most gathered around the pillars holding up the room. If someone was needed for the conversation taking place around the throne, they were sought out by one of the guards and invited. None turned down the opportunity to speak with the highest lord of the land.
Standing alone was making me conspicuous, and I felt the occasional glance sent my way as I stood there looking like a nervous child. I felt very exposed standing there, so I moved to join in the conversation of the nearest group of griffs. The discussion was about the recently implemented travel reforms that had just passed through the court.
Apparently they had been a hotly contested issue, and had dragged through the court for ages. It had gotten to the point that some of the most powerful lords of the towns in Griffenheim’s hinterlands had actually taken the trip to the city themselves to get involved. That was allegedly a rarity, with those lords usually leaving their presence in the court in the form of a representative.
Maybe the journey was too far for them to make often, or maybe those ruling here in Griffenheim didn’t have much influence outside of the city, even within their own alleged territory. I hoped it was the former rather than the latter.
“But with the speed that couriers can fly letters now, there is no reason for them to leave their holds to come in person,” One of the nobles said.
“Your point is empty. If they can communicate with the city with a delay in messages of only a few days, why would they still refuse to contribute to many of the discussions?” Another disagreed.
“Perhaps another perspective would be valuable here. What do you think of the whole affair then, good sir? I haven’t seen your face around before.” The first griffon turned to speak with me.
I was snapped out of my blind observations by the sudden address. All of a sudden, I was aware that all the eyes of the group that I was effectively eavesdropping on were on me instead.
“I’m sorry, I was lost in my own thoughts there for a moment. Could someone repeat the question?” I stammered out.
“I was asking you if you think that the coalition of western townships will be able to succeed.”
“Succeed in what?”
The rest of the peers looked between themselves. “In getting the laws repealed in their territories. Or at least getting some special privileges out of the whole affair.”
“I… I’m afraid I don’t know what you're talking about. This is the first time I've heard of this.”
“Really, you have no clue?” They eyed me up. “Are you sure you are in the right place? I thought that the recent power struggle was the talk of every silver-winged griffon in the realm.”
“I’m afraid that I‘m new to my title. And before that, I had just been dumped in the woods outside a village. I fought off a band of bandits, impressed Silas, and here I am.” I confessed.
“What? He placed some complete foreigner in charge of a village just like that?” There were ripples of shock through the assembled griffs.
“Hey! I’m no idiot. I have an education, and I have plans. I just don’t have any political experience, and I have no idea what’s going on. I just got here!” I replied, mildly offended by their reactions.
“Calm down, good sir! I meant no offense by it. I had heard that an upstart had usurped the village of Blackwood from underneath the beaks of a merchant family, but I would have thought it had gone to a griffon with at least some leverage in the realm. To hear Lord Silas stands by such decisions made over drink, it is disquieting. And it is Lord Silas to you sir, do not forget his title when you address him,” the leading griffon replied.
The contents of my revelation had not gone over well with my audience, and I watched as some griffons slunk out of the circle to join up with other groups in the hall. The rumors started spreading quickly after that point.
The conversations that used to be warm and soft, suddenly turned sharper as low chatting became hissing whispers. The new knight was proving to be a very unpopular choice among the court. I was no valiant warrior of a hundred battles or notable merchant that was recognized for my talents. I was a complete outsider, chosen virtually on a whim.
As I watched the rest of the griffons I had spoken to distance themselves from me, Silas looked up from his affairs at the change in atmosphere of the room. One of the courtiers whispered in his ear and he looked at me, confused and irritated.
It was horribly embarrassing, and I didn’t know how I could go about fixing it. Not even a full hour into my first appearance and I had already burned my own reputation and thrown embers on Silas’s. Lord Silas, I reminded myself.
I slipped out of the hall, and asked one of the staff to bring me to my guest quarters. Things could have gone a little bit better back there.
The guest quarters that I was shown to might not have been the most luxurious suite in the castle, but it was still beyond what I had access to since arriving in the world. I had a bed with warm and well woven blankets sitting atop it. Taking a closer look, the bed was made of proper wool instead of the straw mattresses that we slept on back in Blackwood. I had even gotten once since I became lord there.
The rest of the room’s small furnishings were hooks for the cloaks and coats that I didn’t own. At least I could hook my saddlebags on them.
I had a small table in the room as well. It even had a true candle sitting atop it, instead of the rushlights that every griffon in Blackwood used. There was an inkpot and a quill on it, so it was intended to be a desk. Only a few sections of paper though, along with a short little blade for cutting that paper. Likely intended for letters, though I would see if I could squirrel away a sheet or two for my own use when I left.
With nothing left to do. I sat down at the desk and started to work on my mill. Focusing on the material was a fine distraction from the political. Or at least that was what I had hoped.
It was very difficult to make a sketch with ink and quill. Especially since I had no idea how to work a pen and quill properly. I wondered if the quill was a griffon feather. That would be a pretty cheap way of making them I supposed. But I needed some charcoal if I was going to get any work done here.
I was just about to open the door to go find some, where someone started to knock on it. I sighed as I got up to answer it. What did they want now? As I opened it though, I was faced with one of the city's soldiers.
“Are you Knight Geralt?” The guard inquired.
“I am,” I replied hesitantly. “And may I ask why you are searching for me?”
“I apologize for disturbing you lord. But I brought a message from Lady Elaine of Griffenheim,” The guard responded with a salute. “She requests that you meet with her tonight before you retire. If you follow me, I will lead you to her study.”
They then waved for me to follow, and then began walking down the halls.
I followed close behind, wondering what had prompted this meeting. I knew that I had made a mess of things just now, but she wouldn't try and dispose of me right away, would she? I had already been well acquainted with the reputation Lady Elaine had swirling around her, and I was more than a little reluctant to step into the spider's lair.
It was only a short walk before we reached the Lady Elaine's study. All that remained between me and her was a heavy oaken door. My escort rapped on the dark wood, before swinging the door open. Through the open frame I could see a griffon waiting patiently behind a massive wooden desk. She sat there with her claws folded in front of her, with a face carefully neutral.
Shuffling through the gateway, the guard shut the door behind me. It was only after escape was sealed that Elaine spoke.
“Greeting, Knight Geralt,” She opened with a cold, calculating tone. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to meet with you ever since my brother regaled me with your talents. So far though, I must say you haven't left a strong first impression today."
With that ominous statement, the meeting began.