Legacy by Christopher Pastrana (best reads txt) 📕

            "Icileian shifters are nobles. Peasants aren't trained in the arts. I have no skill with conventional weapons either." Reinhardt did his best to present himself as non-threatening, but even for an Icileian he was large. Standing almost a full foot and a half taller than all of the soldiers he looked dangerous enough to raise concerns. If they had taken the time to search him they would have been worried further.

            "We can't trust the words of these vultures. Send him away from Odum." This soldier was even further back than the rest. Reinhardt hadn't noticed that nearly two dozen soldiers had gathered now. Nobody was questioning the travelers anymore as they had taken up arms and moved to keep Reinhardt from entering the city. His attempt to enter without causing a stir had turned out to be impossible.

            The door of a nearby guard shack slammed against the wall as another man emerged. His uniform was slightly different from the others, and was silver and grey instead of white, colors of the wind masters guard.

            "What is the hold up? Has one Icileian farmer brought the entire city to a standstill? If this happens every time one of them moves through the gates you all will single handedly have let them end our economy. Peasant, on your way."

            Not bothering to reply with the man's command, Reinhardt returned his hood to its place on covering his head, and walked past the soldiers. Men moved away from him, willing to show their distrust of the Icileian, even though they had been reprimanded for not doing their jobs.

            The guardsman met Reinhardt's eye as they came close. Something about the way the he looked at him made Reinhardt uneasy. From his own travels as a farmer there was never word of being able to tell if someone was an elementalist until they used their gift, but it was impossible to know if the same rules applied to him as the others. Elementalists may be able to tell that something was different about him.

            Finally inside the city Reinhardt soaked in the sights. From outside it was impossible to see the going-ons of Odum, another defense against shifters perhaps, but the city was alive with life. Even with winter underway the streets were full of people. Travelers walked up and down the roads searching through carts of goods. Beggars huddled together for warmth in some of the alleys, fighting over trash and food that clearly should not be eaten.

            It was hard to say how many people actually lived in the market city but it had to be in the tens of thousands. Reinhardt had never been to a city as large as this during any of his trips to sell supplies. every building was crafted with the environment in mind. Harsh winds and heavy storms made the Duzee mountains a hard place to live, especially during the winter months.

            Each building stood one story tall, and was constructed of heavy stone, Reinhardt couldn't place what type it was. Instead of the typical square buildings he saw in Icilee the Odum homes were circular, helping to avoid direct contact with the wind. Small windows limited the exposure to the cold but provided little view from the homes.

            Reinhardt pushed his way through the streets, searching for the closest pub. Spotting a large wooden sign hanging outside one building he decided on giving it a try. People where still eyeing him suspiciously, but they hadn't paid him as close attention since he entered the city.

            The chiseled marks on the sign depicted an interesting scenario of a man being shot multiple times with a barrage of arrows. Reinhardt didn't know much of the Duzee culture so he didn't know if the sign meant anything to them, but it seemed odd for a store's logo.

            With little choice he decided that it would be as good a spot as any to stop for rest. Getting closer he could see the words 'An té nach bhfuil láidir, ní foláir dó bheith glic' scratched into the wood around the picture. Having lived in Icilee for his entire life he couldn't read or understand the Duzee language but something about the phrase just didn't sound right. Not having much of a choice he pushed the door open and went inside.

            Before the heavy wooden door closed Reinhardt could see soldiers walking the streets, emerging from the street connecting to the gate. It was pure luck that the door closed as the guardsman turned the corner and walked into the street he had just been on. Reinhardt was hoping he was not the reason these guards had left their post, but wasn't going to bet money on it.

            Smoke filled his nose as he turned into the Pub. Consisting of one visible room, the small building had one other exit and he assumed that was back into the kitchen or storage room. For a place as deceivingly small as it was there was there was plenty of space. Able to fit nearly twice as many tables as was currently available, everybody was more than comfortably.

            A faint odor caught his attention but he couldn't place where he had smelled it before. The limited light made it nearly impossible to see through the thick smoke of lush leaves, a commonly smoked plant, especially by middle class citizens. Mimicking the effects of alcohol, the leaves were popular nearly everywhere in Icilee and Duzee.

            Everyone was looking at him as he moved further into the pub. Even though nobody moved from where they were sitting it was clear that they all had weapons readily available. Moving quickly yet smoothly between tables wasn't hard considering the distance between each table, but he still did his best to not move too close to any single group of patrons. Something about them all made him feel uneasy and they probably felt the same way with him in the room.

            Before he reached the bar a large mug of beer was already waiting for him. It was a bit surprising to see somebody being kind to him, though he suspected much of that was due to the prospect of money. The shorter man behind the counter was thin and looked to be decently strong. It wasn't exactly what he was expecting from a bartender but he had never met too many of them in his life so his idea of them was probably wrong.

            "How can I help ya this morn'". His accent was thick and he didn't recognize it at all. It didn't carry the simple grace that the Duzee language did, it seemed more harsh and clunky, almost drunken. Even stranger was the man's eyes. Unlike most drunks he had ever met there was a strange sharpness to his dark green eyes. Reinhardt had heard rumors of the Ental people but had never met one before. Why was an Ental bartender halfway across the world 

            "Just looking to lay low and let the chill pass, and a few pints wouldn't hurt." The bartender slid another large mug down to him and pulled out a rag so he could clean some that had been returned to him by the other patrons. Sitting at a tall stool near the counter Reinhardt let the time pass. Hoping that the searching guards would pass the place and then he would be able to continue on.

            While he had some time he tried to figure out where he was going. Something seemed to be pulling him in this direction though he didn't know what. On the other side of this city would be the mountain range that it was tucked near, and after that should be a forests and then the ocean. There was nothing out there that even shows up on a map, but something was pulling him towards the coastline.

            "Looks like we have guests." At the mention of guests Reinhardt turned back around and saw that the elementalist who had been following him had walked into the pub and he wasn't alone. Conversation in the room had dropped to nothing and everybody was watching the guards, and especially the brightly dressed man who wore the colors of the Duzee guard. Where people had only watched Reinhardt walk in they stood now. It was clear the room was teetering between calmness and chaos and this man could be the one who tipped it.

            "I've come for him." He pointed at Reinhardt and began to walk forward. When somebody moved to cut him off the man drew his sword. "Remove yourself and I won't kill you, we only want that man but we will cut down anybody who tries to stop us."

            "May I ask why ya want him so badly? Seems harmless to me?" The bartender had finally stopped cleaning mugs and was giving his new guests his complete attention. His accent had almost faded completely and Reinhardt wondered why he was hiding it.

            "I'm taking him to the Nivged for questioning. The rest isn't your concern." With a motion of his head two of the soldiers who had come in with him moved towards Reinhardt but couldn't get close to him. Some of the men in the room drew their own swords and moved to cut the Duzee soldiers off. Tension in the room grew as both sides prepared for a fight.

            "Enough." Reinhardt's heavy boots hit the floor as he lowered himself from the stool he had been watching from. A few of the nearby men lowered their weapons. "There is no need for a fight here." Removing the old sword he wore around his waist he handed it over to the Duzee soldiers willingly and left with the group. Soldiers waited for him to leave before continuing out the door. The bartender watched him carefully as he was rushed into the streets. Reinhardt was glad he had avoided any unnecessary bloodshed but was altogether shocked that they hadn't checked him for any more weapons. A small smile crossed his face but he tried to not let anybody see it.

                It had been several weeks since they had left the Odum. As they traveled towards the capital city of Nivged the caravan, led by the guardsman, took routine stops to perform maintenance and other activities. When they stopped one of the guards would always bring him some food, but they never spoke to the Icileian. Reinhardt didn't know why he was being brought to Nivged but he figured it wouldn't be a pleasant stop.

                After a few days of travel the guards became complacent with their speech near their captives.