NOVEL WEB Chapter 92: Intermission: At the gate
The queue leading up to the capital's gate extended all the way into the vast farmlands that surrounded the walled city. That queue though was for those who came with carriages and, in any way or form, more luggage than they could carry on their backs.
Thankfully, a group of three huge, burly mercenaries that escorted a limping old man could make use of the common gate. The queue over there was still quite sizeable, promising at least an hour or two of just waiting for their turn… But it was a far better option than waiting for an entire day in the other, main queue!
"Name and purpose?" the guard at the smaller, common gate asked out the question for the unkempt time in the day.
"Hasan," a relatively young farmer with a huge bag of some sort of grain thrown over his shoulder pulled out a seemingly simple stick before showing it to the guard.
The man on duty merely glanced over at the entry token before waving his hand, letting the man through. Then, the next person appeared and stated their name before showcasing their token.
And so, the process continued for nearly two hours before the handicapped old man with a simple piece of wood in place for the bottom half of his left leg finally reached the end of the queue.
"Name and purpose?"
Hearing the question addressed at someone just three rounds ahead of him, the old man squinted his deep, green eyes.
"Shit," one of the mercenaries cursed when he realized that things weren't going to be as easy as they hoped they would. "They still keep up with that anti-espionage measures?" he muttered in a baffled voice. "It's no wonder we can't win any of the battles if that's where the nobles waste our taxes instead of putting it towards the army…"
"Shut it," another mercenary scolded his companion. "Cursing the nobles like that will only get you noticed. It's already a tough challenge to make them give us a slip," he added, reaching out to the heavy pouch by his belt and weighing it in his hand.
"And that's all there is to your worth, guys," the old man chuckled, before slowly getting to the very front of their small group. With a peg replacing all that should be below his left knee, it was a display of uncommon prowess for him to just waltz past those burly, healthy men as if it were nothing.
And as annoyed as the mercenaries appeared to be… they knew better than to disagree.
"Name and purpose?" the gate's guard greeted them in the exactly same way he did all the others who wanted to enter the rich and still relatively peaceful streets of the capital.
The old stepped forward while lowering his head, using the shadow that his sizeable hood threw on his face to hide it away from everyone's eyes.
"The name is Salzar, dancing with the birds," the old man spoke out, curious whether this special code would actually work.
"The hell are you talking about? You a bard or something?"
The only thing the old man managed to achieve with his words was throwing the guard off and forcing him out of the numbed state of repeating this monotone task for hours upon end. Yet, while the guard was happy that someone finally appeared to save him from his boredom… it only meant that he would be far more attentive.
'I knew trusting in this password was stupid,' the old man thought, taking a step forward and casually reaching out to rest his hand on the guard's shoulder.
From the looks of things, this old man only had the absolute lack of killing or even the most remotely negative intent in his actions to thank for not losing the hand before it could reach the guard's shoulder.
Still, if the old man's question from before shook the guard awake, his actions just now made him fully vigilant, alerted to their presence.
In this specific scenario, three burly men watch how things progress with tense looks on their faces.
"Look at me, son," the old man requested, raising his chin to move his face up, removing it from the shadow of his hood, and staring directly into the guard's eyes.
At first, surprised, the young guard's eyes quickly went wide, his lips started to tremble.
"Wait, aren't you the one and only, Sali…"
"Shush, son," the old man, or rather, Salicius the defender of the realm, the great general of the country who retired after losing half of his leg during the very last battle of the last war, tightened his hold over the soldier's arm.
"If I wanted everyone in the city to know I'm back, I wouldn't wear this smelly, coarse cloak," he pointed out.
The guard closed his open mouth and gulped down his saliva. Then, his eyes moved above the old man's shoulder and locked on the three men behind him.
"And could those three be…"
"No, they are not," Salicious cut the adventure the young guard's imagination went on with a bucket of cold water of his words. "They are just some people I hired to get me here safely. I'm old and crippled, so I need to take good care of myself," he added with a slight hint of amusement appearing on his face.
"Y-yeah…" Star-struck, the guard struggled to get the words out of his throat.
"So, can we pass?" Salicious asked while giving the kind a simple wink.
"Y-yeah, it is my pleasure to welcome you home," the young guard spoke, only to lower his voice and lean over Salicious ear. "Welcome home, general."
'When was the last time someone called me like that, I wonder…' Salicious thought only to pat the young guard's shoulder before heading inside, quickly followed by his bodyguards.
In the times of the fragile, temporary peace that their state managed to settle with the empire as a result of Salicious sacrifices was far from the perfect state their country could be. But as the small group of four passed through the long and narrow tunnel on the gate and emerged on the other side, instantly stepping into the warm noise of the bustling city…
'Yeah, this is what I fought for,' Salicious thought, stopping right as he left the gate's tunnel and taking a look at the lively streets of the capital.
This wasn't the frontier where every inch of arable land was a constant point of conflict between four different sides claiming it as theirs. The signs of the brewing war have yet to reach that far into the hills, to where the patriarch-king settled his residence.
In fact, from just a few glances here and there, Salicious could tell that just like all the times in the past, even when the country was reaching the brink of its collapse under the weight of the empire's pressure… The city still continued to grow richer and richer, fattening itself on the tariffs imposed on nearly every foreign produce that passed through its gates.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" a relatively strong voice of a man in the middle of his thirties appeared to Salicious side.
A voice he recognized even though it was his first time hearing it in years. And as the old man looked to the side…
"You came earlier than I expected. My men won't start their shifts at the gates before another hour or so," he mentioned… Only for both of the men to laugh out and feel in each other's embrace.
"It's been a while, Banjay," Salicious patted the young man's back.
"I'm glad to have you back here, general," the young man whispered, as eager to reveal Salicious identity to everyone around as much as he desired to strip naked, cover himself in oil and gooses feathers before strolling through the city's streets to be made fun of.
"What's the gist of the situation?" Salicious asked.
His summons to the capital came mirrored to his residence out in the woods he retired to. An official letter of invitation from the Patriarch that he had no right to refuse, and the less formal but much more urgent invitation from the man that he left in charge of all his affairs when he retired.
And while Salicious was willing to ignore the first message, for what could a mere patriarch of the country do to a national hero like him, the simple thirteen words that Banjay sent him proved there was no time for him to waste on doing some silly, retirement stuff.
And those thirteen words couldn't be any simpler.
'The empire will attack for Basela first, in two to three weeks' time.'