Open Syliras: The Jewel of Sylira, Symbol of Hope

[Karyk]

Summer 1, 517 Syna was slowly creeping over the sky, having only just recently risen from her nocturnal slumber. Karyk was all smiles at first, Sharay sitting next to him, needlessly holding the reins while Karyk called out verbal commands to Bobertha and Susanick. They were passing by fields and fields of plants. But something seemed off. They were scrawny, sparse, with bugs everywhere. A jovial rustled spread through the caravan. Today was the arrival day, this terrible journey was coming to an end. But Karyk's smile dwindled. As they traveled along the Kabrin Road, they saw some farmers and some patrolling knights, but Karyk saw more than that. He saw gaunt faces, nervous glances, that slight shake in the eyes of desperation. He knew that look. He'd worn that look. It was the same he'd seen on every person in this caravan only days before. The same he'd worn the day before he left Zeltiva. Then she rose from the fields of dirty grain, a true gem in this band of gold, a bastion, practically its own mountain. Syliras was finally in sight. Many in the caravan began to whoop and cheer, and the caravan bristled in excitement, the pace picking up enthusiastically. And Karyk forgot his worries. Seeing that massive castle brought out a hope from within him. It was done, they'd done it. He'd done it. The scouts all began returning to the caravan, their protections and guidance no longer needed. Karyk hoped they had a large enough tavern for them all. He planned on cracking open his barrel of Kelp Beer first thing, to celebrate the end to this mess. Karyk's carriage was empty on the inside save for the gear they moved in. It had gotten so hot, the passengers decided to ride up on top instead. Karyk called over his shoulder, "We're here. We're finally here." Continuing to follow the road, Karyk drove the carriage right up to the gate, impressed at just how big the city walls were, how many people walked the towers and roads coming and going. This city certainly was massive. Karyk stopped the oxen, and hopped down, approaching the gate guards, for that's what the guards said was customary to do. He had many questions for them, where to park their wagons and animals, where they could stay the night, where could they find a good, home cooked meal? Relief was flooding over him, his shoulders finally resting from this burden. This was their new home. They were home.

[Balian Martell]

Balian stifled a yawn, stemming from mixture of tiredness and boredom. Haven woken a few bells before down, the young squire had not reached the amount of sleep that he had hoped. As it was, He stood guard at his assigned post within the main courtyard of the great fortress city. He never liked these assignments, being stationed at a single spot within the castle. His task was two fold, to help citizens that requested his aid, but more importantly, to maintain order. He hoped the sword that hung at his belt did enough to discourage any would be trouble makers; his own confidence at enforcing order was low to say the least. Not that his worry had any merit, at these early hours of the day there were barely any souls walking, mainly just the knights on patrol, or business owners just now getting ready for the day ahead.

A ray of light struck his face, breaking him from his thoughts. Looking up he saw that Syna had begun to raise within the sky. For however much he might dislike this assignment, he should at least thank which ever god that bothered to show him kindness for being assigned to the courtyard. Out here at least, he could almost forget the suffocating walls of the city. Almost. A second yawn threatened to emerge, this time overpowering any attempt to stifle it.

From his post, Balian actually had a pretty decent view of the courtyard. He had a clear view to the gate house, with the Guards ready at their post, although traffic at this hour was minimal. Messengers and errand boys had already began their daily task of scurrying around the city, but the real center of activity were the stables. Poor sods, he thought. The stable hands had been up even before Balian, attending to the horses and their various needs. Balian quietly admired their dedication for a few ticks before returning to his task. Truth be told, there was not much to do, just stand there and wait for something to happen. As luck would have it, something soon did.

A flurry of activity at the gate drew his attention. A wagon had suddenly approached, stirring the guards from their positions. Balian raised an eyebrow in mild interests, his attention thankfully captured.

Who might that be?

[Samuel Longwell]

Samuel was in a rush. He had been asked to head to Endrykas for The Order, and had not been given long to prepare. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd spoken Pavi, but when told to do something by his superiors Samuel did it. The knight would just have to brush up on the language while he was there. He was to leave early the next day, so he needed to complete his preparations before evening. He stepped inside the Butchers, nodding in greeting to Dino.

“Sorry, can't stay for long.” Samuel said. “Not got much time to spare.” Dino's eyes lit up at this, a customer eager to complete a deal would be less likely to try and haggle.

“Of course Ser, what will you be requiring?” the butcher replied.

“I'd like 3lbs of meat that keeps well. Doesn't need to be anything too fancy, I just need to be able to take it on the road.” Samuel explained.

Dino nodded, then pulled out some meat. “Here we've got 3lbs of jerked venison. Yours for only 36 Miza.” Samuel stared in amazement, there was no way he was going to pay that kind of money.

“How about you offer me something significantly cheaper,” Samuel said, glaring at the man behind the counter. “I did say nothing too fancy.” He refused to pay such a ridiculous amount of money for such a small amount of meat.

Dino's smile waned slightly, then produced some corned beef instead. A chime later, Samuel emerged from the building with 3lbs of corned beef. He'd spent a much more reasonable 10gm. The knight still wasn't entirely happy with the price, but he had neither the time nor the patience to negotiate with the butcher. A disturbance from the gate drew Samuel's attention and he paused briefly, wondering what was going on.

Many thanks to Prophet for the box code.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

She'd been gifted a reprieve by Fildred, whom smiled knowingly with a wink when he'd said, "Take the last few days off. You deserve it." She wasn't certain if he'd meant it for all her diligence in duty the entire trip or because she'd lightened Karyk's emotions. Or maybe mercifully he'd noticed how her feet had begun to drag several days ago - loath to see it all come to an end. An end and a beginning... but so much still uncertain. Sylrias or Riverfall? She'd worked so hard, setting her heart on this apprenticeship with Fallon, but another thief had stolen it right out from under her nose while she wasn't looking. Karyk would be settling his family in and although his words reverberated through her mind, 'I ain't goin' anywhere,' she felt a pit of despair growing in her gut that she and he would be parting. Sitting upon the bench with Sharay between them keeping the cows distracted, she ruffles the little one's hair and for a moment returns the young girl's playful grin. Family meant the world to him. For that alone she felt she should move on to Riverfall rather than settle for a short but wonderful life. She lost herself for a moment imagining a quaint cabin near the water where they could fish for Speckled Browncoats and raise a litter of amber and brown-eyed children. They made beautiful babies together. But their time is haunted knowing in a few brief years she would be gone, leaving him to raise their children on his own. He might not realize it now; but she knew he deserved so much more than she could offer. Wanting to spend every increasingly rare, priceless chime with him while feeling herself dying a little inside; her eyes strayed, avoiding his gaze so seeing her pain would not dampen his relief at their arrival. Yet over the last miles her fingers crept across the back of the bench to clutch greedily at his hand. Did she have the strength to do what was right? Did she know what the right thing to do was? Should she stay or should she go? Would he follow if she went? One day.... Sharing a squeeze she released his hand but could not meet that grin of his with more than a small lift of her lips. She wondered if drowning so close to being rescued felt anything like this.

[Baelin Holt]

Baelin considered himself to be a patient man. Yet here he was, nerves sufficiently racked and anxiety gnawing away at what little was left of his sanity. It had been difficult enough to make the monumental and potentially disastrous decision to leave Syliras. It had been even more distressing to leave the Ironworks and Fredrick behind. Yet neither of those ordeals came anywhere close to the wearying task of actually finding a way out of this city.

There had been a ship heading to Riverfall not too long ago... But the last time he had interacted with an Akalak had hardly gone well. An insult here, a haymaker there, and then the stranger had proved just how solidly he outclassed Baelin in only a matter of ticks. The blue man had barely looked like he was trying, and yet could have easily trounced the half-Dhani. With how disastrous that short meeting had been, Baelin was hardly inclined to move to a city filled to the brim with them.

And so here he still was, drifting between the Broken Casket by the docks and the Rearing Stallion near the main gates. Hoping to hear word of some kind of passage he could join to get out of this oppressive fortress of peace.

Though it was still early, today felt like it was shaping up to be another bust. The Rearing Stallion was quiet, with the conversation between two locals being the only thing to break the silence. Baelin had become so accustomed to the slow, early morning business that he nearly jumped out of his skin when another patron (somehow already well into his cups) slammed down his mug and enthusiastically demanded another.

Wasting my time, he thought, grinding his teeth together. There was no one here to gain passage with. Shyke, he’d likely have better luck lurking about the White Swan than waiting around here.

Light spilled into the room as the front door swung open, causing Baelin to look up from his thoughts. He turned to see if the newcomer was an unfamiliar face, but the man in the doorway only took a tick for his eyes to adjust before he made his way over to the pair of conversing Sylirans.

No luck.

That just about exhausted what little was left of his patience. Baelin pushed out of his seat and made for the exit, stopping for a brief tick at the threshold to let his eyes adjust to the daylight. He had been expecting to see the usual assortment of people about their business in the Gates. What he hadn’t been expecting was the small group that was starting to form near the Main Gates. They seemed to be amassing together in the way that groups of bystanders usually did: to watch something they had no business being a part of.

On a normal day, Baelin would turn heel and leave it be. But this was hardly a normal day, was it? Scratching the back of his hand, Baelin went to go join the crowd.

[Tollivant Brennson]

As Tollivant approached Syliras from the south, he could see a familiar sight in the distance: a long, straggling line of carriages, oxen and people, all laden with baggage and limping in some form or another. The cartographer had been absent from the caravan for several days, having turned south down an agricultural track once the road started heading through fields. His destination had been the Mithryn Outpost, the little farming village in the heart of Sylira's agricultural land. The goodbyes when he had peeled off had been brief, as he knew he would see everyone again in a few days, once his job at the Mithryn Outpost was done. But he was looking forward to greeting them all on this happy day, the end of their long, arduous journey across the Wildlands. It had been a hard time, but also one in which he had come to know a group of people of the sort he had never really spent time with before, and he had come to respect and appreciate them all: Karyk's wisdom, so different from Tollivant's book learning but just as valuable; Salara's loyalty and bravery; Oleander's calm kindness; Kesh's curiosity and support. He was looking forward to staying in touch with them all once they were safely inside Syliras, reminiscing about old times over a few mugs of ale, maybe even one day adventuring again with some of them. And so his pace quickened as he approached the group, his pack on his back and his staff in one hand.

He greeted them enthusiastically,and then winced as his wide smile brought all the feeling back into the bruises that had flowered on his face during his absence from the caravan, the product of an unfortunate run-in with some bandits plaguing the southern Syliran fields. He felt almost proud of how much he now looked the part of an adventurer, what with the bruises and the scars from the wolf scratches he had got weeks before. There was a little crowd of onlookers gathering around their caravan, which was understandable as it surely wasn't every day that a large group of migrants arrived at the city gates. But he ignored the strangers for now, more interested in talking to his companions.

'You made it!' he said happily, 'and right on time too! I hope the last few days didn't throw up any more trouble.' There were no obvious extra scrapes and bruises, but they were all so utterly dusty and travel-weary that it was impossible to tell either way. 'It's impressive, isn't it,' he commented, gazing up at the towering stone castle and addressing his remark to the group in general. 'I can't wait to get inside.' Salara seemed strangely sad, which he put down to the emotion of finally having arrived. Even in the middle of the relief that they had finally arrived, he himself felt almost regretful that the journey was coming to an end. It felt like the end of an era. He smiled sympathetically, and then followed her gaze to where Karyk was standing takling to the guards. He must be asking for information. Tollivant waited eagerly with the others to hear what the shipwright would learn, and when they would be allowed to enter the city they had all been dreaming of for so long.

[Oleander Soleran]

Oleander

With day bell closer to the silhouette of mighty Stormhold Castle, Oleander grew a little more weary. It was the familiar shift in the landscape, the smell of Mithryn’s fields in the distance, the pebbles on the road that almost felt like the cobblestones he hated so much. He hated getting up in the morning, getting closer to where they had begun. Hortense looked equally weary in the morning, but for entirely different reasons.

She was tired of travelling inside Karyk’s wagon or on the overheated top of it, tired of Sharay braiding her hair and giggling, even if she giggled along and did not show it. Her brother also suspected that it was one of those times of the season, as she was unusually snappish.

Oleander would not have minded travelling twice as long if it meant staying clear of Syliras. Now that the city’s shape grew until it was their entire horizon, he could not remember why he had agreed to accompany her back in the first place. He needed to dig long and hard in is heart to find the binding that connected him stronger to his twin than his resent and her love for the city of confines could divide them. Both of them had one thing in common: They were in dire need of privacy.

A few days earlier, Tollivant had left the group to track towards Mithryn outpost before rejoining them at the gates of Syliras. Mithryn was the place where Oleander and Hortense had spent the bulk of their childhood, yet for once, they agreed that they did not want to return there. Multiple reasons mixed to form this unified decision: The homesickness they had secretly been keeping at bay for so long, the tears they were bound to shed if they saw the ruins of their home, or worse, a new cottage where theirs had been. The rage Oleander would feel if his garden had been turned into a patio. The resent Hortense held for simplicity, her excitement for the messages she hoped to receive in Syliras. She was not ready to waste a single day before she got there. Both of them did not want to see the spark of recognition in a villager’s eye, or the gleam of pity that followed, the questions asked about their father. The dangers of parting from the group were also considerable, and Hortense and Oleander knew better than assuming that travelling with Tollivant would be any safer than travelling alone. Neither of the three was any good at combat, should it come to that.

It was as if Eloise smelled the promise of rest and carrots, for she suddenly walked as fast as the other mounts. From time to time, Oleander even had to quell her enthusiasm so he would not find himself among the forward scouts. The caravan was brimming with excitement and cheers when Karyk announced their arrival. Oleander knitted his brows. He was the only one foolish enough to return to a place he disliked. He tugged slightly at the reigns to align Eloise with the carriage, and for once, the mule complied, too tired herself to defy orders out of spite. Maybe she was getting used to him, too.

“I forgot how huge it was,” he said to Hortense, who was sprawled across the coach’s ceiling, hair flowing in the breeze.

“I didn’t”, she countered and reached over to touch his arm before falling into a whisper: “You’ll be fine.”

Oleander simply sighed before pulling away from her grasp, leaving it to Eloise to choose her own place among the caravan. He was here now, and there was little he could do about it. Perhaps there would be news. At least he was among friends.

[Prophet]

At the gate, several patrols of knights stood in rank and file helping to inspect wagons, carts and bodies. A large commotion was made inside the gatehouse as shouts could be heard but words were lost in muddled echoes and the overall noise of the bustling city’s main entrance. It was long told that Syliras was the city of peace, a place of refuge for those with nowhere else to go. The recent seasons of unbearable weather, bad crops and misfortune had driven the population up with huge spikes and it seemed the onset of summer would be no different.

More noise from up above draw the attention of the soldiers and travelers below. Whatever was taking place was not about to resolve itself any time soon and so a ranking knight, pompous cape billowing in the hot wind, dispatched a squire to investigate the cause of such ruckus. In the meantime, more and more people seemed to be collapsing upon the road. The huge walls and wide path suddenly began to feel small as the process for entry was not complicated but tedious. A second squire was sent to obtain more knights so that the mess could be controlled and straightened out in an orderly fashion.

Chimes later, the slow-moving line had inched forward at a snail’s pace but reinforcements had arrived. An entire squadron marched onward from within the cobbled streets with the clomp of mailed boots and the clank of armor. The bright rays reflected from the platemail and created a haze of sorts around the group. People in line for entry sighed thinking that their troubles would soon be over. In fact, many of the men and women serving at the gate felt relief as well.

Until the order came out…

“Close the gate.”

Shock hit everyone all at once and the day’s loud proceedings came to an instant and silent halt; even children drew still as nervous eyes gazed up to their statuesque parents. The caped knight strode over to the commander of the squadron and saluted before speaking. His voice was low but it didn’t matter for a cold stare behind his superior’s helm silenced him, too.

“The High Council has deemed our fair city closed until we can access our storerooms and hold a census. Recent events have put a strain on all of us. The knights will offer protection to those in the fields around the great wall but admittance into Syliras is not allowed at this time.” His voice had been cold and flat up until this point but a sigh passed through the small slit in his visor. “I am sorry. My heart wants to help you but we simply cannot offer aid until we have a better understanding of our resources. May Sylir watch over your steps.” The man took a step back and his company filed across the street forcing everyone back while funneling in the knights who were at the gate on duty. Once the divide was created, a calculated retreat took place until the armored men and women were all inside the portcullis. A hand sign was given and the giant iron contraption was dropped to the earth. Syliras had closed.

The crowd was shocked. Some cried, some argued with great shouts and some simply stood dumbfounded by the events. Many dispersed and began to make camped within site of the massive gate figuring this was just some kind of formality. A man dressed in tattered but finely man black robes moved about giving food to those who looked the most desperate. He seemed strong and had a large pack of which he freely gave. As he made his rounds, words could be made out of a city not far to the east called Ravok. He spoke of its bounty and clean streets. He said there were no poor souls and no hungry bellies in a great city which sat up a lake. When he came up to a group that was very eclectic and strangely well-prepared, he smiled and bowed his head as he made his way to a woman with two kids and no possessions other than a dingy blanket and some thin roots in a burlap bag. He gave them meat, cheese and a small bottle of wine then came back to the larger group with many children, several bearded men and a tall woman with wild eyes.

“Strangers, you seem able. Perhaps you should venture east to the lake town of Ravok. She floats on a sunset with a fat store of fish and a warm embrace for all those who wish to follow her rules. Be mindful, though.” He held a finger up to the lumberjack-looking fellow’s face as old folks tend to do. “The road is not always safe but once you arrive upon Ravok’s shores, her strong arm will protect you.” The man pointed to a small hunting trail to the east and then moved on to help more people.

[Karyk]

It was finally Karyk's turn after having waited in line for what felt like ages, but really was only chimes. He approached the Knight, a man about his age, and was about to give his greeting, to begin the process of telling their story. To explain where they'd come from and why they left Zeltiva, and why they were coming to Syliras. But the shipwright never got the chance. The instant he heard those three little words, his blood ran cold. The entire area turned silent, in shock of the unimaginable. Close the gate? Syliras never closed her gates. Karyk was close enough to hear bits and pieces of the commander's words. High Council. Strain. Resources. And finally, 'May Sylir watch over..' Karyk was in a stunned silence, watching as the Knights retreated into the safety of the city, and the portcullis dropped. As soon as it struck down, the Zeltivan man lost it. He threw himself at the gate, "Who da 'ell do yall think ya are?! There's women an' children 'ere! We ain't rats to be turned away!" He hammered his fisted hands against the heavy metal, barely even making sound from the strikes, "Ya can't jus' turn us away ya cowards!" A knight stationed just inside the portcullis, a woman with kind eyes and a frown of remorse looked at him, "Ser, please stop attacking the gate. Other knights might find it a threat. Please." Karyk stopped his feeble attacks, looking at the woman as a man lost. What were they to do now? "Please... we 'ave children. We came so far. We're good workers, we'll stay outta the way, do whatever you need done. Please...I beg ya." The woman looked at him, a single tear rolling down her cheek, "It's not up to me Ser. And this has never happened before, it could take a long while. You might be best... looking elsewhere." Karyk just couldn't believe what was happening, what had happened. Syliras was the capital city. She took in everyone. If she were closed, what chance did they have anywhere else? Karyk felt the burning in his eyes as the tears welled up. It was all for naught. They had enough supplies to get this far, but going anywhere else would put severe strain on everyone. And they'd lost so many already, how many would they lose going to a different city? Karyk pointed at the woman angrily as the tears streaked down his face, "Ya tell Sylir tha' 'e's a fool. Ya tell him 'e's a petchin' coward, like the rest of ya hidden behin' your walls and shields. Nothin' but cowards." He turned to storm off, before looking back, shouting much louder this time, "If any of ya Sylirans ain't cowards, come find us. We leave at dawn." He didn't care if no one came. He just wanted to spite them. For them to know that there was more to this world than them. Pushing past the throng of people, he returned to his carriage, where Salara and Sharay sat. He'd let them down. He'd let them all down. Now standing before them, his sister, the Soleran twins, Tollivant and others, the tears finally stopping as he looked at them, a failed leader. "We ain't gettin' in. We can stay the night in their protection, but its gonna be a while before anyone gets in again. I'm... " He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell them how sorry he was for dragging them on this reckless journey. But he knew they all made their own decisions. And apologies did nothing for them. "I'm gonna talk to the scouts an' merchants, we're gonna figure out where to go next. And we leave in the mornin'. There's nothin' for us 'ere." Some members of the group dispersed and Karyk knew the day would be nothing but discussion within the caravan, between all people. He saw a man in dark robes give food to a woman he didn't recognize, maybe a refugee from elsewhere. He'd walked up to them and offered them an option. A town by the name of Ravok. Karyk had heard it in passing, but knew nothing of it. But it sounded good. Welcoming, with food to spare. And it sounded close enough to be a viable destination. Karyk looked to the hunting trail the man pointed as he moved on, and swallowed deeply. More travel, the last thing anyone wanted. But they had no choice. The only choice now was where to go. And Ravok already sounded like a decent option.

[Balian Martell]

What the petch? Balian thought, as frozen in place in shock.

The court yard stood still as the portcullis slammed shut. The thunderous crash it produced served only to emphasize the moment as all eyes were directed at the gate. The order to close the gate had come with the appearance of an entire squadron knights, which was already odd in of itself. Balian had assumed, as most others likely had as well that these knights had arrived to help process the arriving caravan. He never expected to hear the order that was given.

The squire looked around nervously. He still had another bell or so left at his post, yet given weight of the situation, his curiosity urged him to investigate further. Never had the Gates of Syliras been closed to those in need. Hell, it was one of the claims of honor that the Knights of the Order of Sylir held so highly! To have it come now, in such a public and visible manner was….unsettling. He was not the only one confused by this turn of events. All around the courtyard knights, shop keeps, laborers and even the stable workers had turned their attention towards the gates, their gazes betraying their thoughts. As still as the courtyard was, the travelers arriving where mad with activity.

Already the angry cries of men and women could be heard over the walls. Those lucky enough to have managed to enter the city before the order was given were quick to hurry away, as if fearing that they would be thrown out. Unfortunately it would seem that they were only a few. Already, Balian could see man beating against the portcullis. He couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but the man’s expression was telling enough; anger and confusion, like so many others, at having been denied entrance. Balian could not blame him for his rage.

Balian couldn’t help but to turn to a passing knight, one that had come with the squadron that gave the order. Perhaps he could explain the situation “Ser, excuse me,” Balian began, taking a step. The knight for his part turned to find the source of the question, and upon laying eyes on Balian was quick to asses him. Before Balian could continue the knight spoke. “Squire then is it?” he asked referring to the pin Balian wore indicating his status, “Confused about the gate?” Balian nodded, confirming both questions. The Knights posture relaxed a bit, and his tone when he continued was a tad softer, if still authoritative. “Orders were to close the gates, council’s concerned over resources.” Balian blinked in confusion. The city was experiencing some difficult times, sure, but they have never refused to entrance to those in need. “But Ser, what of those people? we have never denied entrance to the city. Surely we can’t leave them out there?” Balian asked in earnest. After all was this not the order that he had grown up to serve? The older man sighed, his expression betraying that he at least was sympathetic. “Orders are orders, Squire….?” he left the question hanging, asking Balian for his name. “Martell, Ser, Balian Martell.” The knight’s eyes flashed with recognition. The Martells were an old family of Syliras. While they lacked the influence or wealth of some of the other Knight Families, there had always been a Martell serving the order. “….Squire Martell. Your father should have taught you that. You’d do well to remember.” The knight hesitated for moment as he finished, as if there was something else that he wanted to add. In the end it would seem he decided against it. “As you where, Squire Martell”, the knight gave a curt salute, which Balian returned, before continuing on his patrol. He had been right, and Balian knew. Orders are given, and those orders are followed. Such was the way of the knights. Still, Balian could not help but feel uneasy about the whole thing.