Solo The Blood of Izurdin Cometh

[Gyndarios Quickhand]

Timestamp: 80th of Winter, 514 AV

The caravan lurched forward for what seemed like the first time in bells. The train of horses and wagons waited in a queue of other horses and wagons to enter the city. Passage had been flowing rather well until a bell ago when somebody was caught trying to smuggle diseased cattle into the city. Now every wagon was being given a thorough search just in case there were any co-conspirators of the original criminals.

Gyndarios arm felt like lead. He'd been carrying his mother's shield in it's buckler form all day. Isurian though it's craftsmanship was it was definitely made out of regular steel. He could feel every inch on his tired arm muscles. He probably could have put it down the moment they'd gotten within sight of the Citadel - after all bandits and wolves weren't likely to attack this close to the city – frankly the youth was just being stubborn. After it had first began to tire him up he had tried to shrug it off. He had the blood of Izurdin in his veins no matter how diluted. He wouldn't give in to his bodies demands. He was the master of this body. It would obey his command. This was discipline. His mother would be proud.

However Gyndarios was slowly starting to feel less pride in his 'discipline' and more general resentment toward the Knights for keeping their caravan waiting. Their caravan was second to be checked now but Gyndarios didn't know how much longer he could waste. He tried resting up against the wagon a little to sort of alleviate some of the stress on his arm. His eye was starting to twitch somewhat as he got more and more irritated by the waiting. He stole half glances at the other members of the caravan urging them to do something with his eyes.

“Oh, dron san hafltl!” He cursed loudly in Isurian and marched forward toward the biggest ad most important looking Knight.

At first the Knight didn't notice his approach but when he did he took a stepback and put out a hand. “Halt, citizen!” He said in a firm, commanding tone. There was another knight with him. He put his hand over his scabbard ready to draw his weapon if need be. “Do not approach.”

Gyndarios halted where he was with an irritated growl. Anger and impatience driving him now he threw his shield and backpack down on the ground and put his hands up. “Look, I don't have a wagon. I don't have a horse. I've been waiting with my caravan for ages. [b]Can I go?[b]” As he spoke he slowly turned revealing that the only weapon he had on him was his sheathed gladius. When he asked the last question he was facing them again and he glared openly at him.

The knight in charge put down his hand and chuckled deeply. “On you go.” He said stepping to the side with a shrug.

Gyndarios glared at him. The fact that it had been this easy the whole time infuriated him. He stooped down, slung his backpack over his back and grabbed his shield. “Uh, thanks.” He said and moved to walk past him. As he came in line with the Knight he felt a metal gauntlet lightly grip his shoulder. He turned his head.

“What's your name, traveller?” The mirth was gone from his voice. The Knight had deep, piercing blue eyes. He answered him quickly and simply. “Stay out of trouble, Gyndarios Quickhand, and keep that shield underarm or people will start to think you need to defend yourself from something.” The Knight's deep blue eyes seemed to gaze right into his soul. It unnerved him. He nodded simply and was released to go on his way into the Fortress of Peace. He tucked his shield under his arm. His other arm. His shield arm was killing him...

Taken from here. The following is the continuation of that day.

[Gyndarios Quickhand]

It was not until he was through the gates did Gyndarios realise that he probably should have asked for direction to the nearest accommodation. He certainly wasn't going back. That Knight had given him the creeps. Gyndarios noticed that there were a couple of woman about with small tables and rugs displaying goods. It seemed to be some sort impromptu market.

He approached heading for a little wooden sign marked “Maps of the Citadel”. An old woman sat before a rug in which scrolls had been lain some open to reveal their contents. Before Gyndarios could open his mouth to inquire the woman had slapped him with an enthusiastic greeting “Welcome to the Citadel, sonny. What do you think of it so far?”

Gyndarios took a cursory glance around himself as he considered her question. He briefly considered answering 'The Knights are oppressive and the people smell worse than my shyke' but this didn't seem like the right way to begin trade. “The fortifications seem adequate and the military competent. Who drew these maps?” Gyndarios' replied shortly.

The woman seemed a bit put off by his gruff attitude but she replied with pride “Meself!” She cried enthusiastically jabbing a thumb to her breast.

“And how long have you lived here?” Gyndarios shot back.

“Always!” She replied seemingly offended by the question.

“I see.” Replied Gyndarios doubtfully as an idea took root in his head.

“I have!”

“Prove it.” Gyndarios stated simply, accusingly.

“I will. Ask me anything!” She commanded him taking his bait like the fish on the hook.

“Where are the cheapest accommodations?” Gyndarios asked with a barely contained smirk. This was too easy.

“Just through over there.” She pointed animatedly. “The Traveller's Row; cheap cause the Knights pay something to it. Matilda Owens runs the place. Nice lady. See, I've lived here all my life sonny. Now are you gonna buy this map or what?”

“Nope.” Gyndarios replied turning away and setting off in the direction she had indicated. “Thanks for the directions though.” He called over his shoulder at the old wench. Gyndarios smirk doubled in size.

He found the office without incident. He wondered if he'd even needed the directions after all. He stepped into the office apartment and wasn't surprised to see a plain desk area. Plain seemed to be the theme of this city so far. The Matilda that the old woman at the gates had mentioned was nowhere to be seen. She had, however, left a small note. It stated that she would return shortly. Another sign also suggested Gyndarios help himself to the tea and cookies situated on the counter. He lay his shield down against the wall briefly considering getting some kind of strap for the thing so it could be carried over the shoulder or on his back. Then he took up one of the cookies and sniffed at it. It smelled good enough so it was soon stuffed into his mouth. He hadn't had anything since breakfast and that had been some hours ago. He put a finger on the side of the teapot and quickly withdrew it. Still hot. He poured it into a nearby tea cup and taking the cup in one hand and the plate of cookies in the other he took a seat.

Gyndarios never refused free food.

[Gyndarios Quickhand]

“Enjoying yourself?” A stern voice prompted Gyndarios out of his day dream. He almost dropped the recently emptied plate held in one hand. Gyndarios looked up quickly suddenly guilty about his recent greed. The blonde woman who had just entered did not seem angry despite her tone of voice. She smiled playfully as she leant on her cane gazing at him. “New around here?” She asked kindly, inquisitively.

She began to hobble over to the desk. She looked much too young to be hobbling like that. Gyndarios felt the sudden need to aid her. He rose quickly. “Uh, yeah, can I help-?” He started but she cut him off with a raised hand.

“I can do it, thank you.” She told him firmly yet without irritation. When she had finally hobbled around to the other side of desk she leant on it and smiled. “Welcome, I'm Matilda.”

Gyndarios quickly returned the plate and the cup. “I'm, uh, sorry about that. The name's Gyndarios Quickhand, nice to meet you.” Gyndarios smiled sincerely for perhaps the first time since he'd entered the city.

“It's no bother.“ She waved off his apology. “If they weren't meant to be eaten I wouldn't have put them out. Good to meet you also, Mister Quickhand. Are you looking to rent a room?”

“Yes. I don't know how long I'll be here for though.”

“That's fine. Payment's due the first of every week or sooner if you need to leave. Simple rooms are a silver miza a day and ten for more elaborate ones. Doubles are three simple and thirty double.”

Gyndarios was more or less instantly decided on a simple room. He hoped that he wouldn't be here for long. In any case the blood of Izurdin no matter how diluted could survive in any condition. A bed and a hearth was luxury. “I'll take the simple, single room. I don't need much.”

“Okay then.” She smiled and produced a roll of parchment and an ink and quill. She dipped the quill in the ink and began writing in long, deliberate strokes. “The name was Gyndarios Quickhand, yes?” She asked peering up at him with the parchment. Her eyes were suddenly sharp and watching.

“Indeed.” Gyndarios answered completely missing the change in tone. “G-Y-N-D-A-R-I-O-S Q-U-I-C-K-H-A-N-D.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She replied writing the name down on the parchment. After a moment or two more of writing she set the quill in the ink and put it to the side. She blew lightly on the parchment as she reached under the desk and withdrew a key. She looked up at him again and offered the key for him to take. “That's it. Enjoy your stay, remember to pay up and return the key when you leave.”