RP Session 5: "Of Lions and Rabbits"

The City of Endier was a bustling metropolis, easily the equal in size of any of Anuire's great capitols save perhaps the mighty Imperial City itself. But unlike the other great cities, the Port of Endier was a warren of alleys, dead ends, hulking warehouses, sordid hidden districts where any vice or guile might be served. The physical walls were low, in ill repair, and unimpressive but the city beyond might as well be a labyrinth packed with the cries of hawkers, the shuffling of footpads, and the glitter of knives. And all of it backdropped by the incessant ringing of coin like a song from the heavens.

The night was alive in Endier - not in the way it was in Medoere, where honest folk went about their business in the moonlight - but alive with those whose business demanded the shadows. Hooded lanterns and hidden candles winked in and out of view all over the corpulent mass of architecture like incandescent ants.



Outside the city though the night was stiff with chill and anticipation. In the little encampment, tents laid out in carefully crafted nonchalance, a dozen hard-faced and broad shouldered men sat around their fire. Their eyes were fixed on the road to the south, their hands twitched and flexed within inches of hidden weapons. Their bulky cloaks and coats hid mail oiled to a mirror shine. These dozen men were living weapons, and they were primed to kill.

Sareth Vorn watched legionnaires - he didn't need to watch the road. They were better than watchdogs. He was still tense though. The message from Rory had come before sunset, and it had been worryingly brief. Someone was watching the tradehouse, the Roesonians were heading west, they might be pursued. Without knowing exactly where Rory would intercept them, all he could do was leave the city and wait on the highroad. Ready fort he worst.

First there'd been the mercenaries, then the suspicious timing of Diemed's aggressions, now interlopers who seemed to already know the intended site of their clandestine meeting. Something had gone very very wrong and what should have been a simple matter of bring what (Vorn assumed) must be some foreign informant overland so as not to invite scrutiny at the Imperial City had become nothing less than outmanoeuvring any army. They'd caused chaos where they could, but the Roesonians had gone to ground quickly and even when word had come from Roesone's spymaster of their plans it was difficult to trust.

And now the waiting. That was the worst part. The waiting was almost intolerable.

The legionnaire gave a sharp nod to Sareth. They'd spent the past week clad in the attire of merchant's guards, and any further mark of respect would be conspicuous. These warriors weren't exactly skilled in disguise, but it was a surprisingly simple thing to stand up to casual scrutiny. Of course this was Endier, so there was little doubt that some enterprising passer by had undoubtedly taken note of their stiff postures and concealed weapons and sold that knowledge somewhere.

It was the work of moments to have seven horses saddled, but the soldiers took their time with the rest. Dallying so that no inevitable onlooker would think their purpose too urgent.

As they were mounting up however Captain Talia who had been lingering at the edge of their firelight caught Vorn's eye and pointed down the road. Moving away from the glare of the fire too, it only took a moment for Sareth's eyes to adjust and he could make out the shapes of a half dozen riders moving with reckless speed through the night. Still too distant to see any detail, no one about their normal business would trust the benighted highroad enough for a full gallop without good reason.

It had taken a few minutes for the group to reassemble. The knight Lancaelad's enormous warhorse was struggling worse than the rest, its massive frame made for bursts of aggression rather than marathon sprints over uneven terrain. With an extra rider - Tovrunn was too spent to remount her own animal - they were making slow progress. Still, pursuit seemed to have peeled off for the time being and even slowing to a trot as the party reconciled no figures had emerged once more from the darkness.

Few folk, not matter how dogged, had the appetite for an unfair fight if they could avoid it.

The Roesonians had been riding for days, sleeping seldom and when they did doing so in hollows beneath trees or crammed into boathouses. Only Rhoderick had felt the touch of a mattress in the past three days, and even then it had been for precious few minutes. They'd pushed into the night and ridden long days near uninterrupted since the Bjordings' lodge. Only Corson, accustomed to far less comfortable living, seemed to be holding up entirely though even he had become unaccustomed to Anuire's cold and wet during his exile in arid Khinasi.

They were only now beginning to feel that pursuit might be at and end when not far ahead a party of riders broke away from a small camp just outside the city reaches of Endier and began to ride towards them, dividing with military order into a group of six and another of seven, with the smaller fanning out into the fields to the west.