***
The wind howled and shrieked in the cold of the early morning. Gresvin stood on top of a small hill, looking into the distance. There, he saw a wondrous display. Gresvin had traveled the last two weeks without unnecessary rest, and finally, the city of Hammerfold was laid bare.
Towers of stone, spaced like watchful giants, pierced the sky, their merlons shaped like blunt war hammers. Their silhouette spread beautifully against the snow-covered peaks and dark mountains behind them.
The rising sun revealed itself between two peaks behind the city, cementing its beauty into one's memory.
Gresvin smiled when he saw the distant silhouette. 'Finally!' He had arrived at his next destination. Gresvin knew that he was only a few days away from arriving at his new 'home.'
As he stood on the hill, the sun's rays touched his face as they spread over the countryside; he could feel the warmth they brought with them. He closed his eyes to immerse himself in the warm sensation.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, 'Let's go!' He muttered as he resolved himself and spurred his horse forward.
His horse galloped at full speed towards the city. While the countryside scenery was beautiful, he could not take his eyes off the ever-increasing size of the settlement before him.
The city's colossal stone walls made it look like a formidable fortress. The front gate had two massive steel doors, and the outer layers were adorned with intricate patterns.
"Halt!" a sharp and loud voice echoed from atop the city walls. Gresvin quickly came to a stop, and he gazed towards the direction of the voice. There, a man dressed in steely grey armor stood. A helmet with Ostian blue plumes as accents covered his head. The man shouted loudly, "Who goes there?! Identify yourself and the reason for visitation!" the words were spoken coldly with a commanding tone.
Gresvin looked at the man and answered just as loudly, "I am a mere traveler intending to pass through the city. I seek passage into the lands of the Endless Plains."
The small group of guards on top of the walls gazed at one another. Gresvin's answer surprised them. Only a few dared to venture into the lands beyond the Howling Peaks, especially those of lesser skill. The men could not help but observe him more meticulously. Whispers started to travel between the men as they discussed the traveler.
The man who shouted motioned for another guard beside him and whispered quickly, "Go get the commander. He should be alerted."
The guard swiftly left the view of Gresvin and the other guards. 'There goes the messenger,' he sighed, knowing full well where the guard was headed.
Gresvin did not intend to reveal his true identity, as it was known throughout the kingdom. Although he was exiled, only due to the precious influence his uncle had asserted. Many would seek favor with the King and try to kill him. Gresvin did not want to take the chance of them knowing who he really was.
But it seemed that his hopes were destined not to be fulfilled.
Gresvin continued to wait beneath the walls. He just hoped that the Baron would not make his passage difficult. Once he entered the mountain pass, he did not have to fear the kingdom's forces any longer.
Gresvin smiled and waited. He made sure that his sword, which was placed on the side, was easy to reach if need be. His bow and arrows were also to the side when he needed them.
He may not have been an outstanding warrior in his family, but he was still trained. If he were ranked according to the kingdom's standard, he would be around rank 2 Archer. Basically, a rank 1 warrior could be considered fodder, seeing as they had just stepped into the path of being a warrior. Rank 2 warriors are warriors who have been trained to a certain degree.
Ranks 1 to 3 were mainly your basic warriors; they were the main force of the kingdom. Higher-ranked warriors are more likely to have been granted official titles or positions. Lord Alberich was one of the higher-ranked warriors; he was a rank 5 warrior.
Gresvin knew that Hammerfold belonged to a baron named Reinhardt Grimm. He was responsible for the border defense. Baron Reinhardt Grimm was an exceptional warrior, but his greed was insatiable. Thus, he was delegated to the border, where resources were scarce.
Gresvin waited patiently and recalled the information he had read about the city beforehand: " One Rank 4 warrior with five generals at rank 3. The Militia and scouts consists of mostly rank 1 and 2 warriors. Altogether, they are around 76 men in total… That's quite… low?" Gresvin thought it was strange; for a border defense city, the number of soldiers was pitifully low.
Gresvin did not have more time to ponder. The gates of the city slowly creaked open. One of the guards said to Gresvin, "You may enter!" He nodded, and slowly, he dismounted and led his horse into the city. Before he could pick a direction to walk to, the same guard called out, "The city lord wishes to speak with you."
Gresvin had no choice but to follow.
'City Lord? That must be the Baron, ' he concluded. He warily stared at the guard; he knew that speaking with the Baron could lead to trouble, but he alone could not defeat the guards.
The only way forward was for him to meet with the Baron. Gresvin calmed down after thinking about his current situation. Violence would only make it harder for him to leave the city.
"Follow me!" the guard called and walked down a big road. The cobblestone roads were well-kept, and everything seemed relatively tidy, but the atmosphere was dark and gloomy.
Gresvin felt uncomfortable with the gloominess and became alert. He observed each and every corner and dark place.
He realized that there was little to no activity in his surroundings. 'Maybe that's why they are so well kept,' he thought, seeing as there was no one to make it dirty.
Here and there, he could see the shadows of people disappearing around the corners and hiding, and that was it. No busy street or bustling marketplace, only a desolate area with nothing going on.
Gresvin had a bad feeling as he saw the surroundings. 'They are scared of the guards' as realization sank in. There was probably only one reason for their reactions—greed!
The greed of a tyrant!