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Just another day, patrolling up and down the marble street. It's boring and eventless but it
pays. Pays enough at least to feed the wife and kid at home. Victor is very content with living
this life. Two days walking north, one day staying in the Lacia barracks, eating for free and
taking in the fresh sea-air and then walking back for two days to stay at home for the
weekend.
It is a relaxed life, the good life one might think. You can almost forget the dangers lingering
outside the walls. If only those things would just shut up for once. You can get used to
sleeping on an unevenly paved stone road, but the growling and gurgling coming off of those
Soulless… that will send a shiver down anybody's spine.
The traders you meet help a little bit, keeping you company for a few moments as you walk
past them, helping you remind yourself what this is all for. But then again they, too, will die at
some point. Granted, that happens rarely within the walls, but it happens. And when it does
you sure hope to not be alone for once. Not only are they a pain to deal with in enclosed
spaces but when you have… let's just say bodies seem to become a lot heavier when limp.
Victor has done this for eight years now. He has seen many travelers on this road. Traders
making a fortune selling exotic goods down in Werton. Adventurers trying to make a name
for themselves or just to get out of city walls for a change. Even immigrants changing their
life forever. Some are regulars. He knows their names, their history, their family's history. On
the days off, he has had drinks with them. Shared experiences, drinks, laughter, tears. He
considers many of them his friends even though he only sees them every few days.
He enjoys the fresh air, the calm. Most days at least. Monotony can be broken up by picking
up the pace, trying to make this next trip a bit faster, or just traveling at a different time of
day. At night the road seems almost peaceful. He takes in the moonlight and the stars that
light up his path. Even rain can be relaxing, if you feel safe, as the drops make satisfying
clinks on his plated shoulders and helmet. Victor even learned to enjoy thunder. Some nights
he can sleep better when the deep rolling sound of it overshadows the noises from the
outside.
On these days it is a bit harder to eat since you can't light a fire as easily but his traveling
buddies always have something for him to chew on when they meet. Sweets, dried meats,
bread, even wine, thanking him for keeping the road safe for them. They know he and all the
other roaming guards are what keeps both towns going.
Both Werton and Lacia are highly mercantile towns. Lacia, being a coastal town, specializes
in importing exotic goods over the seas. Werton buys up those goods and then distributes
them across the continent.
Of course it hasn't always been this way. For most of history they have been at war.
Lacia wanted the fertile lands Werton is built upon while Werton wanted access to silk, steel,
gold and minerals. For this reason Victor was taught to hate Lacians and had to learn that
both peoples are not that different from one another.
But times have changed drastically. When the crisis started both towns realized that their
only hope of survival would be cooperation, sharing food, sharing profits. So they built the
marble road to provide safe travel for merchants.
His new line of work helped Victor overcome his prejudice. His favorite place in the world
now is the old tavern in the center of Lacia. It is called “The inn of the trampling boar” after
an incident decades ago where a boar hadn't actually been killed by the arrow that hit it, but
had actually just been in shock, coming back to its senses on the table of the butcher who
bought it. It took half the towns guards of Lacia to stop it from rampaging around the market.
At least that's what the merchants told him.
The beer there is the best Victor has ever drunk. And the food, by Khamrir, is the best food
he has ever had. They make fresh salmon and serve it with roasted potatoes. Victor would
love to take his wife there someday but the barmaid would pose a problem.
Of course Werton, his hometown, will always hold a place in his heart. He will never forget
growing up in this big, bustling town. He will always remember his parents.
He remembers “helping” his father making tools in his smithy. Only years later he realized
that he had just bended thin steel rods, claiming it was a hammer.
Never will he forget going out for a walk with his mother, picking berries for dinner and
flowers for decoration. His first kiss with a girl. Her auburn locks and emerald eyes.
Spending the night with her in the baker's attic.
She was so beautiful in her wedding dress. The picture of her smile as she was walking
down the aisle is burnt into his mind. The touch of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of
her cooking. No matter what happens on the road, she is always somewhere in his heart and
mind whispering to his soul to come back safely.
His daughter's laughter echoes in his mind. Watching her grow up has always been his
greatest wish. Witnessing her first steps made his heart skip a beat. Her first word was
“dada” even though she only saw him every few days, the work of her mother no doubt. Her
favorite food is beef stew, just like his.
She is so smart. With her young five years she has already learned how to knit. He always
carries his little luck charm with him. Taking it out every evening when waiting to fall asleep.
He is sure it is protecting him just has she said.
But all of this is about to end.
Victor stands, weapon drawn in front of a massive hole in the wall. He isn't the first one here,
but still stands alone. The only thing he can hope for is to fight of the masses long enough
for the next guardsman to take over and finally send the word out to one of the towns and for
them then to fix the hole as fast as possible.
At least he doesn't recognize any of the faces coming at him.
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