MT Part 2 (VG)
Morgan's Tale (Part 2)
The buildings of Tursh soon faded from view in the darkening sky, as Morgan walked briskly out the east end of the small village until soon its flickering torches were barely distinguishable from the twinkling stars above. For a ways, he followed the oft traveled winding road, listening to his heavy boots thumping on the earth beneath him. The steady cadence calmed him, on this clear, cold night.
As he trudged through the darkness he wondered what the real reason behind his summons was. Minister Adlus's notes were always so brief and cryptic. Morgan understood the necessity of keeping some things quiet, but he half thought Adlus did it on purpose - just to keep him unsettled. Truth be known, he was not overly fond of the Minister. He seemed more concerned with writing reports and filing papers than actually solving problems. That is unless Morgan had taken leave, in which case there were always an abundance of problems to be solved - and nobody else to do it.
Morgan wondered if Adlus knew of his resentment, but doubted it. They rarely spoke and when they did it was often too cluttered with formality to have any real meaning. Such is the way of cities, Morgan thought.
The path suddenly veered to the right, Morgan stopped. He'd gone as far as the road would take him. Having traveled between the village and New Targonor many times he had learned early that he could save many hours by crossing the Weatherfall River himself, rather than following the road south until he reached the trade bridge.
Stepping off the path into the tall grass of the plains, he drew a short sword from his side and waded into the knee-high brush -- poking here and there to avoid any hidden burrows or gnarled stumps that could play a potential hazard to him. There was a time when small farms occupied much of these lands, but now none remained. They had all been razed or abandoned during the centuries before and for a good many reasons, had never been fully rebuilt. As a result, the region had largely been left to its own, and after many years of relative peace was entirely grown over.
Morgan liked it though, much better than any city in fact. In his far removed, solitary outpost he had learned the value of silence. Travelers were infrequent and days would go by where he spoke not a word - and spoke it only to himself when he finally did. There was a peacefulness to it, and while it was at times a lonely one, it comforted him a great deal.
This was a comfort no city could provide, least of all the teeming New Targonor. Never was there a time when someone was not out roaming the streets. There was always someone, something moving and that far off voice echoing through the alleys. It could never attain that perfect stillness only the plains seemed capable of. Still, the city did have a unique charm of its own. In these dangerous times there were very few places Morgan felt completely safe - secure from any outside aggression. New Targonor's walls seemed to block out everything beyond the gates. While inside of the city, the rest of the world ceased to exist. It was a place where all civilized citizens of Thestra are free to come in search of protection and so long as they abide by the laws of the great settlement, protection was granted.
For several hours, Morgan walked in quiet contemplation - occasionally rustling up a small group of rabbits or a skulking musk hog with the tip of his sword. The tall sweeping grass gradually thinned and was replaced by shorter, bristly underbrush as he drew nearer to the river.
Morgan could hear the gentle streaming of the water before he was close enough to see the river in the moon's pale glow. Merely a faint shadow at first, but as he approached the source it began to slowly materialize in front of him. The Weatherfall River wistfully wandered through the plains, peacefully twisting about as it split the landscape. The night darkened the shallow water, giving the illusion of depth. Morgan knew better though -- the water was shallow, and quite safe. He'd crossed here many times before.
He waited a moment as his eyes adjusted to the reflecting moonlight. Morgan began to scan the bank, searching for something until he had found the familiar sight he was looking for; a fallen tree lay partially submerged in the river. Its branches had long since been ripped from the trunk but its roots still clung tightly to the shore, creating a natural bridge that led slightly past half the width of the water.
Morgan sheathed his sword, removed his boots and hiked up the legs of his pants. He then carefully crept onto the tree. Once he had gained his balance Morgan began to slowly make his way across. He stopped just before the trunk dipped into the water and peered across the river -- he could just make out the silhouette of the opposing shore. He set himself, took a quick step back then threw his boots the rest of the way across. Morgan heard two dull thuds as they landed in the grass on the opposite bank. Next, Morgan removed his traveling pack and holding it high above his head he began to wade into the river.
The wet cold engulfing his foot sent a chill running up through Morgan's body as he took his first step. He took a second step and carefully set his foot down as to avoid any sharp rocks hidden beneath the surface. The water came up to just above the young ranger's knees, though the summer rains would soon change that. Morgan quickly waded across the rest of the river and climbed up onto the embankment. He rolled his pant legs down, located his boots and sat in the grass to put them back on.
He looked up at the sky - sunrise was still a few hours away, he was making good time though and would be at the city gates shortly. He finished strapping on his boots and stood up. Morgan swatted at a small insect buzzing around his head and began to walk again.
He continued to plow through the night for a time, quietly humming to himself as he went along. Soon, thin streaks of light began to sneak over the horizon, streaming from the dull orange glow which lingered just out of sight. Morgan squinted; he could just barely see the shadow of New Targonor's great walls. He picked up his pace, anxious to reach the gates and hurried towards the city.
As the sun began to rise over the far horizon, filling the landscape with a dim morning light the massive walls of the city became clearly visible. Inside of them, mountainous towers leapt into the air spiraling upwards towards the sky. Morgan paused a moment to take in the sight before him. Regardless of how many times he came to New Targonor or how much he preferred the open wilderness the sight of the colossal fortress city never ceased to astound him. New Targonor was set, like a mountain on the northernmost coast of Thestra. With its back to the sea, it was a pillar of strength and might to all of those whom inhabited it and was the backbone of the human kingdom. No force had ever breached the strong stone walls.
The closer Morgan got to the city the more immense it became, what started as a shadowy block in the distance now dominated the landscape. The cool ocean air blew pleasantly around the walls, rustling the thick grass with each pass. Morgan could begin to hear the sounds from inside the high stone walls as New Targonor awoke for the day. He made his way to the east gates, where a steady stream of workers and their carts were already coming in and out of the city. Large billowing banners flew proudly in the wind above the entrance as dozens of armored guards patrolled the ground below.
Morgan passed through the crowd, stepping up to the gates.
"You there!" a chain mail clad guard barked to him, "What is your business here?"
Morgan smiled and flashed the guard the note he'd been sent, Adlus's seal plainly visible on the edge. "I was wondering much the same myself," he said. The guard nodded and waved him in.
He passed through the gate and into New Targonor's parade grounds. Large tents were erected on both sides of the busy street. They were filled with all manners of knights and tournament combatants, preparing themselves for the day. To Morgan's right two men rode horses through the jousting fields, practicing their timing. Several children lounged about in the wooden grandstands watching the two riders below. The stone cobbled street continued on to the left past the city's stables and down a slight hill until it reached another gate that guarded the entrance to the inner city. And looming over it all was the central keep, its numerous high towers keeping a watchful eye on all below. This was New Targonor, pride of the human kingdom.
Morgan followed the endless flow of people along the street as they streamed under the raised portcullis and into the heart of the city. As Morgan stepped through the gate the world around him changed once more. Large buildings were packed tightly together for as far as he could see. Busy streets, teaming with activity, ran through the center of them, darting this way and that. Vendors were already in their stalls, hawking their wares. Workmen hung from the sides of buildings endlessly pounded away from their scaffolds - forever expanding upon the already massive city.
Morgan exhaled and pressed into the crowd. The streets, even in this early hour, were already tightly packed with people eager to get a head start on the day. A loud metal clanking rang from a building to his side as a blacksmith began his day of work. He looked up at the keep towering over the rest of the city. Somewhere inside of it Adlus would be waiting in his office to see him. Morgan quickly weaved through the throng of people in the streets, dodging carts and the animals that pulled them.
It didn't take him long to reach the inner gate that led to the keep. It was nearly the same size as the outer gate and looked to be at least as thick. The crowds had thinned considerably in this part of the city but there were still a goodly amount of guards posted at the entrance to the courtyard. They stood in pairs, and talked idly with one another pausing only to wave the occasional government official along. Morgan showed the guards his letter and passed through the gate.
He walked briskly through the courtyard and up the ramp leading to the giant stone fortress; Morgan had been here before many times and knew where he was going. He passed another guard at the main door of the compound and once inside quickly made his way up a flight of stairs and down several corridors until he had reached the Ministers' district.
The hallway opened into a large room with numerous adjoining offices. A chandelier dangled from the ceiling, hovering several feet over the large rug covering the floor. Padded benches lined the walls and deep, cozy looking arm chairs sat sporadically around the room. At the far end of the chamber a clerk sat behind a desk busily shuffling a stack of papers. Upon hearing the ranger, she looked up; Morgan nodded in acknowledgement and walked across the room to Adlus's office.
As he raised his hand to knock on the wooden door the clerk spoke up, "The Minister has yet to arrive for the day," she said with a smile, "You may have a seat and wait for him if you'd like."
"Thanks," he replied, "Do you happen to know when he'll be in?"
She wrinkled her brow and shrugged, "Hard to say, within a few hours I would imagine. Sometimes the Minister is later though."
Morgan grumbled quietly to himself, so much for that pressing emergency. He thanked the clerk and walked back to the center of the room. He removed his pack and set it on the floor next to him. Letting out an exhaustive sigh, he sank into one of the large armchairs. The muscles in his leg ached from a night of walking and no sleep, and the weight of the pack had stiffened his back. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the cushioned headrest; it felt wonderful to sit down. There were certainly no chairs like this back at his outpost, or in Tursh for that matter.
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