Wendy the wanderer6/15/2023 With a grimace he stood up, hoping for a better view from the front. Behind he could hear more horses and carts, although exactly how many he couldn’t tell. The cart had one small window at the front and one on the door at the rear, iron bars breaking up the view outwards. Two sullen looking men sat facing him from a bench opposite, a woman to his right lay motionless, feet pressed into his hip. His whole body felt sore and his stomach rolled as he forced himself to sit up and take in his new surroundings. The percussive ensemble of horse hooves and cart wheels filled The Wanderer’s ears as he slowly came to. He fell face first at their feet, and drifted out of consciousness… A fisted blow then struck across his face, and although he tried to stand and offer a defence, the endeavour was useless. The largest man faced him with sword in hand, but chose to kick swiftly to the stomach. Two men from each side took the opportunity to tear his backpack from his person, sending clothes, pans and the gathered mushrooms scattering. The Wanderer began to edge backwards when a large shield thrust into the back of his head, flinging him forwards to the ground. ![]() ![]() There was no talking his way out of this, the terse tone of the Essermen suggested they already had a preference for the violent option, and their hands on their weapons made it abundantly clear. Those found living here were to be taxed by the realm or face arrest for obstruction of the expansion of the Kingdom. This land was soon to be required for the Kingdom, for wood and stone, and all such resources that could be gathered. Although only their eyes were visible over their covered faces, the men showed no sign of emotion and responded in short shouted sentences. The Wanderer turned a full circle, calmly introducing himself and explaining his presence, trying to gauge which face was the one of authority and preferably of kindness. They dismounted simultaneously, the clanging of metal reverberating from all angles, a swirling wind accompanied them… Before he had a chance to consider the meaning of their presence, The Wanderer was surrounded by eight men, each well armoured in chain and helmets adorned with the red backed golden fist crest of the Kingdom. ![]() Sighting the lone figure on the hillside, the riders diverted towards him, horses trampling the long grass beneath them. He thought it odd to see Essermen banners in these hills, there were so few people settled here or working the limited areas of arable land. From there it was easy to see the smoke of the recently extinguished campfires snaking slowly to the sky. Jolted from his reverie he hurried back towards his dawn viewpoint, to find its source. The Wanderer’s thoughts were interrupted by this distant commotion. The Essermen, the King’s company of law enforcers, rode out. Helmets were equipped and horses mounted. The day had begun early for others on the peninsula too some miles away in a makeshift camp, horns sounded. A chorus of birds continued this salutation, as The Wanderer returned to his bedroll, packed his possessions and strolled deeper in to the woods… A grateful smile crossed his face as he muttered words to the morning, welcoming the sun whose light now touched his skin. ![]() A lone tree in the centre of his view eclipsed the brightest point on the horizon, as he waited patiently for the golden wheel to present itself and bring warmth to the chilled autumn air. West of the town of Dralden, and facing further west, The Wanderer sat at the edge of a forest clearing, the cloud-spattered sky slowly turning from nightly hues of dark blues to warmer gradients. Great roads carved their way into the countryside, veins of civilization pumping life to new extremities. Now, in times of peace and prosperity, towns rapidly sprung up wherever the settlers could reach. The denizens of the Kingdom of Esservald had spent many hard years recovering from the long war with the Southern Hordes and so had little means or reason to build on its cold northern coast. Wherever he found himself in the world, The Wanderer would always try to make time to witness the sun rise, more-so when travelling in new lands, and the wooded hills of West Norlend were most certainly new to him.Īlthough reasonably well mapped for two or three generations now, the peninsula was considered wild and untamed before ‘The Great Expansion’.
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