He stood at least a head taller than anyone present, had long fair hair, deep blue eyes, and a thick, well-kept beard that reached down to the medallion around his neck that told others of his station. His armor was plate metal, not leather like the Synners’ uniforms, since his was made for being able to withstand blows that could crush a man without it. It was polished bright, and his red cape split in two lengths just above knee height. His left pauldron had the Griffin of Coltend’s insignia.

That must mean he’s left-hand dominant. It’s difficult to fight against that, since their guards are all mirrored, I thought, noticing his greatsword hung from the right side of his hip.

The Master rode closer to him and looked him over, gauging his size. “Gods above,” the Master said. “It’s easy to forget how large members of your race are, though, in all my years, you’re the first I’ve met who is this tall,” he said astonishedly.

The man stood almost as tall as the Master on his horse and stared at him cheerfully, his flat face showing a significant smile. “What is your name, guardsman?” the Master asked. “Sir Magnar Thorsen, Master,” the giant replied, handing him an apple.

Thorsen? Sounds like someone descended from the gods themselves, I thought, noting the suitable name for someone his size.

“Well, Sir Thorsen, I thank you for the welcome, but must bid you farewell, grateful for the hospitality as I am,” the Master said respectfully, as he flipped the apple in the air. Thorsen gave a slight bow in response. “I take it you know your way to the palace, Master?” Thorsen sensed, his eyes darting across the Master’s features and confident posture. “I do, indeed. Thank you for your concern,” the Master replied.

As we moved through the massive gate, we passed by the giant, nearly a half-head taller than we were, even on horseback. He looked at us briefly, noting our equipment and any accolades we might have had, greeting us with a smile and a firm nod. We immediately felt we had no other option but to automatically respond by doing the same, though our smile was more nervous than anything else.

Bernar saw the exchange and chuckled. “Never seen such unruly boys put in their place so quickly by anyone other than the Master or Garett,” he chirped. I knew I needed to say something witty in retort, but failed to think of anything in the moment. As soon as the last few of our group went under the gate, the large gate came down and was quickly locked into place.

Batch, Irun, and I looked around at the nearby houses, where a few doorways allowed inquisitive eyes through the cracks.

Coltend Castle had a social system in which the common folk and the upper class were drastically separated. The common folk had to plough and till the land surrounding the castle to make ends meet, while the rich simply sat back and paid next to nothing for the commoners’ hard work.

The housing differential was so significant that the small wooden shacks or the poorly built brick and straw houses were but a stone's throw away from each other, which upset many of the rich. They would often complain about the filthiness of the poor, who could be seen throwing their buckets of piss and shit out of the window in the early mornings.

The younger children would attempt to see if they could hit a Big Belly, their term for a tax collector, with a clump of shit as they made their rounds.

According to what I’d heard, their aim was astonishingly good.

Along the main street, countless beggars leaned on the walls of the houses, begging for alms and donations to feed their empty bellies. Their cups and cracked wooden bowls were empty. “Even with all of the riches of Coltend, nothing means more to them than a person stooping down to place a single coin in their cups,” Bernar said, noting the look I wore.

I guess the sour look on my face gave away everything else I was thinking in that moment.

“Don’t think too hard about it. Feeling sorry for them won't do you much good in the long run,” he shook his head. “But I can't help it,” I retorted. “I feel as though one day I’ll be able to help them, and the fact that I can't do anything about it right now makes me angry,” I furrowed my brow.

“You’ve always had a good heart and attitude,” Bernard chuckled. “Hold on to it while you still can. Seeing enough of the world, how it truly is, might change you,” he began with a heavy sigh. “However, if you can hold on to that level of empathy, then you’ll be the strongest of us all,” he finished his sentence and smiled when he noticed I’d taken his words to heart.

“So, you're telling me you don’t care about other people. Is that it?” I asked after a brief pause. I still care about a few people. You and the Master are two I can name off the top of my head, at least,” he shrugged sarcastically. Ah, I see. It's a little cold-hearted, but I think I get it,” I nodded.

I began to look around and observe the filth and grime on their faces, days of accumulated dirt under their fingernails during their days plowing and tilling fields could be seen from a few meters away. Even though their whispers couldn't be heard through the cacophony of the street, I guessed that they were commenting on our armor and general appearance.

After all, it had been nearly fifty years since they last saw so many of us in one spot.

The sound of our hooves resonated down the small alleys that ran perpendicular to the main street, and small children ran to the roadside to see what all the commotion was about. Pointing and staring were among the most common actions, while whispers and giggles were a close second from some older girls. Irun and Batch noted a few who seemed to be their own age. “Don’t even think about it…” Garett said quietly toward the pair, destroying their hopes.

Bernar and I stifled a laugh when we saw their faces.

We continued down the street without speaking for the most part, but when we reached the general marketplace, it was teeming with busy shopkeepers, angry shoppers, and show animals being kept in place by their trainers. There was so much to look at that I finally decided to ride up to my brother’s side, knowing my idiot self would get sidetracked and, consequently, lost.

“Do you think we’ll be allowed to leave our quarters?” I asked, nudging Celer a little closer to speak quietly. “Not sure about you, but I’m definitely getting out of there,” Bernar replied with a shit-eating grin.

The moment the last word had left his mouth, I noticed a red-haired prostitute, wearing little more than a corset and stockings, standing on the balcony of a two-story house laced with red ribbons. “And that’s likely the place I’ll be all night,” he said, nodding in the building’s general direction.

“You’re sure you’ll have the coin for an all-night expedition with every woman in that… establishment?” I asked, knowing my brother’s nearly insatiable lust for women. “Believe me, little brother, as soon as I’m done with the first, the rest will give me a discount after they hear what I’ve done,” he said confidently.

I could have sworn I heard Isla groan in disgust as soon as she understood what he meant, but I could only give her a tight-lipped, apologetic smile.

“Are you sure about that?” Roburn chimed in from my right side. “I’ve heard stories about the ones here,” he said as if he had more knowledge than he cared to share. “I suppose you’d know all about them. You might even be the cause of a few,” Bernard said with a wry smile. Roburn chuckled and turned to me with a sly smile on his face.

“You know, I would take you along with me, so I could show you the ones to avoid. For educational purposes, of course,” he grinned. “Of course,” I nodded firmly. “They’ve been known not to be clear of the, uh, illnesses,” he said with a hush on the last word. My eyes opened widely with genuine concern.

“You mean they’ve got some kind of plague?” I asked hushedly. “More like a sort of rot, but sure, we’ll go with that,” my brother and Roburn simply laughed at some internal joke, refusing to elaborate any further.

We neared the main palace and were shocked at the sight of the gate. Two golden griffins facing each other loomed over the main entrance. Scarlet cloth hung from the top of the ivory-imbued gate, and intricate designs portraying the beasts crushing the moons on each door. The Master raised his hand, a signal to the gatekeeper, who looked out over the edge and called out to open the doorway.

Two guardsmen pulled on massive levers which, through ingenious mechanisms, made opening the gate easier than one would think. The giant doors swung open gracefully and without making much noise.

We were awestruck at the sight before us. Tall pine trees lined the sides of the road. Beneath the trees, a fence of interwoven roots had been formed, as though the trees themselves were connected. The street was made of smooth granite slabs, each carved and covered in resin to protect it from the elements. Seen from above, the pattern formed the Griffin of Coltend with its wings spread.

All of us, except for the Master, Garett, Roburn, and Bernar, of course, looked about in awe. Behind the fence, we saw fountains and a large open garden with fair maidens picking strawberries from the bushes. Their long, red dresses had their hems trimmed just enough not to drag along the floor.

Down the road a little way, the doors to the main palace could be seen, with a score of guardsmen on either side. Their gear looked a little less garnished than Thorsen’s had been, but they were all equally well-equipped. Each man stood on a single step of the stairway that led into the main Palace. I looked at Batch, who shot me a look as if to tell me he wanted their armor, too.

I wholeheartedly agreed with him.

“Do you know what those two large flags are, Thoma?” Roburn asked, but I shook my head. Even with the lessons I'd had growing up, there was limited information on such boring stuff like flags. “Those are the flags of the Church of Mideia, and the Warrior’s Guild,” he began, pointing to each one in order. “The Church is a nasty bunch to deal with, but the Guild, if I’m being honest, isn’t anywhere near as rough. They can at least hold a civil conversation without needing to spout some insults about us,” he continued, catching himself from spitting on the ground.

So they just hate us regardless of everything we do for them? That’s a bit unfair, I noted, already feeling a bitter taste in my mouth beginning to churn.

The stairway had a long carpet running down in a strip to the base, while the flags Roburn had mentioned earlier hung overhead. The Church showed its green colors and the image of a person reaching out for help to a serpent that hung between a sword and a staff in the shape of a cross. The Warrior’s Guild, also known as the Barracks,  hung their standard of an ox and a blade linked together by a chain on a blue background.

The remaining flags were those of the neighboring cities and villages that the castle would attend to, and each proudly showed their colors and markings. Some were somewhat obscure, others entirely offensive. Nevertheless, the castle had always wanted to prove that they were unified no matter what, so even the offensive flags were shown.

As we neared the main stairway, we finally got a closer look at the guards in their armor. “Magnificent work, isn’t it?” Bernar asked, looking back at the three of us who nodded vigorously. “It really is extraordinary,” I said, my eyes as wide as possible. “For them to be standing there like that for hours and hours on end in full gear is impressive. Either they’re extremely well disciplined, or their armor must be lighter than it looks,” I suggested.

“You have a point there, Thoma,” Garett began. “Their armor is forged under the supervision of a master smith, who just so happens to be an elf,” he said matter-of-factly. “An elf?” Batch asked, as though he hadn’t quite heard it correctly.