A Show In Reimald Square
the moonlight, Orin was forced to concede that Grell made several valid points. Grell insisted, because of Orin’s injuries, he would not only need aid in defending himself on the long journey back to Whitestone, but also he would need continued care. For this purpose, Ellaria would accompany Orin and Merrick as well.
“A party of three is stronger than a pair,” Grell had rationalized. “Ye will all be able to take care of each other. And Merrick’s bird will be able to provide ye all with food on the road. Or maybe ye forgot the road to Whitestone is longer when ye can’t fly through the air.”
“Your family has done so much for me already,” Orin argued. “I couldn’t impose further by taking away a daughter and a son.”
“Ha! Ye’d be doing me a favor!” Grell joked. “But really, where do ye think Ella learned her healing? Marie is quite skilled herself. And I have buckets o’ other sons who will help with the hunting and field work. They go with ye. That’s how ye can repay me.”
With that definitive statement, Orin could hardly argue. However, he realized Merrick had been completely silent during the debate and hadn’t even moved in reaction to anything that was said. He’d sat, listening intently, stroking Rora’s feathered head, and treating her with scraps of some sort from a pouch on his belt. The spotted falcon gobbled up the treats without complaint, well trained and loyal to Merrick. Orin looked over at him, not sure what thoughts might be running through his head. “So, I suppose you’ll be joining me on my journey home, then?”
“Aye, that I will,” Merrick responded, not taking his eyes off the vastness of the stars.
Orin turned back to Grell, who extended a hand with a great grin. Orin returned the gesture and embraced the large man’s arm in agreement.
“I will tell Marie, and she will prepare for yer departure. Tomorrow eve, we shall discuss plans for the journey, and ye all can begin the trek the following morn.”
“Now that I am up and about again, I’d be glad to help with preparations,” Orin replied.
“No. Yer day tomorrow is already planned. Ye’ll be going to Reimald Square at the keep. The King has requested an audience with ye before ye leave.”
At the puzzled look on Orin’s face, Grell continued. “It’s not every day we have a knight of the Griffin Guard in Tamaria. I’m sure the good King Hugen wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to make himself look good.”
Orin did not miss the large man’s dripping sarcasm.
Merrick released an unintentional laugh. Rora’s feathers ruffled at the sudden start. Merrick stood, turned to the other two men, and said, “Good evening,” laughing to himself as he left them. The other two followed suit and made their way inside to rest for the next day’s events.
The following morning, the birds sang their pleasure with the day’s beauty from every precipice in the city. The myriad towers no longer looked like giant torches but rather returned to the daytime intrigue of their distinct craftsmanship, standing stark against the early morning orange in the sky. The stir of the Karos market square was audible once more as people bartered and traded goods and services. After a quick breakfast, Orin, Ellaria, and Merrick left the house of Grell for the Reimald Square. The square, located outside the keep in the center of Tamaria, was the largest in the city and was used for market like all the other squares. It was also used for special events of the king’s choosing. The companions strolled through the city, and Orin tried to take in all the sights. The buildings and towers seemed to get bigger the closer they got to the city center.
At one point, they passed a particularly busy market square adjacent to the Palori River, the main river that ran through the city. Merrick took his leave of them. He told Orin and Ellaria to go ahead, that he needed to stop in that particular market for something. Before either could reply, he had vanished into the crowd. As the pair continued, Ellaria noticed the concerned look on Orin’s face. She took a deep breath and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Merrick blames himself.”
“What?” Orin asked, surprised out of his thoughts.
“He blames himself for what happened to Greggo,” she specified.
“Oh. I see ...”
“He has wondered, ever since that day, what he could have done different. I told him that he saved me, but the loss of Greggo was especially hard on him. He and Greggo had been hunting together long before I was old enough to go with them. His hunts are longer now. Sometimes he’s gone for two weeks at a time.” She paused. “He always makes sure there’s enough food at home for his extended hunts, but I think he is out there looking for that bear. He goes out alone, now. He won’t take me anymore. I’m just thankful for that falcon of his. Rora has given him a small sense of companionship on his hunts, and since having her, he’s laughed again. I pray that bird lives forever ... or at least until he finds himself a good wife,” Ellaria teased with a wink.
Orin dipped his chin with a half-smile. “And what about you? How are you?”
“It’s been two years. I’ve come to believe all of life is precious. I don’t want to live it in sorrow. That’s why I love to heal. It gives someone the chance to overcome adversity and live again.”
“And what an adept healer you are!” Orin proclaimed. “I know one man who is very grateful.”
They continued winding their way through the city for some time before the noise of Reimald Square was too loud to ignore. As they passed between two buildings, they came upon the enormous square. Orin’s mouth gaped at the immense keep at the other end. Innumerable flags waved in the wind from the tops of the buildings on all sides of the square. The keep itself was covered in them, and many of them were attached at odd angles as more flags were added with no discernible organization.
Reimald Square, made with an abundance of ancient stone, buzzed with activity. Though it was the first square built in Tamaria, its engineers had designed it with grand intentions. Merchants, artisans, and craftsmen were buying, selling, and trading wildly. Armored guards equipped with spears engaged in purchasing, eating, and idle conversations. Children ran around the square playing games.
The scene thrummed with life and diversity and mirrored the myriad of colors Orin had already seen in the Karos section of the massive city. Elvish merchants were scattered throughout the square, selling various wares. Several dwarven craftsmen negotiated with sellers looking for finely crafted tools, weapons, and the like. In front of a tavern at one of the corners of the square, a halfling jovially encouraged guests to come in and enjoy a pint at his fine establishment. The exterior of the place was littered with flags, showing only the wooden sign that said The Flagkeep Tavern and the door below. The smell of roasted meat hit Orin’s nose, and he couldn’t tell if it was coming from the tavern. If it was, the smell alone convinced him to stop in the next time he found himself in Tamaria.
A small sack of beans hit Orin’s leg, and he reached down to pick it up. An elvish boy looked at him and motioned for Orin to toss it back. The boy caught the sack with his knee, made a quick twist, and flipped the bag to one of his friends to begin their game anew.
Orin and Ellaria waded through the crowds to the bottom of the keep’s steps. The keep loomed even larger up close, and the plethora of flags gave it a sort of organic illusion, waving like colorful, scraggly hair. As they were about to continue up the steps, a loud call of trumpets sounded, resonating throughout the square. The initially startled crowds fell silent and gathered near the steps. Orin turned to Ellaria with questions on his face, but she returned his questions with the same puzzled look and shrugged her shoulders.
The large entryway to the keep was already open, but a troop of guards came out, marching to the trumpets’ rhythm. Some carried spears; others carried more flags. The troop split and formed two lines, one on either side of the entryway. They turned toward the center and raised their spears and flags high. Out of the entryway came a large elf in rather splendid armor. He made his way to the front of the stairs, stepped to one side, and turned. The trumpets stopped, and all was quiet. Some of the children could be heard murmuring in the back. A woman scolded them, and the murmuring was replaced by muffled chuckling that rolled through the rest of the crowd. The elf knight at the top of the stairs rolled his eyes in obvious displeasure. The crowd settled down again and stared at the top of the stairs, waiting. The quiet ended as abruptly as it had begun.
“Tamaria! Your Highness, the King! The comforter of the weak. Your champion for freedom. Your pursuer of justice ...”
The elf knight mustered as much enthusiasm as he could, but the compliments and titles droned on far too long before, finally, “The keeper of wisdoms. King Hugen!”
At that, the trumpets sounded again, and cheers and applause erupted from the crowds. Orin laughed at the spectacle but joined in the clapping to not make a scene.
King Hugen was an enormously fat man. He waddled out, waving to all his loyal subjects. The fat on his face was pushed oddly by his wide grin, and his eyes were almost invisible as the skin folds wrinkled around them. His robes were of the finest materials, but the extreme colors were so overwhelming that Orin thought he looked like a shorter, stouter version of the flag-adorned keep. His crown was made with the finest gold, but every inch was covered with different colored gems. When King Hugen finally reached the front of the steps, Orin made out a thin mustache that accompanied the king’s beady eyes on his engorged face.
Regardless of who the king really was, it was easy to tell, he enjoyed being the king.
The gathering was released to continue business as King Hugen waddled through the square, interacting with his people. Deep belly laughs rolled often from the rotund king. He stopped here and there at different stands while the elf knight stayed close behind.
Orin and Ellaria wandered nearby, waiting for the right moment to engage the king.
The king stopped at a cluster of merchant stands where some elves were selling pastries and treats. The sweet aroma was enticing, to say the least. Ellaria thought King Hugen might be a while, so she signaled for Orin to wait and went to speak to the elf knight. Orin couldn’t hear what the two were saying, but as she spoke with him, the elf knight looked over at him in recognition. Orin continued to take it all in: the colors, the smells, the noises. It was overwhelming. So much so, he started feeling cramped. He stepped to the side, trying to focus on anything in order to ground himself.
His eyes fell upon a man, his clothing browned with dirt, his hair matted. The man’s eyes, the only part of him that wasn’t brown, were piercingly blue. Streaks in the dirt on his face betrayed his tears as he walked, his blue eyes determined. Orin felt the man’s sorrow, even from where he stood. Something didn’t feel right. The whole world slowed down.
Orin’s experience in battles had taught him to follow his instincts. They often meant the difference between life and death. The man’s face was grim with death. As Orin watched, the man pulled a jagged dagger from underneath his cloak, his hands shaking with uncontrollable rage. The tears on his face streaked the dirt even more. Orin followed the man’s gaze. He was going for the king!
No longer thinking, but letting his muscle memory take over, Orin bolted from his position near a stand, startling the surrounding crowd. Seeing Orin out of the corner of his eye, the man charged forward, hoping to reach the king before he was intercepted. Orin had read his motives quickly and cut him off.
The man lunged at Orin, knifepoint first, swinging wildly at anything he might hit. Orin dodged the blade as each swipe came. He twisted around the assailant, grabbed his arm, and hit the man’s elbow until the dagger clanged to the ground. With one swift move, Orin wrapped around the man’s back, throwing him into a choke hold. The man savagely fought to get free, to no avail, as the elf knight came to assist Orin. The elf knight slammed the man to the ground and pinned him for apprehension.
“Why did you have to find yourself a dagger? Did you mean to stick the king?” the elf knight asked, sounding disappointed by the whole thing, as he held the man down.
The farmer spit and screamed. All the people around the king watched in horror.
“Ye fat, ugly king! Ye done nothin’ fer us! Nothin’!” His rage burst out with all sincerity. He coughed under the weight of the elf knight. “We been tellin’ ye that thar’s somethin’ goin’ on out thar. And ye did nothin’!”
The farmer sobbed violent, heaving tears. The crowd was stunned by the spectacle. Orin stood, unable to move, wondering what the farmer meant. King Hugen looked around at the appalled witnesses, not knowing whether they were disgusted with him or the wretched farmer. He took a step forward to address the farmer.
“I hav—”
“Raghh!” the farmer wailed wildly, interrupting the king. “Ye what? Ye what? Ye dinnit lissen! Ye dinnit!” He tried to compose himself, but the despair had boiled over and would not be contained easily.
“And then ... I brunged me crop to market. And then ... I goed home. They killt her ... They killt her!” His sobs were low, deep, and fitful.
King Hugen looked around at his people, recognizing the pity they took on the farmer. For a moment, he was at a loss, until he looked at Orin, and a glint of recognition appeared on his face. He found his victory.
“My friend,” the king said, showing as much feigned compassion as he could muster. “I have done something. I heard your cry.” He stood taller, extended his arm fully toward Orin, and raised his voice for all to hear. “For here! Before us, in your very midst, one of the valiant Griffin Guard. A true Guardian of Whitestone!”
Excited whispers rippled through the crowd. The king, seeing his plan was working, continued, “Tamaria, your king loves you! It breaks my heart that any should feel unheard. Why, this very day, I had planned to meet with our young Guardian to discuss this very matter. Surely, we have heard the disconcerting rumblings of the peculiar strangeties in our northern farmlands.”
Ellaria rolled her eyes at the king’s wordplay, not deluded by his game.
Now, having the crowd’s complete attention, the king stepped over the head of the farmer, walked over to Orin, and draped an arm around his shoulder in a sideways hug, bringing him close before continuing.
“And look! Our Guardian’s first act in Tamaria is to save your beloved king! The heart of a true Guardian, this one! He will not let our northern farmlands be dismayed any longer! Surely, as he has shown us victory today, he will not let us down! Your king loves you! I commission this Guardian today, and all will be well!”
He grabbed Orin’s hand and heaved it high as the crowd erupted into applause. He waved with his other hand, the fat on his arm waggling.
He turned a beady eye to Orin and said out of the corner of his mouth, without losing his smile, “Wave to them, Guardian. They love you.”