The Winds of Crowns and Wolves (5 page)

He had never been to the ocean, but he had
heard stories. This must have been a manifestation of those tales
he had heard when he was young. It was as if he had been here
hundreds of times already, by how vivid the visions were. He peered
around and took in the beauty of the shore, but was startled when
he looked down.

Beside him, lying in the sand, was the wolf
which he had seen the night earlier. Its glowing body was amplified
by the sunlight, which hit it with full force. It looked up at him
and licked its lips in a sort of serene relaxation.

Suddenly, he felt comfortable. A weight
seemed to have been removed from his shoulders, and he lay back
across the rock. The sun was beating with its maximum potential at
this point, and he wanted to soak in every single ray possible. He
closed his eyes again and sought to enjoy it. Even though it was a
dream, it was a dream which he hoped to see realized. Everything
about it seemed to make the situation he found himself in more
bearable.

It was like he found solace in the company
of this wolf, as the two sat on the shore. The wolf’s calm nature
provide a much needed contrast to Neach’s overworking brain, and
the two existed in a equalized harmony on that sand.

Beautiful would have been too minimal of a
term to describe the scene he was picturing. Nearly everything
about it was perfect. He felt at home.

That home feeling was abruptly ended, when
he awoke with a shiver in his bed. The fire must have been put out
ages ago, and Neach found himself asleep on top of the blankets,
which would have helped to keep in the majority of the heat. A long
distance away from where he wished to be, Neach’s teeth chattered
in the cold winter air that had now infiltrated his bedroom.

He sat up in his bed and looked out the hut
toward the rest of the village. He had slept through the rest of
the day and missed his family as well.

Asgall suggested that he leave Spleuchan
Sonse and head for Leirwold. Neach had never been there before, and
wondered what it was that the city could offer him.

He often mulled over things, but recently he
found himself doing it increasingly more. It seemed everything
required exponentially more mental energy than it required
physical.

After a few minutes, he came to a
realization. His father was right, he needed to go to the city.

Not only did he need to go to the city, he
needed to do it tonight. If he didn’t make the decision now he’d
never leave. And so, in the dead of the night, Neach began to pack
his belongings to bring with him on the trip. He figured he would
be gone for a few days at most; he was simply going to find out any
information he could about his parents, and the life which had
seemingly slipped through his fingers.

He couldn’t tell his mother where he was
going; not only was it difficult, he wasn’t sure that she deserved
any answers. And besides, his father knew where he was going, and
that was good enough.

This rationalization provided comfort for
Neach, as he gathered his things.

Nothing of note was placed into the bag
except for the piece of the tree, which he had cut down himself
only a few days earlier. This branch would serve as a reminder, he
thought, of where he came from, and what it is that he was leaving
behind for the time being. He knew it would take a day to reach the
city and a day to come back, so he assumed that five days would be
enough time to discover anything worth knowing.

He left his room and headed for the
door.

Outside the door, the world awaited. There
were things which he was unaware of, a journey which had neither a
concrete destination nor goal. The only thing that was present and
evident was an arbitrary desire of his. He hoped to learn the
truth; the truth of his birth, his existence.

The only way he could find these answers was
in the city. And so, on a cold night in winter, Neach set off for
Leirwold without the slightest idea of what it was he needed to do,
or where specifically it was that he was going.

The night sky offered no comfort in its dark
and expansive abyss. Only a few stars could be seen shining, and
the moon was covered by a thick layer of clouds. The weather seemed
to change frequently here. One moment there was vibrant sunshine,
the next, a cold rain would be falling. This spontaneity worried
Neach, as he embarked toward Leirwold.

He knew that he needed to head eastward over
the hill in order to go in the general direction of the city. A
specific anecdote his father had told him rang true in his mind, as
he walked along the path toward the hill.

When he was younger, his father had told him
of a trip he had made to the city as a young boy. Accompanied by
his parents, Asgall had been taken there to see a musical
performance. Music was a large part of the culture of the valley,
and his parents knew of a man who had been born in Spleuchan Sonse,
and moved to Leirwold in hopes of becoming a famous musician.

This man, Daniel, as his father had called
him, was not just any man. He was a phenomenally skilled lute
player, and his talents had apparently taken him to the pinnacle of
musicianship within the community in Leirwold.

This story played through in his mind and
was important for a specific reason to Neach. His father had
mentioned that he would reach a fork in the road near a large tree
and upon arrival, he would need to go left.

Neach carried on with his journey as this
information embedded itself in his mind. Any advice he could have
would be crucial to his survival on this trip. The wind howled and
the cold seemed to insert itself inside of his clothing. There was
no escaping the winter chill and as he reached the top of the hill,
a light snow began to fall.

Snow was not uncommon in this area, but only
a few times yearly. The flakes fell from the sky like tiny dancers
and nestled themselves in the foliage surrounding the path. It was
a beautiful sight to witness as the sun was rising. The light hit
the flakes and acted as a natural lantern.

After a few minutes, the grass began to be
covered by the snow. Neach had a preference to this weather. He
loved watching the valley become immersed in a blanket of white and
the contrast of the wood smoke on the pure white ground. There was
something about snow that made him feel at home. It acted as a
natural representation of how felt on the inside. Even when things
are most cold, there is still beauty to behold.

Onward and upward he trudged down the hill
and into a gulch that was present at its base. The path was
starting to accumulate and it was becoming difficult to see in the
winter haze. His clothes were wet but a burning fire within him
convinced him to push on through the frigid conditions.

The grass was completely covered by snow
now, and it gave a serene quality to the landscape around him. A
vast expanse of grass and trees, covered in a white layer that
seemed to connect with the sky in a seamless fashion. If you
weren’t careful you would be keen to think that the world around
you was simply a circle of white.

Snow built up in his hair and he promptly
shook it off.

Up ahead he saw the fork and tree which his
father had told him about in the past. Continuing to the left,
Neach put his faith in his father’s word as he bounded toward the
ultimate destination: Leirwold.

Sporadic bursts of snow temporarily blinded
Neach and created a thick layer of snow once he had traveled a ways
on the path. It was nearly impossible to see anything around him,
it was as if he were enveloped in a white cloth that shook his core
from cold in every instant.

Alas, he pressed on, hoping that his journey
would turn fruitful shortly. He had been travelling for what seemed
like an eternity but what in reality may have been a few hours. In
the distance he saw a deer run across the path. Maybe it had lost
its family, maybe it was looking for food. In a strange sequence of
events,

Neach could identify with the deer. It was
like their lives met in congruence and they were capable of having
a palpable relationship in that moment.

In the distance, it appeared he could make
out a vague outline of the outer walls of a city. His vision
worsened from the incoming snow and wind, he was unsure if he were
imagining it or if it were something of note. He walked a bit
further until it was apparent now. About a mile or so in front of
him sat the defensive walls of a majestic city. It was
breathtaking, even from afar. He saw the exquisitely carved stone
which made up the watchtower and marveled at the engineering feats
which must have taken place to craft such a massive structure.

His pace increased at a noticeable rate.
Threatening to break into a full sprint, Neach collected his
emotions and trotted back down to a walking pace. His insides
burned with the passion of curiosity and hunger. Both literally and
figuratively, he hoped he could acquire something to eat once he
entered the city’s gates.

He was so close to it now that he could
nearly taste it. The vague outline had now materialized into a
stoic stone edifice that loomed over the countryside in an imposing
manner. The snow had let up and his journey began to slowly
deescalate into a smooth walk. His clothes and body wet, he
strolled along the path which had now morphed into a complex road,
complete with handrails and new stone foundations on the ground.
With each footstep, his shoes collided with the stone under the
snow and caused a muffled reverberation in the early morning
hours.

It was unlike anything he’d ever seen
before. Even from the outside, the city was a marvelous sight. At
the top of the towers, archers paced back and forth awaiting any
outside threats. Below them, a collection of guards stood watch
over the stalls and townspeople who found themselves outside the
city walls.

From both sides, a road wrapped around. Even
at this early hour, the street was showing signs of potential for
the day to come. Vendors were coming with their fruits and
vegetables in hopes of selling or bartering their product.

Neach couldn’t help but let a smile
encompass his face. The joy of what he saw was a strong contrast to
the state of his clothing and hair. Soaked from head to toe, Neach
looked the part of a weary wanderer. His agricultural upbringing
was evident from the clothing he wore and he was unabashedly a
villager from the way he carried himself.

The area around Leirwold held a multitude of
villages. Each village was run by a collective of men who made
decisions for their respective constituents and attempted to
provide them with the best living conditions possible. It was
unlikely that the people in any of these villages would make a trip
to Leirwold more than once a year.

Leirwold was where the King resided.
Although the villages were not controlled completely by his rule,
he did have a minimal impact on their wellbeing. If there town were
to be raided by a foreign force, the standing army of Leirwold
would be there to defend them within a few hours, assuming they
received word of the attack.

Leirwold was the urban hub of the Kingdom of
Duncairn and was the residence of some of its brightest minds.
Within the city walls, education and art flourished. A brilliant
example of the greatness of the people, Leirwold was the
reification of all which was good in the Kingdom.

As a child, Neach rarely heard about the
Kingdom or Leirwold in general. The villagers were strikingly
removed from the everyday occurances and the only thing which could
identify their allegiance to their kingdom was a singular flag
which flew in the northwestern corner of the town.

The flag was a bold crimson color with a
triad located at its center. The triad was an orange triangle with
a yellow symbol in the middle. On the fringe of the left part of
the flag was a jagged yellow pattern as well. Although not
something that the villagers prided themselves upon specifically,
the people of Spleuchan Sonse owed it to the Kingdom of Duncairn
for their protection and future.

At the top of the watchtower, this same flag
flapped in the snow and wind as Neach approached the city walls.
His ragged body was greeted promptly by the guards who were located
in front of the open gates.

“
State your business, sir,”
the guard on the right proclaimed. His strength was evident in the
booming voice which emanated from what seemed like the very depths
of his body.

Neach quickly replied with something he
himself was even surprised at.

“
I’m here to see a family
friend,” he stated, “Daniel the lute player, I’m not sure if you
know him.”

Seemingly not fazed by Neach’s presence, the
guard’s stepped aside and allowed him free entry into the city
limits. What he saw upon his entry nearly stopped him in his
tracks.

For as far as the eye could see, masses of
people filled the city streets and flocked from shop to shop with
bundles of goods in their hands. Stone buildings lined the streets
and housed everything from an apothecary to a butcher. The city was
alive with the spoken word of virtually every person who was on the
street. On such a cold winter’s morning, Neach expected to see very
few people out.

But then again, Neach wasn’t sure what he
was expecting exactly. For a man who had never left the valley
which he called home, Leirwold was a shocking discovery in his
young adolescent life. To see things of all natures, from all
places, available for purchase in a small area was breathtaking.
The scenes that were taking place out on the street far surpassed
anything his mind had ever conjured in reference to this place.

His expectations, little they were, were
blown out of proportion when he entered those city gates. The
hustle and bustle of city life seemed to invigorate his cold and
wet body as he headed to the left down a street labeled “Wold
Way”.