As the drake raced on, Jolthar's mind turned to the task ahead. The Emperor's decree demanded 300 men, but Jolthar had no intention of sending anyone else to their deaths. He would handle this himself, as he always did. His drake was more than a match for any Chittera, and his knashii had tasted the blood of countless enemies. But Godeylet was not just a battlefield; it was a place filled with enemies in and out.
The landscape began to change as they drew closer to the county. The rolling hills and dense forests of the barony gave way to rocky outcrops and barren plains, the air growing drier and hotter with every mile. The drake's pace slowed slightly as the terrain became more rugged, her powerful legs adapting effortlessly to the uneven ground. Jolthar scanned the horizon, his sharp eyes picking out the distant silhouette of Godeylet's walls. They were still miles away, but even from this distance, he could see the faint glow of the city's lights, a beacon in the gathering dusk.
As they approached, Jolthar guided the drake to a halt on a rise overlooking the city.
From here, he could see the sprawling expanse of Godeylet, its streets lit by flickering torches and lanterns, its castle perched high on a rocky outcrop like a sentinel watching over the land. The city was alive with activity, even at this hour, the sounds of music and laughter drifting up on the warm evening breeze. But there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, a sense of unease that even Jolthar could feel.
He looked around, his senses picking up the presence around him. And it was alive and brimming with killing intent. He could see the eyes in the shadows, filled with a predatory gaze, directed at him and the drake.
Maelruth raised her legs and roared at the sky. As soon as the roar erupted, a wave of wind swept across them, shaking the ground where the drake stood.
Jolthar frowned as he looked at Maelruth, then he looked at the surroundings again. Those beasts that were gazing at them with bloodlust suddenly shifted to something.
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Maelruth was showing her strength to those beasts who directed their bloodlust. It seems like her pride was not going to allow any threats to go unchallenged. She asserted her dominance with just a single roar.
Jolthar chuckled, feeling that the drake was becoming like him. Maelruth didn't allow them to show their fangs at her for long.
Jolthar was sure that they were all the beasts around them but they didn't attack them and it made him wonder. They were only watching them from a distance.
He dismounted, patting the drake's neck as she let out a low, rumbling growl. "Easy, girl," he murmured, his voice calm but firm. "We're not here to pick a fight. Not yet, anyway."
The drake snorted, her glowing eyes fixed on the surroundings. She seemed to sense the danger, her muscles tense and ready for action. Jolthar reached into his pack and pulled out a cloak, draping it over his shoulders to conceal his armour and weapons. He didn't want to draw unnecessary attention—not until he knew what he was dealing with.
Jolthar stepped through the gates of Godeylet, the bustling city enveloping him in a cacophony of sounds, smells, and sights. He stated his identity as the knight of the Barony of Tekkora. No one had knighted him; he lied about it, not that anybody here would care. He was representing the Barony now.
The guards at the gates looked at him and the drake beside him. They were surprised by such a creature, but they weren't intimidated by its presence.
He carried a token, which he showed to the guards; it was given to him by Roblan. The token was like a recognition for the soldiers of the empire.
The streets were alive with activity, even as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city's lanterns flickered to life. Merchants called out to passersby, their stalls overflowing with exotic goods—spices from the southern deserts, silks from the eastern kingdoms, and weapons forged in the fires of distant lands. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat, spilled ale, and the faint tang of smoke from the countless torches lining the streets.
Here, everything felt unbound, unrestricted. A melting pot of races and cultures. Every street was filled with people, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of trade, gossip, and occasional laughter. Godeylet, the so-called neutral city, thrived on this chaos.
But despite his best efforts to keep a low profile, his companion had already drawn attention.
His drake, a towering, crimson-scaled beast, drew immediate attention as she lumbered behind him. Her massive frame and glowing eyes made her impossible to ignore, and the crowd parted instinctively as she moved, whispers and gasps following in her wake.
Jolthar ignored the stares, his focus on finding a stable large enough to accommodate her. He eventually found one near the edge of the city, a sprawling structure meant for warhorses and the occasional exotic mount.
The stablemaster, a grizzled man with a missing eye, eyed the drake with a mix of awe and apprehension.
"That's… quite the beast you've got there," the stablemaster said, his voice tinged with both respect and fear.
"She's not going to eat my horses, is she?"
Jolthar smirked, patting the drake's neck. "Not unless you give her a reason to," he said. "Just make sure she's fed and watered. And don't try to touch her unless you want to lose a hand."
The stablemaster nodded, swallowing hard as he gestured for Jolthar to lead the drake into an empty stall.
The creature grumbled softly, her glowing eyes narrowing as she surveyed her temporary home. Jolthar leaned in, whispering something in her ear before stepping back. "I'll be back soon," he said. "Stay out of trouble."
He paid the stablemaster the coin. Roblan insisted that he carry a few coins on him, in case he needed any. Jolthar was thankful that he gave it to him.
With the drake settled, Jolthar made his way back into the heart of the city.