Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story, Kirill Klevanski [great reads .TXT] 📗

Ash put on his helmet and ran his fingers along the staff, drawing a few sparks.

“We’re going to Zadastra.”

Chapter 27 

14th of Zund, 322 A.D., Age of the Drunken Monk, Near Zadastra

T he Wandering Stumps rode between low, but well-kept huts and past fields littered with tall, round stacks of hay. Somewhere behind them, towered a real giant. Built on an ancient mound left over from the Age of the Dancing Dragon, the city wasn’t striking only because of its splendor, but also of the power it emanated and fear it struck into everyone’s bones.

The first wall, almost fifty feet high and about ten feet thick, was adorned with cannons and crenellations with currently empty cauldrons attached to them. The heavy gate, made of both stone and wood, covered with wrought iron, wouldn’t have yielded even to the biggest and strongest battering rams. However, the first wall was just one of the city’s many defenses.

Once upon a time, the city had been divided into eight blocks, each of which had two raised avenues at the edges, separating them from their neighbors and serving as an outpost and a divider at the same time. It was behind the second wall, which was almost as imposing as the first, that the important buildings were located—the temples, the city hall, the Tower of the Magi, the library, as well as various warehouses.

After the war, when the city was almost completely destroyed, Arabist made a very bold and progressive step. The king declared that the fortress of Zadastra would be a free trading zone, which immediately attracted numerous creatures, both human and that of other races. Drawn in by the almost tax-free trade, freedom of faith and expression, they had forced the mayor to have another wall and new houses built to accommodate everyone.

The “non-humans” formed their own societies and cliques. Steppe orcs settled in the barracks where soldiers and mercenaries had once lived. These green-skinned and fanged giants were the most ferocious and powerful warriors on the Continent. In the place of the merchants and their flimsy shops, two-storied stone houses had been built by island trolls, the tall, scrawny relatives of the elves if the legends were to be believed. However, unlike their forest loving cousins, trolls had pointier ears, sharp teeth, long arms that reached to below their knees, and blue skin. They weren’t the most pleasant thing to look at, but they could bargain with you till the cows came home and were even told to be the only ones capable of getting coin out of the dwarves. And speaking of which, dwarves, the famous misers, occupied the artisans’ quarter, where they set up their forges, bulky buildings, and warehouses. They lived from trade and craftsmanship, making everything from armor to trinkets.

Where the artists and performers had once lived, the elves now flaunted with their elegant dwellings. Grown using magic, they’ve made giant trees their homes and furnished them with the most exquisite of furniture. If you needed arrows, ointments, potions, magic scrolls, or maps, you came to the elves. You couldn’t find a better map than that drawn by an experienced elven tracker. Some claimed that the maps were so detailed, that on them were marked even the stumps of chopped up trees.

As in any society, there were those who did a little bit of this and that, everything from selling bread to selling their bodies.

The dark elves had found their place here, too. Different from their cousins by their dark skin and red eyes, they were just as intelligent, breath-taking, and talented. And although they were mostly calm and fun-loving, when it came to fighting, they always fought to the bitter end. One could say that they were more bloodthirsty than the orcs were.

The remaining two blocks were “mixed.” Interracial couples preferred to raise their kids here. Not all races mixed well, however, some not at all. But those that did, oftentimes settled here with their partners to avoid the hateful looks of their more conservative friends and cousins.

This was how the city was imagined on paper at least. In reality, people lived wherever they wanted. It wasn’t a rare sight to see an orc working and living among the dwarves or a dark elf in a human brothel, or an elf dining in one of the famous troll taverns.

Having finished observing the city, Ash turned to his companions. They had just reached the main gate.

Mary took out her bag with documents, pulled out several pieces of parchment, and handed them to the guard. Having consulted the forms, he cast a glance at the squad and allowed them to enter without asking any questions.

Tul chuckled, seeing the people behind them being searched with great care and diligence.

“Missing the school days, are you?” Lari asked, making the archer shudder and wince.

“You sure know how to ruin my fun. Congratulations, you’ve cured me of nostalgia!”

The two laughed. The morning’s tension could still be felt hanging in the air, but the overall mood had been lifted. Lari even stopped glaring at Ash, who was busy making some weird gestures with his fingers. He seemed to be trying to make a pyramid, despite the risk of dislocating a couple of phalanges.

The main avenue, which led from the gates to the second wall and branched to each of the quarters, was quite busy. Tul had to make sure that their cart didn’t collide with the carriage of some nobleman, or anyone else’s for that matter. Blackbeard did his usual job, which was to keep an eye out on people with sticky fingers. During their first trip ever, some rascal had managed to steal one of their bags. They were already at the Gerbe Desert when they noticed that some of the cargo was missing, and were forced to turn back as they were