Monroe

Chapter Eighty-one. Into Harbordeep.

Chapter Eighty-one. Into Harbordeep.

Bob took a long breath and then slowly released it.

He was revising his opinion of Thayland.

Harbordeep spread out in a sweeping crescent; it's back to a massive cliff that clawed hundreds of feet into the sky and its leading-edge lining the bay.

The cliff continued out into the water, forming a harbor with only a narrow channel leading to the sea.

A wall encircled the city, jutting out into the water and encompassing a quarter of the bay.

It was difficult to judge, but Bob estimated the wall to be sixty or seventy feet high and nearly as thick.

The buildings that stood behind the wall were varied in shape and size, although they were laid out neatly, and all seemed to be constructed from the same pale yellow stone as the walls themselves.

Another, even higher wall formed a second crescent within the city, and finally, a third wall, close to the base of the cliff, formed what Bob recognized as a bailey for the castle that rested against the cliff face.

Or perhaps a palace might be more accurate. It loomed high above the wall, which was itself twice or more the height of the impressive wall that encircled the city.

Arches of the same pale stone linked towers, spires, and what might have been a rounded observatory.

Harbordeep was, at least from this distance, beautifully impressive.

"Just pop down to the gate and check-in with the guard," Ellan advised, "they'll need to see your Adventurers badge, but once they've marked you in their ledger, you'll be free to run about the city."

"You see that set of spires laid out like a seven-pointed star?" Ellan gestured to a tall building in the middle of the second ring.

Bob nodded.

"That's the Church; you'll find the Adventurers Guild next to it," Ellan said, "Good luck, and remember to keep your head down."

Ellan teleported away, leaving Bob to his own devices.

Bob looked around the cobblestoned area with a fresh eye.

It sat atop a low hill on the cliff to the south of the city. Glancing down, Bob could see a road switchbacking its way down the cliff to arrive near the tunnel in the wall that likely served as the gateway to the city.

He reached up and dug his fingers into Monroe's ruff, as much to soothe the big cat as for himself.

Bob started to walk down the path, playing a safe bet that opening a portal in front of the tunnel wouldn't be conducive to keeping his head down.

~ ~ ~ ~

Bob waited patiently as the line flowed smoothly up to, and presumably into, Harbordeep.

Now that he was closer, he could see that the wall was a good seventy feet high and fifty feet thick. Despite squinting and straining his eyes from twenty feet away, Bob wasn't able to spot a joint. The surface appeared to be semi-glossy, almost polished.

He wrenched his attention from the wall as the road leading to the city turned sharply, and the entrance came into view.

It truly was a tunnel through the wall.

Two groups of three men each were processing people and allowing them to enter the city, while the third group of four stood behind them. They seemed quick and efficient, and Bob watched as they called the third group forward to speak to one of the people waiting in line before waving her through.

The line drew closer quickly, and a few minutes later, Bob found himself facing three armored men.

"Name," one of the men asked perfunctorily.

Bob tried not to stare.

Now that he was face to face with him, Bob was surprised to find that the man was several inches taller than his own six feet. Further, he had black scales around his eyes and on the backs of his hands.

"Bob," he managed and held out his Adventurers badge.

Black-scale took the badge and scrutinized it.

"Holmstead," he said over his shoulder, "you two ever hear of a Holmstead?"

"I think so," another member of the three-man team said. Aside from extra height and width, the man's armor prevented Bob from seeing any of his features.

"Yeah," the final member of the team chimed in, "tiny little backwater, founded a couple of hundred years ago."

The third man didn't wear a helmet and looked like a normal man, although he was nearly as tall and broad as Thidwell.

Bob had a sinking feeling that all three of them were tier six.

"What's your business in Harbordeep?" Black-scale asked, not unkindly.

"Here to delve the Dungeon, sir," Bob said with a bow of his head.

"He's telling the truth," the fully armored man said.

Black-scale snorted, "I'm not a judge, but even I can tell that," he shook his head and handed Bob his plate back.

"What's the deal with the cat?" Black-scale asked, gesturing to Monroe, who was surveying all of his new subjects with an imperious air.

"My familiar," Bob said.

"You're responsible for anything it does while you're in the city," Black-scale warned, although there was a hint of a smile there as Bob reached up to rub Monroe under the chin.

"All he really does is eat, shed his fur everywhere, and demand attention," Bob replied.

Black-scale shook his head and chuckled, "Just a typical cat then," he snickered.

"Just keep following the main road until you see the Church," Black-scale said, "and look for the humble building just past it," he finished with a grin.

"Thank you," Bob said as Black-scale moved to the side to allow Bob to continue into the tunnel ahead.

He took a few slow, deep breaths as he walked into the tunnel. It was a semi-circle, thirty-foot in diameter, with the roof just over twenty-feet above. A thin straight strip of light ran along the top of the tunnel, the semi-gloss stone glowing in the light.

Bob wasn't entirely certain, but he thought the stone was feldspar, which meant if this was locally sourced stone, then the harbor was, in fact, the caldera of an ancient volcano.

As he absently considered the wall's construction, his mind circled back to the guards at the tunnel.

He'd expected to encounter tier six individuals, but he'd expected them to be nobles or the guild leader.

That tier six men and women were relegated to guard duty...

Bob furthered his resolve to keep his head down.

He stepped out of the tunnel and onto the broad boulevard that stretched into the city. The streets were cobblestone, also likely feldspar, although with a more amber tint. The buildings were built on a granite base, with the uppermost floor or two done in feldspar. Obsidian inlays formed isometric patterns or swirling murals.

The granite varied from dull gray, a golden grey spackle, to a marbled gray and hues of pink, orange, amber, red, and even green.

The feldspar was almost a uniform yellowish amber, which stood in stark contrast to the obsidian that shone darkly, ranging from black to smoke.

Evergreens grew in perfect rows of four alongside the street, the two outer trees a darker blue-green than the two center trees, a pattern that repeated over and over.

Bob kept walking as he tried to take it all in.

Men and women moved about, many of them with the height to indicate tier six, others with features that suggested it, a man whose eye sockets were quite literally filled with flame, a woman whose hair was composed of gently swirling water, another figure, androgynous with no hair, and skin that reflected the light, looking for all the world like obsidian.

Monroe's tail swished as he sniffed the air, eyeing the new people with slitted eyes, a low purr rumbling through Bob's shoulders.

He saw dozens of people moving into, along, and off of the boulevard. He soon identified that the murals were indicative of business of some type, although there were more direct signs over some of the entryways.

Bob saw two armorers, a jeweler, a clothier, and three grocers. There were several signs that weren't clear, or he couldn't read from his angle, but it was clear this served as a business district.

Given the balconies on the upper stories, some of them enclosed in glass; Bob suspected the buildings' upper levels served as apartments.

Two women had stopped at the corner just ahead of him, chatting happily, one showing off a long obsidian dagger, inlaid with golden runes, her enthusiasm for the weapon clearly shared by her friend.

As he walked past, he caught a snippet of the conversation.

"I'm thrilled, I may have had to wait for three and a half months, but Bullard is well worth it," gushed the woman holding the dagger.

"I'm sure," her friend agreed, "and you said it's professionally and magically enhanced to level thirty-six?"

Bob kept walking.

The city smelled, but it was the smell of ocean meeting land, rather than the smell of an imperfect sewer system, and even the smell of the sea was relieved by the scent of the evergreens.

It was only a few minutes walk, perhaps a quarter of a mile, moving through the well-populated boulevard, before he came to the second wall.

This one was easily a hundred feet tall, although it boasted no guards, simply another tunnel entrance, remarkably similar to the first.

Bob paced through the tunnel, estimating that the wall was likely seventy or so feet wide.

He shook his head as he traced his hand along the wall, confirmed that it was at least somewhat polished.

These walls had to have built with magic. The megalithic nature of the construction almost demanded it.

They had to have been built to protect the city from the mana tide, he mused. They certainly didn't need walls so tall and so thick against a simple wave.

Emerging back into the sunlight, Bob was struck by how the buildings on this side of the wall were much more elaborately designed and decorated.

The buildings were spaced further apart, and each had a walled square around it, over which the tops of trees could be seen. Some of the walls had vines growing over them, carefully pruned and shaped. He saw a mural made of vines stretched over golden feldspar, a pair of bulls charging each other across a field.

Another was nearly white granite with an inlay of obsidian showing a series of crows in flight.

Bob slowly walked along the side of the boulevard, soaking in the sights.

The men and women who frequented this district almost all walked with an air of confidence that screamed to the world that they belonged amongst this beauty.

Bob saw a ripple in the flow of those passing down the boulevard, as people shifted slightly, or in some cases stepped fully out of the path of a man who strode down the street as though it was his by right, and only by virtue of his tolerance did others walk it.

Bob considered that he might not be wrong.

Eight feet tall, crimson red scales instead of skin, a brow ridge instead of eyebrows, two swept-back horns, a tail, and leathery scaled wings served to set the man apart from all others.

Bob was well away from him, but he still kept his head slightly down.

He was all but certain that this man was tier seven.

'You are quite right,' Trebor said softly, 'a tier seven Draconian.'

'A not uncommon apotheosis, popular due to the natural affinity to Endurance, as well as significantly increased natural armor, the ability to fly, and for those martially inclined, the addition of a breath weapon to their arsenal,' Trebor finished.

Bob shook his head. Everyone seemed so casual about changing their form. He was trying to wrap his head around the idea, but some part of him couldn't help but shudder.

The man passed by, and traffic resumed.

Bob continued to walk slowly, taking note of the architecture as well as the people.

The buildings beyond the short walls differed significantly from those in the outer district.

Whereas the outer city, as he was terming it in his mind, were uniform in height and occupied square blocks, here the buildings varied, one with domes, another with a slender spire supported by delicate arches of stone that reached down to solid round towers.

He soon came to a stop as he reached what could only be the Church.

Seven tall spires reached up over a hundred feet, each one a slightly different shade of yellow. There was a preponderance of windows, many of them appearing to be made of stained glass. Bob continued towards the building, noting that while it occupied several square blocks, it was shaped like a seven-pointed star. The areas outside the building, between the points, appeared to be gardens, with benches strewn along cobbled paths.

The Church itself seemed very open, with broad entryways at the base of each spire, and set into the walls linking them as well.

Various clergymen and women headed into and stepped out of the Church, wearing robes of subtly hued shades of yellow.

Bob continued past the church as he'd been instructed, and his eyes fell onto a building that certainly qualified as 'humble' in comparison to the other buildings in the district, let alone the Church it stood next to.

A mere three stories, perhaps fifty feet in height, it seemed to almost hunch over, cowering in the shadows of the Church.

Dull gray granite formed the ground floor walls, and plain, unadorned yellow feldspar served for the upper two stories.

It would have been unremarkable beyond its lack of height in the outer district, but here...

Bob couldn't help but feel that the placement and construction was a deliberate statement.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and walked into the Adventurers Guild in Harbordeep.