Peaceful Hostility

By: Anreik Posted on: August 22, 2009

The young grook glanced upwards. He could barely see the lattice of heavy grey clouds through the dense foliage, and there was no trace of of the air elemental who had just set him down on the ground. The elemental would not be particularly easy to spot anyway of course, appearing mostly like a wispy mass of fog, and with this particular weather as a background, the grook would have been surprised if he had been able to see anything but the glowing azure eyes. He was not worried, though. He knew the air elemental would come to do his bidding when he called, as it always did.

As he turned his gaze downwards, he quickly spotted the road just a short walk up ahead. He was very glad to have let the aerial carry him over the Vashnars. After travelling rather more briskly than he normally would, all the way from New Thera, it had been a welcome respite to simply glide through the air for the final part of his journey to Cyrene. Now, he stood before an immense mountainous wall, punctured sharply by a carved tunnel opening. People came bustling through at irregular intervals. Most of them seemed to be traders, sitting atop carriages whose design hinted to their use as transports for various goods.

Shortly after entering the tunnel, he was greeted by someone only a few paces away. His eyes had not yet adapted to the relative gloom. The sunlight seeping through from behind him was complemented by a long row of torches, but their combined effect was not enough to banish most of the darkness. As he drew nearer to the stranger, he realized it was no stranger at all. It was Elias, an agent of an Ashtanite shopkeeper, who merrily stretched out his hand towards the grook. "It's good to see you, Anreik", he said. Anreik took his hand and shook it: "And you, Elias. Buying or selling today?". At this, the merchant's face darkened somewhat, and and a long rant about the Cyrenian leadership began. It seemed that Ashtan was embargoed by Cyrene, and that no trade transactions whatsoever were allowed. The two acquaintances had to cut their conversation short, though. Elias had been unwise enough to park his train of carriages across most of the tunnel, and when forced to move them, he was swept away by a large group of wagons heading away from Cyrene.

As he slowly walked through the wide tunnel and enjoying, like perhaps few others would, the moist air, Anreik thought about what Elias had said. Come to think of it, he had heard about the embargo before, but he was not sure of the reasons behind it. He was not very interested in politics, as long as it did not affect him personally, and it was only now he realized that this might be such an occasion. "Any animosity would not extend to me, would it? I'm not important enough for anyone to care, right?", he thought to himself as he approached the intensifying glow of the tunnel's end ahead.

When he passed through the opening of the tunnel and stepped through a massive wooden gate, he blinked a few times and stopped to look all around him. A handful of runic knights and and throng of ice mages all seemed to eye him suspiciously. "But that can't be", he thought to himself, but nonetheless hurried to blend in with the crowd on Centre street. Anreik could not help but feel a bit worried, but put it all up to paranoia. It seemed ludicrous that he, a completely unknown and not very remarkable character, would be recognized as an Ashtanite. He would be surprised if he was even noticed in the disparate hustle and bustle in the city.

Wandering aimlessly towards where the concentration of people appeared even greater, he soon found himself at Centre Crossing. He took some time to admire a collection of impressive willow trees, but could not shake the thought of not being welcome out of his head. Again, he tried to blame some hitherto unknown paranoid trait, but his fears were soon confirmed. Even though he had heard much of Cyrene and longed to see its landmarks, he would still need assistance to find them. An authoritative, yet friendly-looking, man sitting almost regally on one of two stone benches seemed to Anreik like someone likely to help him. The figure merely shook his head upon Anreik's questions and claimed not to be familiar with the city's geography. "Fair enough", the grook thought, but as he walked away he could not help but overhear how the very same person now indulged in a discussion of inter-Cyrenian politics.

More by accident than determined choice, Anreik wandered off onto Ruminic Street, still lost in his own thoughts and worries. "Oh well", he said quietly to himself, "I guess I'll just have to find my own way around". As he continued to admire the towering willows, he almost slipped on a patch of wet cobblestones. He smiled and thought to himself: "Even the streets don't like me". Unperturbed and to some extent drawing strength from the feeling of tacit antagonism, he proceeded to perusing a few of the shops lining the street. In one of them, he was simply told that he was not welcome, and in another he had a finger thumped rather brusquely in his chest. His temporary good moods vanished as quickly as it had appeared and as a nearby clock tower marked noon, he was so startled he turned on the spot while simultaneously conjuring an elemental staff out of thin air. Luckily, there were no city guards around, and the only one seeming to notice him was a little girl who quickly ran away at the sight of his somewhat shocked face.

Anreik speedily left the location an stopped to lean on his staff. For fear of having gone insane, he consumed a piece of prickly ash bark. The effect was immediate and he felt his mind becoming more relaxed. What did he have to worry about? The fair citizens of Cyrene would never hurt a young explorer like himself. Honour and respect were very much valued in this Heart of the Vashnars, he knew that much. As he was once again able to focus more on absorbing his surroundings, he immediately noticed an imposing structure across the street. The sound of laughter reached him from the second floor, and Anreik decided to investigate the place. Passing through a grand entrance, and into a homely furnished hallway, he could not help but to smile a bit.

Yet again, he was quickly disappointed. Walking through the facilities he smiled happily at a blackjack attendant as he passed her table. Her response was to turn away. Muttering silent words that would indeed make the citizens loathe him, he ascended a flight of stairs. Without even looking at the host of people in the dining area, he could feel more than a few scornful looks pointed in his direction. Not wanting to be snubbed again, he grabbed a glass of red wine from a serving girl and sprinkled more than enough gold coins on her serving plate before she had time to start ignoring him.

He sighed, emptied the glass, and suppressed a discontented facial expression. The wine had a bitter after-taste he suspected had nothing to do with the liquid itself, but rather his yet again swelling feeling of paranoia. "This will not do. You'd think I'd took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in Shallam", he thought. Snorting as he left the room to find a secluded corner, he mashed another two pieces of ash into his mouth.

As he checked that no one was watching him, he concentrated deeply on the vibrations of his Master Crystal, and while relaxing his muscles allowing his subconscious to attune him to those vibrations, he felt something bump into his side. Anreik was suddenly hit by a pleasantly cool breeze on his face. He was in the much familiar and much more friendly Crystal Room of his House. He looked down to see what had bumped him on his side. A former part of someone was tied by the hair to his belt. Shaking his head and smacking himself on the forehead, he thought: "Ahh, that's why. Never accept decapitated heads from strangers. They might belong to the Minister of War of the city you next plan on visiting."