The rest of the road toward Shepfold was uneventful, and after another few hours of walking, we could finally see the city. Built on top of a hill, it expanded toward the nearby Althon River, protected by three semicircular walls that grew taller the closer you got to the center of the city. Just outside the lowest walls, a massive group of tents sprawled across the ground. As we came closer, the earth became muddier, and the stench coming from the refugee camps became more pronounced.
"Kid, let me speak," Miklas said, turning toward me.
In front of the gatehouse we were approaching, a long queue was forming to pass through. It was mostly people laden with baggage or dressed in rags, and every now and then, some carts and carriages pulled by horses—mostly merchants. As I was about to step into the line, Miklas shook his head, pulled me closer to him, and kept walking, skipping the line entirely.
As soon as the first protest was raised by one of the many desperate refugees, Miklas threw back the heavy cloth he had been using while traveling to reveal his scale mail and leather gambeson, still heavily stained with dried blood. No one said a word after that.
"Salute, Captain. What is your business in Shepfold, sir?" said the guardsman, bringing both of his clenched fists to his chest.
"Salute, guardsman. My cohort engaged the coalition forces, and I am here to report."
The man took a long look at both Miklas and me, then moved to the side.
Inside, the city was totally different from anything I had ever seen. The houses were mostly built from rock and hardened timber. They were all attached to one another, but a stone wall at least a handspan thick separated each house from the next. The buildings were mostly dyed in blue and green tones, and the streets were paved with smaller, more refined stone tiles than the ones on the dirt road outside.
The people also felt different. Most of them were dressed in clean clothes, and every single one of them had a small, traditional Veriti knife resting on their belt—a curved blade mostly used for trials. But it wasn’t just their clothes. I noticed how they walked with their heads down, purposefully avoiding eye contact. In my village, everyone knew everyone. Here, well-dressed citizens stepped over men in rags and dirt sleeping in the dark of the alleys beneath the stone roofs, not even breaking their stride. They were completely dissociated from the misery around them.
Noticing me wandering around with my eyes and not paying attention to the road, Miklas took my hand. "Are you getting lost, little girl? Never seen a city?"
"Of course I’ve never seen a city. I never even left my village," I retorted.
A brilliant observation from the decorated Captain, I thought, rolling my eyes.
"Okay, okay, sorry. Follow me and do not get lost. We still need to go through the second gatehouse before arriving at the legion building."
While walking, I could see how deeply people’s lives differed from the one I had lived until now. Patrols of two guardsmen paced the roads, keeping the rigid order of the city intact.
The second walls were noticeably higher and more fortified than the first. If the first were three meters tall, these were at least five meters, and a moat was added around them, effectively making the hill a part of the nearby river. Two men stood guard on one side of the gate, while two foot soldiers and two cavalrymen stood on the other.
Without waiting for an introduction, Miklas took a silver emblem out of a hidden pouch. I could not see it clearly because he was standing in front of me, but the soldiers recognized it instantly and let him pass. One of the two cavalrymen approached him.
"Salute, Sir Knight. We did not expect your arrival. To what do we owe it?"
"I need to talk to the legion commander. My cohort fought the coalition forces, and I am here to report the outcome of the battle."
The man took a heavy ledger from his saddle pouch. After looking through it and glancing back up at Miklas more than once, he said, "Your identity has been confirmed, Captain Knight-Mage Miklas of the 5th Cohort. You can enter and debrief the commander. But who is she?"
Miklas looked down at me, and after a fleeting moment of hesitation, whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Do not hate me."
Turning back to the guard, he kept his voice remarkably steady. "She is my bastard daughter. I took her out of hiding and want to add her to my family register."
I blinked, my logical mind immediately dissecting the lie. We both had pitch-black hair. I had my mother’s grey eyes, which easily passed for commoner blood. It was a mathematically perfect cover story. But still... his daughter?!
"Sir Miklas, you know that there are strict rules for that. Do you have at least three testimonies and the mother’s consent?"
"Of course I have everything in order. A Magister already approved it," Miklas said. He reached into his pouch, stepping closer to the cavalryman under the pretense of handing over invisible paperwork. With the smooth, practiced sleight of hand of a Trade District noble, he slipped two gold fairs directly into the soldier’s palm.
The cavalryman’s hand closed instantly. "I see. Yes, it seems to me the documents are completely in order. Pass through. The commander will have your debrief this evening."
"Thanks a lot, and may Jute always favor you, soldier."
As we walked through the second gate, I gave him the nastiest glare I could muster.
He made a decision this important without even consulting me! And ’bastard daughter’? Really?