As the precious green plains below passed by, three heroes were flying towards the horizon, where the mighty capital of the human race was waiting for their unexpected arrival. All they saw beneath the clouds were abandoned villages, settlements and war forts, burnt down to ashes. Those were the terrifying remains of unknown enemy's army severe crusade, which truly exhibited his tremendous power, overwhelming cruelty and intimidating desire for destruction. Bloody corpses of the executed, robbed inns, destroyed market stalls, ravaged forges and houses, raised to the ground by heavy catapults' fire — each of those terrifying exhibits poured unexpected feeling of terror and disgust. Passing over these fearsome monuments, our heroes realized, how powerful their enemy was and that the war would not be the easiest to wage.
As they were approaching Eldoras, the weather was getting warmer and warmer: snow was slowly retreating and wide golden rye fields, on which laborious peasants were peacefully cultivating, appeared instead of lifeless frozen plains of the north. It as a pure delight to finally reach this marvelous lands of prosperity and peacefulness. Except for the dragon: he didn't appreciate such a sudden change of a climate and was feeling pretty hot.
Finally, our heroes reached a village, located near the city, which, hopefully, hadn't been touched by the poisonous thumb of war. An atmosphere of pure calmness and warmth was dominant in its clear air, as if nobody was concerned about the upcoming war and sudden destruction of one of the main northern border controls. Each peasant was concerned only about his personal oddities: one was bargaining, others were covering loopholes in the roofs, someone was peacefully sleeping on verandas, some peasants were carrying freshly-mowed wheat into ambars and warehouses — none of them was aware of terrible danger.
—No way...—Gilroy, having put off a warm hood, startlingly whispered.
—I can't believe it...—Esrael murmured.—Don't they know what the war is? —They do, but they are not informed,—the dragon calmly replied, having turned into a human form.—Tempestwind was taken quite rapidly. No messengers were sent. To make matters worse, enemy chieftains led their platoons the other way — through the Eldoturian steppes. I don't think they have been spotted yet.
—That's garbage! They should have known that!—Esrael couldn't believe his eyes. He immediately rushed towards the small settlement. When our hero noticed a peasant, who was slowly leading his big brown horse, he immediately stopped before him and calmly asked him, whether he knew about the upcoming war or not.
—War?!—the old peasant, having stopped his horse, exclaimed.—What are you talking about? That's truly a fairytale for naive! All our enemies were defeated long ago and none shall dare to enter our glorious domain!
—We need to talk to His Majesty Pendragon,—Gilroy, realizing that it was senseless to persuade the old man, addressed.—Would you kindly tell us where can we find him?
—He's at the palace, as usual. But there's a very little chance you would enter the gates: the king is now busy with economic affairs of governs, so there's a guard placed all over the dungeon.
—Maybe there is a little chance to get there?—Esrael asked.—An important message from the border or anything else?
—I'm afraid there's nothing that can interrupt him,—the old man heavily nodded.—To make matters worse, there're patrols all over the town and palace is not the exception. It's not a regular situation out here, but when there're some important questions to be discussed, all the forces are mobilized. Just trust me — I know that.
—Maybe there is anyone who could have guided us through the guard?—the dragon, trying to pull out some information from the peasant, asked.
—There is. A goblin. He holds a small potion stall somewhere in the west part of the town. He's not the law-abiding merchant, but still a successful one indeed. Probably he could have helped you. He definitely has a way to get into the palace on his mind.
—Thank you,—Esrael thanked the old land owner.—You've been very helpful. After a short chat, he headed towards large, wide open gates of Eldoras, which were one of the most eye-catching among gates of other cities of Uniearth. Gilroy decided not to wait behind and after politely nodding to the old man hurried after Esrael, slightly brushing his soft well-groomed mustache. The dragon stood near the peasant, thoughtfully staring at his small wooden house. Then he turned to him and politely addressed:
—I can't express all my gratitude for what you've done. I offer you my sincere thanks.
—You don't have to,—the old man replied, laughing.—I've been living here for decades and I always help guests of this marvelous sea center with pleasure. It has become my informal duty.
—Before we leave, I have to tell you essential information,—dragon addressed with anxiety. The old man's face filled with tension.—A war is coming to these lands. The new war. We've been to Tempestwind on the way here. It was destroyed by the unknown enemy. A great hoard is marching here to rumble Eldoras to the ground. I plead you to warn your fellow villagers and hide behind city walls before it's too late.
—I will,—the old peasant, having dropped his eyes, seriously replied.—I never thought I would see the world's sinking in blood again...
But he couldn't hear a single reply: the peasant raised his eyes and saw, how his interlocutor was rapidly distancing, keeping up with his comrades. The farmer realized that it would be silly to try to stop him only in order to achieve further acquaintance, so he came up to his horse, grabbed her by the bridle and calmly headed towards his house.
***
After a long, exhausting journey our adventurous trinity: Esrael, Gilroy and the dragon — finally arrived at their most desired aim — Eldoras.
—Here we are at last! The most powerful human domain is greeting us with its arms wide-open!—Gilroy enthusiastically exclaimed, watching enormous gates of the tremendous white-colored watch-house.—There was no army to succeed in rumbling its impregnable walls! The legends say that long time ago an orc chieftain dared to siege Eldoras. The assault lasted over fifty days, but it was useless: lacking in ammo and provision, he was forced to retreat and surrender to town's warlords! Isn't that incredible?
—For sure it is,—the dragon, observing wealthy merchants moving out of the city's gates, pleasantly counting their shining golden coins.—I hope this time luck will be on our side.
—Oh, my...—Esrael, observing snow-white stony walls, heavily sighed.—All in all, no sense of admiration can hide the feeling of losing your mother-town. Noone could expect the fate Tempestwind had faced.
Having passed powerful gates, which had been hammered by battering rams countless times, our courageous trinity finally entered the town. Its walls, festooned with colorful flags on high crenels, were crowded with battlehardened soldiers, who were wearing sun-sparkling armor, which underlined their overwhelming handsomeness. Their sight was full of courage and it was clear that they would defend their city and His Majesty until the last blood drop's falling on the walls. Nevertheless, the city's fearsome look didn't exhibit its true identity: inside it was a vivid and cozy capital, boiling with prosperity and happiness. Our heroes were surrounded by dozens of fortune-tellers' and shamans' pavilions, alongside with inns and goblins' shops. Broad streets were full of wandering buffoons, carriages of wealthy barons and lords, moving pass platoons of soldiers who were marching past multi-story houses. Speaking of which: each house in Eldoras had its own place. For example, hovels of the poor were placed near the wall, houses of lower-class merchants were situated a little bit farther from the wall, the ones of noblemen and merchants of the higher guild, who didn't pay any fees — in the center row. The highest places above all the others were taken by lords and wealthy noblemen. Temples of the gods were not an exception: they were placed on the level beneath the king's dungeon, because the rules of the clergy took a very important place in humans' society, so the buildings, which belonged to it, had to be on the higher rows.
—I suppose we should go there,—the dragon, pointing at the king's residence, said.—We have to hurry, otherwise king could not have received us.
—It's more important not to get a bum's rush out here,—Gilroy, observing a fight of boisterous drunk men.—Nobody wants to get his ass kicked, right? Esrael and dragon agreed and rapidly continued their way through the crowded streets of precious capital of human's kingdom. The route, however, was not the shortest one: crooked streets, tiny nooks and hidden lanes often led two wanderers into dark deadlocks, irritating them pretty much. Probably, they had to be born in Eldoras to feel themselves like a fish in the water. Esrael and Gilroy felt pretty dizzy because of hundreds of noises of the big city ranging from nerve-cracking senseless chatter of two maids to hearcutting rumble of passing chariots and carriages. Well, it can't be said that their reaction was unexplainable: our heroes were born in a small bordertown fortress, where everyone was on familiar terms with everyone, so that's why this infinite street labyrinth seemed to them a cruel ordeal rather than a simple combination of streets. That's why it took them pretty much time to find the dungeon.
—Haven't we arrived yet?—Gilroy pathetically asked.—These damn streets and crooked turns make my head whizz.
—This guy knows what he's saying,—Esrael, slowly doddering along crowded path.—It seems we've got lost.
—Don't be sheepish,—the dragon, vividly wandering on the stone pavement, assured.—I know the way. You can't simply fool him,—he pointed at his nose.
—Hold on,—Esrael got confused.—Why nose?
—It seems the main meal in Royal canteen will be absolutely mouthwatering today,—the dragon, turning on another street, dreamingly said.—It's completely impossible not to smell it.
—Cheese!—Gilroy startlingly exclaimed.—You really can smell the food in the palace from such a long distance, can't you?
—Absolutely correct,—the dragon, flattening against a wall in order to avoid collision with a carriage, replied.—We're almost there.
—What do you mean by "almo..."—suddenly Gilroy felt the cold shower of lunch leftovers pouring on his head and neck. He was petrified, giggling his eyes wide. Having heard Esrael's laugh, he irritatingly murmured:—Very funny...
—Don't worry — life in a big city is not always roses,—the dragon, observing Gilroy brush off the remains of food, said.—You have to have your ears prick. Sometimes they use to throw away cauldrons, so you should consider yourself lucky.
—Thanks a lot,—Gilroy replied, frowning.—Now I feel totally safe...
—I heard there is a huge port in this city,—Esrael, observing the vivid rhythm of life in the capital, addressed to the dragon:—Is that true that caravans of all seas are streaming here?
—Rumors didn't fail you,—the dragon replied.—To make matters better, Eldoras is meant to be royal navy's base. Triremes of all king's fleet are based here. In these shipyards, they accept admiralty's orders, get repaired, resupply and, of course, plan their further voyages. There are dozens of workshops where best of the best make blueprints of the most powerful vessels of Uniearth. Well, of course, it's not only a matter of war: for now, elves rent city's docks, because theirs are under construction. So, that's the rough representation of how things stand in here.
—That's purely incredible,—Gilroy, watching moored ships slightly swing on breaking waves.—I definitely will have something to tell my descendants.
Involved in admirable conversation, our heroes suddenly spotted a huge king's dungeon right before them. This royal residence was probably the most pompous and splendid among others: large walls, gold-festooned gates, fabulized with shining rubies and gems, hundreds of flags and standards, belonged to the glorious Royal dynasty — all these marvelous decorations were the lesser part of castle's finery. The dungeon was heavily protected from all sides by elite king's guard, who didn't have their eyes shut day and night, providing His Majesty's security.
—I wish I could have such accommodation...—Gilroy, having scratched his head, jealously murmured. He put out his tiny sack of gold, looked at the gates, then gave a desperate look at his sack again and sighed with overwhelming nuisance.
—We must assure the king's here,—the dragon said.—May be we will have a little chat with him.
—Good thinking. I think Gilroy will do it,—Esrael gave a confident look to his puzzled friend.
—Hold on. Why me?—Gilroy startlingly wondered.
—Because you're a son of a lord, idiot!—Esrael growned.—Have you forgotten our plan?
—No, of course, not!—Gilroy unwillingly smiled.—I'm gonna figure it out.
After assuring his friends in imminent success, Gilroy imposingly came up to the guardsmen, who didn't blink an eye, and asked: "Excuse me. As far as I am concerned, His Majesty is receiving a son of a wealthy Tempestwind's lord today. I assure you that I am the son. I have received a royal invitation letter, so would you kindly let me pass to have a conversation with our great king?"
Guardsmen didn't utter a single sound in reply — they continued standing like large stone idols. Gilroy then tried to pass, but he was imminently stopped by two sharp blades, aimed at him.
—Alright, alright, I got it,—Gilroy replied in trembling voice, moving the swords away and slowly stepping aside.—The king's in a bad mood today. Thank you.
The performance was a complete failure. Gilroy heavily moved away from the gates and headed towards his puzzled friends, scratching the spot of impact with a sword.
—I knew that it should have occurred...—the dragon, scratching his head, thoughtfully concluded.—I guess, our plan has failed. However, there are two more options left.
—Which ones?—Gilroy wondered.
—The first one — flying straight into a window and have a talk with the king, the second one — finding someone, who has a potion of invisibility.
—I like the first option!—Gilroy shared his opinion, but after seeing dragon's gimlet stare, hurried to excuse:—Just kidding.
—So, we are to find a medicaster, who knows how to make potions,—Esrael concluded.—But where?
—There is one place, actually,—the dragon, giving a look to the beautiful landscape of the city, said.—It's the market. There are dozens of stalls, where these kinds of potions are exhibited. They are not the cheapest ones, but that's not a problem for us, right?—the dragon gave Gilroy, who was jingling with his sack of golden coins, an expecting look.
—Hmm... I don't know, lads...—Gilroy, having turned a sack in his hand, thoughtfully lengthened.—Perhaps, if you return them with percent, I will...— suddenly young lover of jobbery got a punch in the stomach from his friend Esrael. Having doubled over, he heavily groaned:—Alright, alright, deal. My jobbery wasn't a success.
And so our friends moved towards the market place, where merchants from every part of Uniearth had been bargaining for hundreds of years. Someone got lucky and became incredibly reach, someone, on the contrary, so poor, that he could barely make both ends meet.