The late afternoon sun stretched its golden fingers across the crooked streets of Greyworth, casting a warm glow over the dusty stone.
As the midday chaos softened into a lively hum, the air filled with the shouts of hawkers peddling their last wares, the creak of cart wheels navigating uneven paths, and the animated chatter of neighbors leaning against doorframes, arms folded and tongues quick.
Lucius and Garran strolled side by side, weaving through the bustling crowd.
In just an hour, Lucius had begun to sync with the city's rhythm. Yet his eyes were drawn to every detail,each one begging for closer inspection.
Greyworth wasn't a grand jewel of the Empire; it was rough around the edges, jagged yet honest,like a scar that had learned to coexist with its imperfections.
His gaze lingered on rooftops patched with tin, smoke curling from blackened chimneys, and open windows where children peered out to watch life unfold below.
Each sight whispered stories about Greyworth's place in the Empire: forgotten and left to fend for itself,a mere footnote in a book too thick to care about its margins.
"Garran," he finally asked, curiosity threading through his calm voice, "where exactly are we in this grand scheme? Which part of the Empire does Greyworth belong to?"
Garran grunted thoughtfully as he scratched at his stubbled jaw.
"Ah, geography! Well then, listen up. We're at the far edge of the Empire,practically dangling off like a half-rotten tooth nobody bothers to pull out.
Meanwhile, the Emperor lounges leagues away in his shining capital, sipping fine wine and counting golden goblets while we scrape by in this corner he probably forgot exists."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "That remote?"
"Remote enough," Garran replied with a snort.
"The fancy scribes back in capital call this place Durnholde; don't ask me why! Maybe some old Baron did something heroic ages ago and got his name slapped on a map.
Nowadays? Durnholde is just dust and stubborn folk trying to survive and a noble family that can barely afford to polish their boots."
Lucius absorbed that name quietly;
"Durnholde" rolled through his thoughts like an anchor point anchoring him deeper into understanding this overlooked barony.
"And what about Greyworth itself?" he pressed further.
"Greyworth is technically the biggest place in Durnholde,if you can even call this heap of stone 'big.'"
Garran gestured broadly at the bustling street where two men were locked in a heated argument over chicken prices,their voices echoing like fishwives haggling at market.
"Still, it's the heart of the region," Garran began, his voice carrying a mix of pride and resignation.
"Around here, five smaller cities are scattered like lost coins,none worth more than a second glance but they somehow manage to survive.
Then there are a handful of towns and plenty of villages clinging to the soil like barnacles on a shipwreck. When something needs doing, everyone looks to Greyworth. Trade? Markets? Mercenaries? You name it."
Lucius nodded slowly, absorbing this information. The structure of the region felt fragile,like a house of cards poised for collapse at the slightest breeze.
Garran continued, warming up to his own explanation.
"Think about it this way: Greyworth is like the head of a half-starved body. Chop off that head, and the rest stumbles around blind. But keep it fed, and at least those limbs keep moving."
He paused for effect before adding bitterly, "That's why merchants, guilds, and moneylenders wield far more power than they deserve; they're not just draining this city dry,they're sucking everything around it too."
Lucius couldn't help but appreciate Garran's bluntness; there was something refreshingly honest about his sharp tongue.
"And what about the Empire?" Lucius asked curiously.
"The Empire doesn't care," Garran spat casually as he narrowly avoided hitting an indignant cat that hissed back at him.
"Too far away and too small to matter. As long as those yearly taxes crawl their way to the capital, no one rides down here waving banners to check how locals are getting strangled."
For a moment, Lucius stayed silent as he watched children dart past them barefoot, laughing while chasing after a wooden hoop,a stark contrast to Garran's grim words.
Forgotten by an indifferent Empire? Exploited by greedy guilds? Bound by blood contracts and debt? It painted an unsettling picture,a noose tightening around its own neck.
And yet… Lucius felt his lips curl faintly into a smile; it was also an opportunity.
They turned down a narrower street where the vibrant noise of the market faded into the softer hum of residential life.
Laundry fluttered between windows on sagging ropes while an old woman pounded dust from a rug with a stick that looked older than she was.
Nearby, men lounged on barrels sipping cheap ale while animatedly debating which chicken laid the largest eggs.
Lucius let Garran's words linger in his mind but couldn't resist asking more questions, each one carefully crafted.
"What's Greyworth's population?"
Garran scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hard to say... Hundreds of thousands? Maybe more,depends if you count the rats!"
Lucius chuckled softly at Garran's dry humor. "And what about the smaller towns around us? Do they trade much with Greyworth?"
"Constantly! They've got no choice," Garran replied, his tone brightening as he gestured animatedly.
"Those little towns lack big markets or major guild halls,heck, half of them don't even have proper smithies! They haul everything here: grain, cloth, ore and Greyworth bleeds them dry with fees and taxes before sending them back with whatever scraps are left."
Lucius could easily picture it: a fragile chain of dependence binding these towns to Greyworth like crooked spokes on a wheel.
Another question bubbled up in his mind. "What about the nobility? Does the Baron of Durnholde rule from here?"
Garran let out a laugh that sounded more like a bark than genuine amusement.
"Rule? Hah! The Baron barely manages his own table! He's got his manor somewhere north but hardly ever shows his face here. All anyone sees are his tax collectors, and even they look embarrassed half the time!"
Lucius exhaled softly through his nose as he pieced together this portrait: A barony at the Empire's edge, governed by absent nobles and greedy guilds. Perfect.
As their conversation wound down, the sun dipped lower in the sky, spilling warm orange light across cobblestone streets.
Shadows stretched long from buildings like fingers reaching out for something lost.
Ahead loomed their estate, its gates sagging and stone walls chipped and weary with age.
Though Lucius had resigned himself to its sorry state, one figure caught his eye at the entrance: Elira.
She sat slumped against the wall, elbow propped on her knee and chin resting lazily in her palm.
Her eyelids drooped dangerously close to closing completely; a thin line of drool traced down from her lips, glistening in those last rays of daylight.
Lucius stopped dead in his tracks, disbelief mingling with resignation etched across his face. "...Unbelievable."
Beside him, Garran erupted into laughter that echoed through the quiet street, drawing curious glances from neighbors passing by.
He slapped his thigh and nearly doubled over in a huge laughter.
"By the gods! The mighty knight-in-training has been felled,not by steel or blade but by sheer boredom! Guarding your estate with… her spit!"
Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, torn between frustration and acceptance of this absurdity surrounding his so-called household guard.
Elira stirred awake, blinking slowly as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand,unintentionally smearing drool across her cheek.
"Mm? You're back?" she mumbled thickly through sleep. "I wasn't sleeping... I was… thinking."
"Thinking?" Lucius replied flatly while raising an eyebrow.
"Thinking?" Lucius replied flatly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Yes!" Elira insisted, her voice rising with urgency.
A blush crept onto her cheeks as she realized how ridiculous she sounded.
"I'm thinking… about tactics! With my eyes closed! Deep tactics!"
Garran erupted into laughter, wheezing as he clutched his side. "Aye, deep as the bottom of a beer barrel!"
Elira's face turned crimson as she scrambled to regain her composure, furiously wiping at her chin.
"I... I wasn't drooling either!"
Lucius regarded the faint glisten left behind and shook his head slowly. "Of course not. You were valiantly defending the gates with your saliva."
Her eyes widened in mock horror. "My lord!"
Leaning against the wall, Garran continued to shake with laughter. "Hah! This house is doomed! First day on duty and already our guard is leaking!"
With a weary sigh, Lucius walked past them toward the gate with deliberate calmness.
"Come inside before you embarrass yourselves further," he said, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Outside, the city was corrupt and crumbling; their estate felt half-dead.
Yet here was his knight,half-asleep and half-embarrassed and somehow it all felt lighter amidst this chaos.
This broken corner of the Empire was now his responsibility, and he was determined to turn it into something more than just a dilapidated estate!