figures. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d get many vampires out in rain like this.”
“You’d be surprised.” A familiar voice called out from beside them. She turned and saw Adrian waving them under the canopy outside a bar. His blond-hair sticking to his face.
“Been a long time.” They exchanged a brief hug and he shook hands with Sevaur. “You forget your rain coat?” She asked with a smile.
The lumberjack shrugged and pushed his hair out of his light-green eyes. His face framed with a thick beard growth since the last time she’d seen him He was wearing a silver-coloured breastplate wrapped with a teal scarf and his legs shielded by a teal threadbare half-cape. She noticed the dents and gashes in his plated-mail chest.
“Guilty as charged. It’s storm season. These things come out of nowhere.” He pointed upwards towards the rolling black rainclouds as lightning flashed in the distance. “Your voyage okay?”
“Nothing exciting. Sevaur gets sea-sick but that’s about it really.”
“No, watching other passengers be sea-sick made me feel off.” Sevaur managed through a mouthful of rain water and dragged his luggage into the shelter, setting it down on the floor.
“I wouldn’t take your eyes off that, not even for a second.” Adrian nodded towards it. “Not around here.”
Claire stared through the grubby windows of the bar watching dour faced citizens and travellers sit around in muted conversation, drowning their sorrows. Several times their glances would pass by her and linger, distrust evident on their miserable faces. The unmistakable pungent stench of hagfish soup and fresh lamprey reaching them even over the sea air as people walked in and out of the bar.
“I’ll walk you through the checkpoints, I live just outside the city limits.” Adrian piped up.
“What checkpoints?” Sevaur queried exchanging a dark look with Claire.
Adrian cracked a faint smile. “They take security against the vampire threat pretty serious around here. Curfews, checkpoints, random inspections. You’d never know when there’s one infecting a community and starting a coven. It’s why they’re all such a cheerful, trusting bunch around here.”
“I’d noticed yeah.” Claire shook her head. “Is it anything we need to worry about?”
“Well, you’re not burning up in the rain so you’re off to a good start.” He shrugged. “You’ll be fine. I’ve done it a million times.”
They walked through the streets away from the port towards the first checkpoint. The city was more of a castle or a fort than a place of residence with overlapping defensive walls and watchtowers, even the canals supplying the factories were watched and guarded. The streets narrow and thin and overlooked by Night Guard armed with bows and water-proof search-lanterns. Refugees from the plague filtering into the city lurked around the streets under the ever vigilant gaze of the Night Guard officers and shielded themselves from the worst of the storm. The checkpoint was a dour and unwelcoming affair of different hurried rituals and a brief exposure of naked flesh to the rain. The Night Guard conducted their rituals in a lifeless unenthusiastic way, going through the day-day motions. The sight reminded her of the eerie nature of the enthralled mind-slaved cultists that had attacked Caelholm. They passed through the checkpoint and into the city major, avoiding the crowded main-streets leading towards the industrial district and headed towards the southern wall. They paused to let a horse-drawn cart by and Claire stared into the rain misting distance and saw the great northern wall that Kriegsfeld was famed for. Built with reinforced structures and parapets lined with sharpened wrought-iron spikes. Claire reasoned they were for use as make-shift stakes. The wall was at least twenty metres tall and made from dark-stone blocks and metal reinforcements. The Great Northern wall effectively sealed off the city of Kriegsfeld and
“You’d be surprised.” A familiar voice called out from beside them. She turned and saw Adrian waving them under the canopy outside a bar. His blond-hair sticking to his face.
“Been a long time.” They exchanged a brief hug and he shook hands with Sevaur. “You forget your rain coat?” She asked with a smile.
The lumberjack shrugged and pushed his hair out of his light-green eyes. His face framed with a thick beard growth since the last time she’d seen him He was wearing a silver-coloured breastplate wrapped with a teal scarf and his legs shielded by a teal threadbare half-cape. She noticed the dents and gashes in his plated-mail chest.
“Guilty as charged. It’s storm season. These things come out of nowhere.” He pointed upwards towards the rolling black rainclouds as lightning flashed in the distance. “Your voyage okay?”
“Nothing exciting. Sevaur gets sea-sick but that’s about it really.”
“No, watching other passengers be sea-sick made me feel off.” Sevaur managed through a mouthful of rain water and dragged his luggage into the shelter, setting it down on the floor.
“I wouldn’t take your eyes off that, not even for a second.” Adrian nodded towards it. “Not around here.”
Claire stared through the grubby windows of the bar watching dour faced citizens and travellers sit around in muted conversation, drowning their sorrows. Several times their glances would pass by her and linger, distrust evident on their miserable faces. The unmistakable pungent stench of hagfish soup and fresh lamprey reaching them even over the sea air as people walked in and out of the bar.
“I’ll walk you through the checkpoints, I live just outside the city limits.” Adrian piped up.
“What checkpoints?” Sevaur queried exchanging a dark look with Claire.
Adrian cracked a faint smile. “They take security against the vampire threat pretty serious around here. Curfews, checkpoints, random inspections. You’d never know when there’s one infecting a community and starting a coven. It’s why they’re all such a cheerful, trusting bunch around here.”
“I’d noticed yeah.” Claire shook her head. “Is it anything we need to worry about?”
“Well, you’re not burning up in the rain so you’re off to a good start.” He shrugged. “You’ll be fine. I’ve done it a million times.”
They walked through the streets away from the port towards the first checkpoint. The city was more of a castle or a fort than a place of residence with overlapping defensive walls and watchtowers, even the canals supplying the factories were watched and guarded. The streets narrow and thin and overlooked by Night Guard armed with bows and water-proof search-lanterns. Refugees from the plague filtering into the city lurked around the streets under the ever vigilant gaze of the Night Guard officers and shielded themselves from the worst of the storm. The checkpoint was a dour and unwelcoming affair of different hurried rituals and a brief exposure of naked flesh to the rain. The Night Guard conducted their rituals in a lifeless unenthusiastic way, going through the day-day motions. The sight reminded her of the eerie nature of the enthralled mind-slaved cultists that had attacked Caelholm. They passed through the checkpoint and into the city major, avoiding the crowded main-streets leading towards the industrial district and headed towards the southern wall. They paused to let a horse-drawn cart by and Claire stared into the rain misting distance and saw the great northern wall that Kriegsfeld was famed for. Built with reinforced structures and parapets lined with sharpened wrought-iron spikes. Claire reasoned they were for use as make-shift stakes. The wall was at least twenty metres tall and made from dark-stone blocks and metal reinforcements. The Great Northern wall effectively sealed off the city of Kriegsfeld and
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