64: City Of Blazing Wealth (Patreon)

Link to the map of the Known World below. The Full map (which this isn't) took me ~100 hrs to make. The city maps avg ~20 hrs. Every major city will have a city map :-)
https://www.patreon.com/posts/78269388

“Of course I know of them!” Vir retorted. Who hadn’t heard of the flying palaces of the gods? Most nations had founded their capitals under them, after all. For auspicious reasons.

He’d known there was one above Daha. Just, Vir never imagined they’d be this impressive. He’d figured that—like Apramor’s fables—people had blown them out of proportion. Nothing that spectacular could possibly exist, could it?

Vir now had his answer. Though the palace hovered high above the city, its great shadow still shielded most of Daha from the sun at this midday hour.

The presence he’d felt earlier lingered for a moment, and then it was gone. Like it’d never existed.

What was that? Vir wondered. Was it just him? Or had something inside the Vimana taken notice of him? The palaces were supposed to be inert, though.

Since it was so high, Vir was hard pressed to make out too many details, other than that it was highly gilded, and that it was several stories tall. In fact, it was much taller than it was wide, with each lower level growing larger and larger.

“What’s in it?” Vir asked.

With his neck craned up at the sky, he missed Param shaking his head.

“No one knows,” the man said. “All Vimana hail from the Age of Gods, and each has defense mechanisms that protect them from anything that ventures too close. Not even the Altani have successfully landed a skyship on one, and if they can’t do it, what chance does Hiranya have? Those defenses spare no one. Not Acira, nor even unarmed balloons.”

Vir had been so preoccupied by the intimidating palace that he’d entirely missed the handful of balloons colored with various faded hues that meandered lazily above the city, far below the Vimana. Pear-shaped, and made of a kind of fabric, Vir saw occasional puffs of fire magic from a tiny wooden basket under each.

“Hot air balloons,” Param volunteered, realizing by now that Vir was either a hermit or a backwater bumpkin. “They are used to keep watch over the city from above. A poor man’s skyship.”

The day was full of surprises for Vir. That now made two new things he’d seen today.

“Do you know what actually happens when they get too close? Like, how are they destroyed, exactly?” he asked.

“It has been many decades since anyone last tried. I can’t recall,” Param said, stroking his beard.

The man fell silent, but then Rayali spoke up. “I have heard tales of a brilliant light that envelops all who venture too near. When the light fades, nothing is left. Nothing but ash.”

Vir made a mental note not to let his curiosity get the better of him. Not unless he wanted to end up fried to a crisp.

He tore his eyes from the magnificent floating palace and looked at the city itself. In just a few moments, he’d almost forgotten about the Vimana entirely, because in front of him was a sight nearly as miraculous.

Just a few paces away, the Warrens abruptly ended, as if Adinat himself had erected a barrier beyond which nothing should exist.

The reality wasn’t too far off—shacks crowded right up to the Grand Moat, a dry moat that stretched to the city’s tall walls.

A moat that was so deep and wide that it dwarfed the tall stone walls, making them look deceptively tiny in comparison.

Spanning four hundred paces across, it was more akin to a valley that ringed the entire city, with Daha sitting upon an island of rock and dirt. The only access to the city was via an absurdly long wooden drawbridge that couldn’t possibly support its own weight. Several large wooden pillars extended to the bottom of the moat to support its weight.

But as the caravan proceeded up to the checkpoint station, Vir noticed dozens—no, hundreds—of D Grade Lighten Load orbs placed at regular intervals, about half of which were active.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Param said as they pulled in to the back of the line awaiting clearance. “But yes, they do actually raise this bridge in times of emergency. Do you see those tall pillars that soar high above the walls? Drawbridge supports.”

Vir saw them. Initially, he’d thought they were fabulously tall lookout towers, but now realized they weren’t. Enormous ropes connected them to the bridge.

“You’ve seen them raise it?” Vir asked. It had been some time since the country was last invaded.

“They test the system regularly. It would be bad if it failed when it was most needed, yes? The bridge extends far above the walls of the city when retracted. Quite the sight. Stick around Daha long enough, and you may even see it!”

Their turn finally arrived, and not a moment too soon. The Vimana’s shadow did not extend past the walls of the city, and Vir was doing everything he could to keep from sweating overly much. Fanning himself did little against the sweltering heat.

“You truly do not do well in the heat, do you?” Param said with a smirk.

“Never did,” Vir answered, hoping his makeup was still intact.

But as bad as his own sweaty situation was, the Dahan guards had it a hundred times worse. Most wore brigandine cuirasses, pauldrons, and steel gauntlets over thick gambeson, all painted in the Hiranyan emerald and gold.

The ones that wielded polearms wore mail hauberks and full helms. They must all have been sweating buckets under that armor.

Vir remained a pace behind Param’s wagon, hoping to blend in with the caravan, but soon realized that was completely unnecessary—he was a part of the caravan.

“Papers?” A bored guard asked, his hand resting on his talwar’s pommel. Vir wondered how much action they really saw per day… Likely not much at all.

Param flashed a bronze badge. “Param’s Pawn Peculiarities, returning from Saran under guard.”

The Hiranyan warden barely even glanced at the badge before waving them by.

The whole inspection was over before Vir could even grow anxious about it all.

The wagons clacked over the wooden slat drawbridge, barely wide enough to admit a single wagon.

Bumpy hesitated, but seeing his fellow Ash’va must have given him courage, and after hesitating for a moment, lived up to his name. Bumpy the Brave put one hoof in front of another and refused to look down into the chasm below.

Vir did the same. He really had to wonder why this moat was as wide as it was. It would have been a monumental undertaking to create, and not even arrows could clear that kind of distance.

Magic, he realized. Maiya had always said that Fire magic had the greatest range of all the affinities. This must have been an anti-mejai defense mechanism.

Magic defense made sense, but what Vir hadn’t expected was the lack of prana here, and it wasn’t just Ash affinity. All affinities were present in similar quantities as Brij.

He’d expected more, but then again, prana densities were said to die off quickly as one traveled away from the Ash Boundary. Hiranya was simply too far to reap from abundant prana.

Guess I’ll need to stay focused on conserving my prana usage, he thought, with some disappointment. He’d been lusting after Blade Projection and other powerful Talents lately.

As they crept closer to the walls, their sheer scale became clear. Built of enormous thick stone at least twenty paces in depth, countless crenelations decorated its ramparts. Vir even saw mounted soldiers patrolling the ramparts, a testament to the structure’s size and durability.

The entrance to Daha was unlike anything Vir had expected. Saran had a set of double portcullis gates that guarded the city, but Daha was the capital. Though the city may have declined, its design and its walls hearkened back to a more prosperous era.

Shivers crept down Vir’s back as the caravan passed through double portcullis gates. Attackers would find themselves in a living nightmare, trapped inside when the gates fell, helpless against arrows rained through the dozens of murder holes from above.

As if that wasn’t enough, the floor was a plate of metal. A false floor that no doubt dropped into some sort of gruesome pit far below.

They crossed through unimpeded, and ran straight into another wall, forcing them to take a sharp turn to the right. The space was so narrow that Param had to manually guide each of his two Ash’va, and Vir could almost touch both walls if he spread his arms out. Those entering from the other side squeezed past, and Vir hoped no Ash’va came, or they’d be stuck in a deadlock.

Looking up, Vir saw archers manning the walls that surrounded them on three sides.

This is a gauntlet of death, he realized. Invaders would be decimated by defending arrow and mejai fire, bunched up and exposed with nowhere to hide.

Twenty paces later, they made another sharp, tight turn to the left, then another immediate left. Vir exhaled when the last right turn put them through double portcullis gates that finally led into the city proper.

“Hate it. Always an irritation, every challing time,” Param complained. “Typical of city builders. Defense first—convenience last. When was the last time this city was besieged, anyway?”

Even Neel didn’t like it, growing agitated on Bumpy’s back.

Looking back, Vir realized the gauntlet prevented any large vehicles from passing through. Param’s wagons weren’t all that wide, and they’d barely fit. Which meant that siege weapons like battering rams likely wouldn’t either. They’d simply get stuck, and then the defenders would pick them off from above. An ingenious tactic to ensure the gates never fell.

If Vir hadn’t just come from the Warrens, he’d call the slums that bordered the entrance to the city squalid. But compared to the slums outside the city, these were markedly better. While dirt and dung littered the streets, the putrid smells were slightly less offensive here, the buildings sturdier.

Still, a slum was a slum. It wasn’t the best look for visitors. Either Hiranya didn’t care about appearances, or they simply couldn’t do anything about it.

“Where are you headed?” Vir asked.

“Upper West Side. ‘Tis where my shop is, and my home. I have enjoyed our time together, Neel. Should you ever need anything, please come find my shop. Param’s Pawn Peculiarities. Simple to remember, no?”

Vir nodded with a smirk. “Quite simple. I’m glad to have journeyed with you as well. It’s rare to find good company.”

“May fate allow our paths to cross again,” Param said, removing his hood and bowing his head. Rayali did the same, and Vir returned the gesture.

“Before I depart, could you tell me where to find the Mercenary’s Brotherhood?” Vir said, “I have some business there.”

“Of course! Simply travel east to the Market plaza and look south. Enormous building. Carved with many sculptures. Very difficult to miss.”

Vir thanked the couple and headed off on his own. It was time for him to register as a mercenary. It was time to do some exploring.

Art for Daha Warrens:

Daha Slums: