Chapter 41: Esulmor Gate (Patreon)

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Chapter 41: Esulmor Gate - link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/103923894


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Chapter 41: Esulmor Gate

Elias Hakhe had a somewhat routine day at the Southeastern Gate, also known as the Esulmor Gate. The road from the city led, among other places, to the Esulmor Forest, where the mossbears lived, dangerous beasts that a man like him wanted nothing to do with. Fortunately, they had stayed in their forest so far. The only ones who had ventured near the walls, despite the presence of the Labyrinth, were the packs of Iron-Fanged Wolves now and then, disturbing the otherwise calm flow at the gate.

Not today, though.

Today seemed to be one of those exceptionally uneventful days. Only a scant two dozen people had passed through the gate since early morning. 

‘Maybe something happened in Esulmor? Was it mating season already?’

It wouldn’t be the first time the beast’s roar from the forest had deterred people from traveling further west out of Granhill to Castiana. Let alone someone taking it down the Old Road.

‘A damn dangerous venture under normal circumstances that only a fool like old Scoresby would take,’ Elias thought to himself, scanning the horizon for the said merchant. The man should be back by now, but the road was as deserted as the way it had been since that moss-ridden shithole had expanded.

Despite the New Road, a longer but safer route that went further south around that forest, the Southeastern Gate remained one of the least used in Castiana. There was simply something haunting about the sight of Esulmor, no matter how far one traveled from it.

Not that Elias had ever traveled the road himself. He was a born Castianian and never saw a reason to leave the city. All that was just bits and pieces he picked up from those who did - like old Scoresby.

‘Seriously, where the fuck is he?’

While Elias Hakhe was glad to be stationed at the Esulmor Gate: no hustle and bustle, no dealing with angry merchants from dawn to dusk, he couldn’t help worrying about the old man.

Scoresby wasn’t like those bastards reluctant to let go of a single copper, ever complaining about the state of the roads and always furious when they had to pay the merchants’ entrance fee to the city, a fee which was one of the lowest in the Empire. If it were up to him . . .

“Elias?!” his fellow gate guard, a Guardswoman, a subordinate, a friend, and occasionally more than that shouted his name for the umpteenth time, only now getting through to him. Not the first time this had happened. He just tended to get lost in thought, while she tended to be a little too chatty.

“Yes, Brynn?” he asked, unperturbed, after brushing himself off.

“Ah, so you’re finally listening. Good.” 

“You were saying?”

She scoffed. “I was guessing what bullshit you were thinking so hard about. That blasted forest again? I hope it wasn’t Loreen? Maybe you were about . . . me?”

“The first.”

“Thought so,” Brynn grumbled, a little disappointed. “Why bother with the place, though? It’s not like you were planning on going there, is it? I’m telling you, I’d shit my pants if I had to.”

‘Me too,’ Elias thought, smirking in disbelief at the gal the old man had to have. “Maybe that’s why the Captain insists we keep spare uniforms in the gatehouse.”

“Asshole!” Brynn growled, but stopped short. “You think she’d . . . you think send us out there on patrol?”

“What? Traiana’s tits, no! We’re city guards, not an army to deal with the Wilds. Why would you think that?”

“You, you fucking dickhead,” she snapped at him.

A little lost as to what she meant, a lame remark about their night together two days ago came to his mind. Knowing her, however, he kept it to himself. As with the gate, Elias liked peace in his personal life, too. 

“Eyes on the road, Brynn.”

“Seriously, sometimes . . . whatever. Are you going to Drunken Filly tonight? I hear there’s gonna be a new bard. Some guy from the western parts of the Empire.”

Elias sighed to himself. He couldn’t care less about some snotty brat who thought he could impress the locals. Especially not when they had work to do.

“Heads up, Brynn! We have an arrival.”

The weight of his voice made her jump to attention, spear held exemplary along her body, eyes fixed forward. But then she narrowed her eyes, searching for the said arrival. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? They’re at least an hour away. Besides, that should be Scoresby - not some stuck-up lady.”

Elias paused, looking further up the road. And sure enough, there in the far distance, he could finally see the familiar wagon. A weight lifted from his shoulders. That the old guy was fine meant less hassle for him: no explaining to Marlen that her husband hadn’t returned, no filing paperwork for a missing person’s report, and half a dozen more papers.

“No, I meant the rider,” Elias said with a stifled chuckle of relief, nodding to his left, where a man on a scalehoof was riding across the plains. Some bastards who knew their way around Castiana avoided the queues at the other gates, especially those neighboring this Esulmor one, the East and Southwest Gates, by getting off the roads and cutting across the grasslands.

“Oh, that dickhead,” Brynn grumbled, no less thrilled than he was. Riding through the tall grass like that, one could run into a pack of Iron-Fang Wolves waiting for their prey in an ambush. There were three types of these queue cutters: those with no brains, those with balls, and those with sigils, each spelling nuisance and trouble.

Standing at attention, her eyes on the rider, just like his, Brynn allowed herself a brief frown at Elias. “We’re so not done yet.” 

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“Am I seeing right?” Brynn asked, staring at the oncoming wagon the way he did. There was nothing wrong with the wagon itself, nor with the scalehoofs pulling it - at least at first glance. While more thorough inspection was called for, they seemed fine. But . . . 

“I see the half-Terr gal too,” Elias said with a sigh. “Guess we are in for some heavy paperwork.”

“You can’t be serious. Paperwork? That’s what you care about? What if Scoresby found himself a . . . wait, you think she’s a refugee? But she’d have to go through Granhill, right? They’d process her there.”

“Hope you’re right. But knowing the old man . . . ”

“ . . . knowing him, what?” Brynn snapped as Elias tailed off, hoping he was wrong. 

“Well, did you know that in his heydays, he used to smuggle slaves out of Arid?”


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Author’s note: I hope you didn't mind the different POV. Although, while I don't think it's necessary, if you'd like a clearer indication that this is not a chapter written from Korra's POV, let me know in the comments below.

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