Chapter 44: Gatehouse (Patreon)

Author’s note: Hey guys

Thanks again to everyone for participating in the poll. The results were clear and pretty tight at the same time. I would especially like to thank Zerith and Ronny Cook for “brainstorming” the title with me. And the result? After much deliberation, I still haven't gotten around to it. At least not completely. Lament of.... : Slave's Wail

As you can see I've decided on the title of the first book/arc and the format of the title of the whole story, I'm just struggling to determine whose lament it is. As it was pointed out to me, and it's undeniably true, for new readers the title Lament of Korra could easily be confused with The Legend of Korra - they might expect fan fiction of the TV show.

So once again, and hopefully for the last time as far as the title of the book is concerned, I would like to borrow your wits and ask you if you have any ideas for a word or two that might capture Korra. I'd prefer one word, but beggars can't be choosers.

Lament of the Earthling doesn't particularly strike me as the right fit, though. Maybe, Lament of Florist - I intend to focus on this aspect of Korra a little more, after all. Last time Nicolae suggested Forged by Lost Pasts, so something along those lines? Or you can convince me that Lament of Korra isn't so bad after all.

If you can take the time to give it some thought I'd really appreciate it. 

Either way, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 44: Gatehouse - link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/104157930


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Chapter 44: Gatehouse

‘So, this is Castiana?’

Definitely not what I expected. From a distance, the city looked as if someone had placed a flat hexagon badge in the landscape. However, the street stretching ahead of me in a straight line through the Castiana was anything but one identical building standing next to another. Whoever had a hand in designing the general shape and layout of the city certainly eased the reins when it came to the construction of the buildings within it.

The wide cobbled street was flanked on both sides by a mixture of buildings of all shapes; some were timber-framed, some made from stone, and others out of brick from the ground floor to the third - not any higher, though. Yet it was not the sight of the street that took my breath away and made me wince in pain.

It was the noise.

So many people were down on the street, busy with whatever errands they had, their chattering and bartering mingled with the clatter of hooves as scalehoof-drawn carts and carriages made their way through, so overwhelmingly loud that I had to press my ears to my head. Annoyingly, it didn’t help nearly as much as I’d hoped, forcing a pained whimper from my lips.

“Everything all right, ma’am?”

“N-no,” I whined in earnest, cursing my sail-like ears.

“Born and bred out of the city, huh? This way, please,” Sergeant Hakhe said after catching on to my little plight, gesturing to the building on his right just outside the gate, the only structure stuck to the walls, as far as I could see. “It’s much quieter inside.”

With the urge to correct him on the tip of my tongue - I wasn’t some backwater country girl, nor some wild beast that grew up in the forest - I managed to wisely keep my mouth shut and instead, despite all the terrible memories of the last building I was in, I hurried inside. 

Well . . . much to his credit and my relief, the gate guard, Sergeant Hakhe, didn’t lie.

Even with the door wide open out onto the street, the noise inside got a whole lot more bearable. 

“This way, please,” the man said as he walked in behind me, gesturing to the hallway leading further into the building. But instead of following his own instructions, he stopped at the stairs. “One moment, ma’am.”

Fearing he might go get a new collar to put around my neck, I watched him sharp-eyed as he walked to the railing, leaned over it, and shouted up, “Hey, Zarth. Go help Brynn. I have some paperwork to do.”

“Are you serious, Sarge? I was just about to . . . Oh, I see, paperwork,” said the man appearing on the stairs wearing nothing but gray trousers, winking knowingly at Hakhe. I’d have to be dumb not to get what he was hinting at, but while I only dared to glare at the half-naked man, the sergeant’s anger made all my hair bristle. “Corporal! You’re supposed to be at the ready! Not act like you’re home.”

“And I am - ready. Look, Sarge,” the man said without missing a beat, and over-knee leather boots appeared out of nowhere on his feet, along with a blue jacket atop a gray shirt.

‘Damn . . . ’

Even though I knew about the existence of spatial tools, I couldn’t help but stare open-mouthed. In a heartbeat, the man was in full uniform, and all he had to do was straighten it out a bit. My lack of any clothes aside, at the thought of how much time I would have saved back on Earth by having one of those, a pang of envy struck my heart.

“You know exactly what I meant, Corporal. One more time and . . . ”

“I know; you’ll put me on the report, Sarge. Speaking of,” he said, eyeing me from the tip of my antlers to my toes. “I wouldn’t mind making this one instead of you.”

“Then surely you wouldn’t mind, Corporal, if I made that report on your performance right now.”

The man grinned. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, Sarge. That’s just more paperwork. BUT . . . I bet Brynn feels lonely without you there.”

With that, the man, a Guardsman with 122 sigils engraved in his array, rushed out of the gatehouse, leaving me there with a clearly worn-down Sergeant Hakhe.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” he said after heaving a sigh, gesturing to a nearby door. “Shall we?”

‘Well . . . ?’

Honestly, I’d rather follow in that corporal’s footsteps than go in there, but doing so wouldn’t get me anywhere.

And so, quite reluctantly, I calmed my fears using the [Indomitable Will] and walked into a rather small room with Sergeant Hakhe on my heels. It wasn’t as cramped as the cells in the cellar by any means, yet being inside gave me chills, and I almost whimpered when he closed the door behind us.

I was trapped again.

“Please, sit down, ma’am,” Hakhe said, pointing to a chair across from the desk as he sat down at the table himself and pulled a pen and paper from the drawer.

After a moment’s hesitation and some scowling from him, I tried to sit in the chair, but what followed was quite a rather awkward attempt followed by a pained hiss. Not only had I forgotten about my bruised ass, but it was the first time in a year and a half that I had gotten to use this piece of furniture, the first time ever I had sat on one with my wings and tail, albeit pressed against my body. Sure, one could argue that I had already sat in the seat of Scoresby’s wagon, but that just wasn’t the same. 

“There’s a stool over there in the corner, if you prefer.” 

A little pissed that he didn’t tell me sooner, but mostly embarrassed as it just brought to mind that I had bared my chest at him just a few moments ago, I immediately switched the stool for the chair.

“So,” Sergeant Hakhe said after patiently waiting for me to find the least painful position on the seat. “Your name, then, is Korra Grey, ma’am?”

“Y-yeah . . . I mean, yes. Korra Grey, that’s me.”

‘Oh, for f . . . shit’s sake, shut up already, or he’ll think it’s a made-up name!’

“Alright. Stop me if I get something wrong: female, half-Terr’den, mixed race, late twenties, Array of Slave, ninety-seven sigils . . . ”

As he went on describing my appearance and how Scoresby found me while writing everything down, all I did was nod even though technically I wasn’t the half-Terr’den everyone thought I was. Even if it was a lie, I figured it was better than them seeing me as the freak I actually was.

“Before I send this off, I must ask, again, what is your purpose in visiting Castiana?”

‘So I don’t end up a beast.’ 

Of course, I didn’t tell him that. After talking my future over with Scoresby during the ride here, I found that there seemed to be only one good answer to that question. 

“I . . . I want to live here.”

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