“Not my problem,” the guard said.
“It will be when I tell him you were the reason I was delayed.”
“You do that, and I’ll remove your tongue myself, you fat fuck.”
“That’ll be hard to do when Nabu has you hanging upside down in a dungeon cell. And I’ll be speaking to him before you will. You know this.” Grast’s tone softened as he continued. “Listen, friend, let me share some of this magnificent wine with the both of you, what do you say? I’ve got a few bottles I brought along for my friends in Erst. You’re welcome to have one if it means I can get going quickly.”
“Three.”
“Three?”
“Gimme three bottles, and I’ll let you pass without an inspection.”
“All right, all right.” Grast pretended to sound as if he was upset at being ripped off. I listened with bated breath as he fumbled around in the crate under his seat and pulled out three bottles of his vineyard’s finest wine.
“We’re going to be drinking lords’ wine tonight!” the guard roared triumphantly as he and his friend snatched the bottles from Grast. “No more cheap piss for us. This is the good stuff.”
“Enjoy, lads,” Grast said. “Now, may I pass?”
“Yeah, yeah, go on, get moving.”
Grast cracked his whip, and we kept our weapons in our hands. We were rolling into Erst itself, but we had a long, busy road ahead of us.
“Well played, Grast,” I whispered through a gap in the canvas.
“Glad you think so, Lord Chauzec,” he whispered back, clearly excited. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get you all into the cathedral cellars without incident. Just keep quiet and stay still until we’re in.”
As we slowly made our way, I peered through gaps in the planks to see what was going on outside. The thousands of people chatting, laughing, yelling, and singing created an omnipresent roar, waves of raucous noise crashing ceaselessly against the wagon. We were heading down the high street, a broad cobbled road that should have allowed two wagons to pass side by side. But Grast’s enormous wagon, with its long train of oxen that strained to pull its weight, only barely fit between the cramped taverns and stores lining the street.
Often, Grast had to stop the wagon and wait for the soldiers and guards—dozens of whom seemed to be stationed every few yards along the main strip—to force people to move out of the way.
“I haven’t seen a single effigy of the Lord of Light so far,” Elyse said, fuming. “I didn’t expect to see many, of course, but to not see a single one… And the cathedral bells should have been rung by now to call the faithful to prayer. It’s well past midnight already. Nabu truly has perverted this holy day.”
When we slowly crossed an intersection, Rami suddenly grabbed my sleeve and pulled me over to her side of the wagon.
“Look! Down the street!”
I peered through the gap to where she was pointing. “Elyse, you’d better come have a look at this.”
I moved over, and she leaned toward the hole. As I suspected she would have, she gasped.
“A… a slave market!” She balled her fists and quivered with rage. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. There’s a fucking slave market in Erst Square! On this holy day. A fucking slave market!”
This was the first time I’d heard Elyse curse, so I knew she was beyond furious. I was pretty pissed myself at seeing human beings terrified, half-naked, and in chains, being bought and sold like livestock. I felt an even keener desire to sink my blade into Nabu’s throat and siphon his corrupt soul out of his dying body.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Once we’ve taken care of Nabu and his Resplendent Crusaders, we’ll put a stop to all of this. We’ll ensure this evil is stomped out right away and that those responsible are punished.”
We continued through the town and saw that slave beatings were quite normal and seemingly socially accepted. On top of that, still no effigies or prayer groups; Elyse grew steadily more furious.
After some time, we reached the cathedral. It was by far the biggest structure in town, laden with towers and spires shooting up hundreds of feet into the air. Surrounding the sprawling grounds was a stalwart stone wall around 15 feet high. I noticed only one entrance: the front gate, a set of stout oaken doors manned by a pair of guards. If we could lock the gates from the inside, we’d be able to keep the thousands of guards and soldiers, who were all over the streets of Erst, out of the cathedral while we went about our dirty work.
Grast pulled the wagon to a stop outside the gates, and the guards walked over to speak to him.
“There might be trouble,” Grast whispered through a gap in the canvas. “I’ve never seen these guys before. They’re not the usual guards. Ready your weapons, just in case.”
“Who are you, and why are you bringing this wagon here?” a guard demanded.
“My name is Grast, sir,” Grast answered, keeping his tone respectful, “and I’ve brought a fresh shipment of the finest wine in the whole bishopric for His Holiness, Bishop Nabu. If you’ll ask the Captain of the Cathedral Guard, and tell him my name, I assure you—”
“The old Captain of the Cathedral Guard was fired yesterday,” the man said coldly. “I’m the new captain. Nabu hasn’t said a bloody thing to me about a wagon driver called Grast. We’re under strict instructions from Nabu himself not to open the gate for anyone until morning. You can turn this pile of shit around and piss off.”
“But Nabu himself requested this wine by midnight. I know I’m a little late, but surely—”
“I ordered you to piss off, you cum-gulping churl! If you don’t turn this wagon around right now, you’ll be going back to whatever inbred village you came from without your nose and ears!”
I heard a
