Finally, he came to the bridge, the only way to cross the Furnier River within the city. Each end of the bridge was guarded by a squadron of the city guard, sheltered in small guard houses on the right side of the bridge. The guard houses were three stories tall, with a flat roof to post archers on in the event the bridge came under attack. They had been added before Relam was born, in the early days of his father’s reign. River pirates had made a habit of robbing businesses in the area with hit and run raids in the past, running their boats up beside the bridge, darting ashore, and then racing downriver with whatever loot they had managed to capture. After the guard towers had been added, two boats of river pirates had tried to repeat their past success. One successfully moored to the bridge, but its men were shot down by archers before they could get to land. The other boat had started to come in for a raid, seen the guard houses, and fled down river. They were picked up by the harbor patrol and imprisoned for past crimes.
The guards gave Relam no trouble though as he stepped onto the bridge and began the shallow yet long climb to the center of the river. The bridge was over a hundred meters long, and the shallow arch allowed most ships to pass under it without a problem. But, every now and then, a larger ship needed to pass upriver. To solve this issue the third and fourth guard towers had been constructed, standing upright in the middle of the river, on the south side of the bridge.
The very center of the stone bridge was composed of wooden planks held up by thick tarred ropes. In the event of an invasion, the center of the bridge could be removed, leaving enemy armies with no way across the river. But this was an impractical solution for allowing ships to pass, so the ropes had been wound about a windlass. This allowed the guards in the towers to lift the center sections of the bridge and allow larger ships through if needed. Once the ship was past, the wooden planks could be lowered again and the bridge would be complete once more.
This morning though there were no large ships plying the river and the bridge was in place as usual. Four guards were standing at the center of the bridge, two looking downriver, two looking upriver, watching for approaching ships. They did not even look up as Relam passed, merely carrying on their watch, talking quietly to each other to stave off boredom.
After several minutes, Relam reached the far end of the bridge and found himself on the wide road that ran to the west gate of Etares, still far off in the distance. The west side of the capital was not as well organized or wealthy as the east. Here, the buildings seemed to lean over the road as though in danger of collapsing and the cobbles were dirty and worn smooth by the passage of many hundreds of years. Some were cracked and broken, revealing the earth beneath.
It had been many years since Relam had ventured to this side of the river. He had not remembered how different it was from the glittering, well organized eastern section of the city. Of course, these were poorer neighborhoods, and the twisting confused streets facilitated a serious problem with crime. Even on the main road, Relam felt exposed and at risk. He quickened his pace accordingly, trying not to turn and look at every flicker of movement in the numerous alleyways he passed.
As he continued walking though, Relam did look around more. He was naturally curious, and this was a whole new part of the capital to explore, to understand. A whole separate world that he would one day be king of. And the more he looked, the more disturbed he was. Here, the houses were ramshackle, on the verge of falling down. The streets were narrow and dirty, strewn with rubbish and covered in filth. And the streets were alive with shadowy figures, darting from alley to alley, but never venturing onto the wide main road.
Ten minutes of fast walking later, Relam reached the west gate, where his hundred cavalry men were gathered. Every horse was saddled and burdened with equipment, and the men were gathered in their ten-man squadrons, talking quietly. Right by the gate was the normal contingent of city guards, watching a riderless horse that was roped to a post just inside the wall.
“Your highness!” the leader of the city guard called as he approached. “Welcome. Everything has been prepared according to your instructions.”
“Thank you, corporal. I take it this is to be my horse?”
The corporal nodded. “Yes, your highness. This is Buck.”
Relam’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Buck?” he asked in disbelief.
“Don’t worry your highness,” the corporal said, grinning. “He hasn’t thrown anyone off in years. He’s mostly over that now, aren’t you Buck?” he slapped the horse’s flank affectionately and Buck snorted in reply, shaking his pale mane.
Relam eyed the white horse doubtfully. “If you say so,” he said finally. “I’ll just load up and then we’ll get on our way, corporal.”
“Fair enough,” the soldier replied, hitching up his sword belt. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need, your highness.”
The corporal wandered back to where his men were standing by the gate, leaning on their spears. Relam meanwhile went to tie his pack on behind the saddle when a familiar voice stopped him.
“It’d be better to empty the pack and put everything in the saddlebags.”
Relam turned and saw Oreius standing against the wall, a dappled gray standing beside him, searching for grass amongst the cobbles. “Really?”
“Yes,” Oreius grunted. “Never
