The Journey 27.

Autumn. The Province Of Galmede.

Onboard the Quick Gull, lord Farque looks down over the starboard side at the town the small, sleek looking airship is slowly passing over at a height of about five hundred feet.
Near the helm, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy says "Another dragon coming this way".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head. He's not that concerned about the dragon, which is about the fifth or six so far today, that's come quite close to them.
The beast in question, a red variety, passes about a half a mile to the east of them, as it heads northwards.
It like the other dragons they've see so far today, couldn't care less about them.
The heavily armoured deathlord then steps back from the starboard side rail.
And two of the members of his personal council, Mira Reinholt the mage and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit join him.
A moment later, and Helbe the elven thief suddenly appears out of thin air, onto the deck, next to them.
Pointing southwards, Helbe the elven thief says "They're staging grounds" followed by "All of the larger factions have one on the fringes of the capital, as do a lot of the smaller ones".
As he looks away to the city of Fanile that's just a few miles away, the elven magic user continues with "The other smaller factions have staging grounds in the nearby towns, like the one below us".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, which lies off the coast of the Southlands, who went down to the town they've just passed over, to gather information, then says "Trading vessels and those not in any faction, can moor in any of the airdocks that are actually in the city".
"Any reason why warships and dragons we know are at war with one another, are flying about in fairly close proximity, and aren't attacking each other?" asks Mira Reinholt the mage as he looks towards the large city to the south they're heading towards.
"It's illegal to do so within twelve miles of the capital" says the elven masterthief who is a member of the royal family that rules the principality of Laerel "This part of the province is essentially a free zone, where even those factions who are at war, can come and go without being attacked" adds the elven master assassin, who continues with "Something to do with the number of people living in this part of the province, they don't want the innocent getting caught up in their wars".
From behind the faceplate of his full helm, comes a snort of derision from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Warfare with rules, how droll" dryly says lord Farque with a shake of his full helmed head.
The undead warlord, who was hoping they could of turned off to the west before they came too far south.
Decided to continue onto the capital city of Fanile when it came into view a further twenty five miles or so to the north.
It's a large city, not walled. But extremely spread out. Which is exacerbated by the staging grounds of the various factions that are on the outer fringes of the capital city of the kingdom of Terrindim.
Staging grounds that have barracks on all of them, as well what looks to be a mix of grass, and sand. Even from a few miles away to the north. They can see various warships tethered to the ground on the grassy sections of the staging grounds.
While dragons, are lying about on the sections of white sand across the various staging grounds.
The city proper, is dominated in the middle of it, by what Helbe the elven thief calls the Royal Palace of Terrindim.
The fairly substantial part of the center of the city, that's a mix of towers, broaches, keeps, stands of trees, gardens and streams. That must be nearly three miles wide, and at least two miles in length.
In the very center of which, is a walled of section, with forty foot tall stone walls.
Which the highly talented elven magic calls the real palace of Terrindim. Within which king Crassil, the king of Terrindim lives with members of the royal family.
After following some of the warships of the Salmain faction south, who in turn were following the remnants of a fleet of the Balford faction, who had been defeated in battle by a fleet in the Golmard faction.
They decided, well lord Farque decided to continue on towards the capital, where they can at least pick up more supplies for their long journey westwards.
And also to gather information, to see how things fare further to the west in the kingdom of Terrindim.
And if any of the factions are warring out that way. Not to mention any nobles who might be in war with one another.
As apparently that happens a lot in parts of the kingdom. Wars between nobles, that are totally separate to the disputes and wars between that most unique of political movements, found only here in the kingdom of Terrindim, the factions.
"First thing first when we get into the city" quietly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who continues with "Get supplies, and anything else that might be hard to fucking find in the smaller places out west".
The undead being, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his nation, then adds "And any information that maybe useful to us as we continue westwards".
The elven magic user, the human mage, and the halfling, who is a former air sailor, all nod to that from the lord of the death realm as the Quick Gull picks up pace after an order from lord Farque, as they get closer to the city of Fanile, the capital of the kingdom of Terrindim.
They soon reach the city of Fanile, passing over the fringes on the northeast side of the city.
"That Balford faction" says Mira Reinholt the mage with a nod of his hooded head down at the staging ground on the northeast corner of the city they're passing over.
"Hell, they've got a lot of ships here" says Jarjin Littlefoot the halfling, who is standing on a storage locker next to the starboard rail, so that he can see down to the ground below.
Near the helm, Helbe the elven thief says "We have to keep clear of that palace complex, airships no matter whose, aren't allowed to fly over it" the highly talented elven magic user then adds "Nor dragons too".
Lord Farque nods his full helmed head, then he quietly says in the royal elven language "There's a pair of powerful dragons inside that walled bit of the palace" followed by "I gather they keep the sky above the palace clear".
Lifting his eyebrows in surprise, the young elven noble says in the same language "How powerful?".
"Far more powerful than any of the other dragons I've seen and sensed so far in the kingdom" is the reply of the deathlord of Farque.
"Hell" mutters the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel.
"Stay away form that palace" says Draugadrottin in the ground pixie language as he looks at Narladene the ground pixie who is standing upon the right shoulder of the elven princeling.
"The other dragons we've seen will ignore you for the most part" adds the undead warlord who continues with "But i doubt those two in the palace will".
The naturally magical creature nods her tiny head that she'll keep clear of the Royal Palace of Terrindim.
"Stay well clear of the palace" says lord Farque in the common language to both the captain of the Quick Gull, and the helmsman.
The heavily armoured deathlord points a bit further to the south, but still here on the east side of the city "Head to those airdocks" adds the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier, which means, The Destroyer.
"We'll have to pay a mooring fee" says prince Helbenthril Raendril.
"Great" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"It's not that much, though it is a daily fee" states the elven master assassin who is a member of lord Farque's personal council.
The lord of the death realm grunts, then says "Can't be fucking helped i guess" he continues with "Looks like it's the largest airdocks in the city, so we shouldn't stick out too much".
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head in agreement, then he says "Plenty of foreign ships by the looks of it" followed by "We should blend it well enough".
They put in towards the end of a long straight dock, where they're met by a couple of treasury officials, who thankfully don't ask any questions.
Just ask them to pay the daily fee, which is done by the size and length of an airship.
And since the Quick Gull, which is originally from the Sultanate of Dreese, isn't particularly big, or long. It's classed as a pleasure craft, and they end up paying the second least you pay for a berth in the airdocks of Fanile. Only a ship's boat, or an air dinghy pays less.
The war engineer Tovis wanders off with Mira Reinholt the mage and Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy.
While Beldane the cleric joins lord Farque and Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit. Who the heavily armoured deathlord dryly tells to act like a dwarf who has had his beard cut off in shame.
While Helbe the elven thief goes off and explores the city with just Narladene the ground pixie for company. Though the highly talented elven magic user goes about blurred and shielded.
Which though will keep him hidden from other spellcasters. It won't do squat against a dragon whose interest he might peek.
As he suspects more than a few of them out on the staging grounds that surround the city of Fanile. Will more than likely keep an eye on things inside the city. Which they're not really allowed to fly over. And they're absolutely banned from flying over the Royal Palace of Terrindim.
While the mage Reinholt, the spy Tanith and the young engineer Tovis go off and search for the best place to buy supplies.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque, along with Jarjin Littlefoot, and the cleric Beldane.
Wander the streets of Fanile in the early afternoon on what's a warm autumn day in comparison to recent days here in the province of Galmede.
They're more interested in what's happening here in the capital of the kingdom of Terrindim.
Listening and watching the conversations taking place on the streets, and in the shops, here in the eastern part of the large city.
"Reminds me a bit of Leeabra" quietly says the halfling who is not what he appears to be.
"Though it doesn't have the massive buildings, or the wide avenues found there" continues the former air sailor referring to the capital city of the kingdom of Druvic in the Southlands.
Des'tier nods his full helmed head in agreement, then gestures to a street, not far from the airdocks the Quick Gull is moored at. A street full of taverns, ale houses, wine shops and a few brothels. Always the best places to hear the latest gossip to be found in any city.
"There's a priest of Glaine over there Beldane" quietly says the hobbit, who in actuality is a human, a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of Jarjin Littlefoot.
"Where?" asks Beldane the cleric after a moment of surprise, as that was the last thing he was expecting to hear.
"He just came out of that brothel" dryly says Draugadrottin, who gestures to further along the street as he adds "He's about to turn into that side street".
After a moment of embarrassment, the cleric in the church of Glaine, nods his head, as he spots the priest who is a member of his church, just before he turns into a side street.
"Wonder if there's churches here in the city?" muses the powerful cleric.
"Of your god?" says the undead warlord, who then adds "Probably".
"Can you tell?" asks Beldane, who hails from the kingdom of Nastell in the Southlands.
"Not really" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who continues in a sour tone with "Temples and churches, and places of worship all feel the fucking same to me" he then adds in the same tone "Not nice".
The street is busy, even though it's not yet the middle of the afternoon. All the same, people keep clear of them, with lord Farque out infront.
As heavy armour, particularly a full suit of it. Isn't exactly common in the kingdom of Terrindim. Infact no one wears it. The heaviest armour you'll likely see is a breastplate, or shoulder plates, and then only rarely. Always worn by a noble, never a commoner.
The lord of the death realm leads them into a rather disreputable looking alehouse. As he knows in such a place, you'll likely to find all sorts of information.
When they enter, the proprietor behind the bar shouts "We don't serve their kind in here!".
Beldane the cleric, who thinks the barman is referring to him, looks sharply at lord Farque.
But things are cleared up, when the proprietor of the alehouse adds "No dwarves!".
Behind the faceplate of his full helm, the heavily armoured deathlord faintly grins when he hears Jarjin aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman mutter "What the fuck?" followed by a muttered "I'm a hobbit, not a dwarf you fuckwit".
Though Beldane faintly winces, the undead being quietly says to the halfling who is a former air sailor in the fleet of the Sultan of Dreese "Ignore him" referring to the barman.
"This way" adds the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who has heard a rather interesting conversation coming from a corner of the packed alehouse.
"Here you!" shouts the proprietor, who then adds "Get out you filthy dwarf" followed by "Get back to the northern mountains you thief!".
Though a fair few in the alehouse just plain ignore the antics of the barman, a few others laugh at him, and his vitriol directed at the hobbit who he thinks is a dwarf. As hobbits aren't found here in the kingdom of Terrindim.
While a number of others look like they agree with the proprietor. As they look at Jarjin aka Zubutai Timaginson in disgust, and even worse as he walks by.
The halfling who is a former air sailor, keeps himself close behind the deathlord of Farque. As he thinks it's a rather prudent to stay right behind a large, six foot seven inch tall, heavily armoured individual, who can't be killed, who can kill just about anything and everything on this world, or on any other plane of existence.
As people part out of their way, if they don't lord Farque will just knock them down.
And the proprietor of the alehouse attempts to scramble out from behind the bar. Presumably to get at the hobbit who he thinks is a dwarf, so that he can throw him outside.
The deathlord of Farque stops at a table, and says "Move".
The two men already sitting there, are about to say get lost, when they suddenly feel the temperature drop, infact it's suddenly freezing where they are.
They get up and move after the large, heavily armoured figure, with the massive sword strapped to his back, and rather plain looking mace on his weapon belt, just stares at them.
Lord Farque, Jarjin Littlefoot and Beldane the cleric sit down at the table.
A moment later, and the proprietor of the alehouse bustles over, and says "Here, i said get".
Before he can truly get going, the undead warlord interrupts him by saying "Three ales" followed by "The good stuff in the barrel you've got beneath the counter, not that watered down shit you're serving from the open barrel".
People nearby hear that, and start shouting and berating the proprietor, who at first looks stunned, then guilty as he darts a nervous look around at those who have started yelling at him.
He backs quickly away, and heads back to the bar after he looks at lord Farque, and sees a flash of bright blue light come from the eyes in the eye slot of the full helm, of the large heavily armoured figure staring at him.
"Well, that got rid of him" quietly says Jarjin aka Zubutai the son of Timagin, who then adds in a mutter "The racist fuck" followed by "And I'm not even a dwarf".
While next to him, Beldane the cleric grins as the barman gets back to the counter, with at least half of the packed alehouse, yelling at him for selling watered down ale.
"How did you know he was selling watered down ale?" quietly asks the halfling who is a member of lord Farque's personal council.
"I didn't, i just made it up" is the quiet reply from the lord of the death realm, who shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders as he adds "Seems it was true".
As at the counter, people are yelling and shouting at the proprietor, demanding their coins back.
The hobbit from the western coastal nation of Dreese, is about to ask the lord and ruler of the lands Farque something else, but Draugadrottin quietly tells him "Fucking shut up will you" followed by "I'm trying to listen to something here".
As he pays attention to a conversation at a nearby corner table, here in alehouse in a eastern neighbourhood of the city of Fanile, the capital city of the kingdom of Terrindim . . . . . .