Meeting the Parents
As the party reaches the Volmyr gates just after midday, the quiet of the wilderness is long past as dozens of people from all walks of life litter the outside of the city walls, eager to gain entry. A large building is built onto the outside of the walls, near the entrance, with a walkway over the top of the portcullis that reaches fifty feet tall before connecting to another similar structure on the other side. Ten guards walk the ground, checking citizen's belongings and their reasons for entering. Another ten or so guards are stationed on the walkway above, crossbows at the ready, chatting comfortably with each other, giving the impression that Volmyr is a safe place since they aren't on edge.
"Wow." Is all Meetle can muster, staring at the imposing wall.
"I consider this the most significant place in the entirety of Varenheim, let alone the Sovereignty." Grensyl's mouth is agape in awe. Despite seeing this sight many times, it is always as impressive as the last.
Even Kyra is impressed as her eyes widen, staring up at the seemingly never-ending walls, looking as if they pierce the clouds.
An Elven city guard walks over to the party wearing an assortment of chainmail and plate armour. The armour is well-made, some of the finest crafted, with the Country's emblem of two crossed swords with a crown above crafted into the pauldron on one shoulder. Speckles of Coldstone are embedded through the armour to give the Volmyrian guards a more distinctive look compared to the rest of the Sovereignty.
"Afternoon. What's the purpose of the visit?" The Elven guard calmly yet authoritatively questions the party.
"Bandit's attacked, got some injured on board, so some R&R is much needed." Grensyl replies.
"Also, visiting family!" Meetle cheerily adds as he shows his missing arm to the guard.
The guard walks to the back of the carriage as another walks over, keeping a close eye on the front, this one a Half-Orc, his skin a vibrant green. The elven guard sees Kyra sitting up with bandages covering her arm and torso. The guard instructs the party that the closed baskets and boxes must be opened and inspected before allowing entry. So Garrick takes the lead to comply with the guard. After ten minutes, the inspection is finished, satisfying the guard's needs.
"You're all good to go. Apologies for taking up your time. Enjoy your stay in Volmyr." The elven guard earnestly says.
"That's quite alright, safety first!" Meetle happily says to the guard.
"Fancy armour, very sturdy. If you used high-tier magic, the armour would be unscathed, but the user inside would be turned into pulp. Magic is undeniable in this world; It's why mages control the highest positions of power." Jarathus says, standing in front of Garrick, who ignores his words and walks through him as Jarathus fades away with the wind again.
Walking toward the portcullis, some guards step out of the building on the left, which would be their outpost for the guards on duty, and on the right are stables with horses of many varieties, but the most common is the Sovereign Stallion, a powerful horse bred purely for fast, sustained travel by the military and guards. An argument ensues between some guards and a dwarf man and woman. Garrick listens in as they walk past.
"Banned list? I've never even been here before! Recheck it! Garz Ironvalley!!" The man shouts, irate.
"Where do we go now? There's nowhere close to rest" The woman pleads.
"There's refuge shelters outside the city you can stay in for the night, but you two won't be getting in." the human guard responds.
The party eventually travels too far past to hear them.
The walls are colossal, but their true size becomes apparent when walking through the tunnel into the city lit by torches and the glow itself of the Coldstone, hundreds of feet long, that a civilisation could live inside them. Like a conveyor belt, many citizens are entering and leaving, showing how much of a hub this port city is. As they reach the other end, the noise becomes deafening as their ears ring before briefly settling as they quickly adjust.
"I need to go to my parent's home; I was expected a week ago. They'll be worried sick. You're more than welcome to accompany me. They have plenty of rooms for you all." Meetle says.
"If I could run away, I would." Kyra sarcastically says.
"I'll deal with the guild tomorrow. I'll need to be there to explain what happened to you anyway." Garrick chimes in.
"Nonsense, I'll tell them. They can be very protective, so I'll make sure they know you helped me. I mean, without you, I'd be dead." Meetle replies.
"My job is done here, friends. I'm heading to the Joyful Fawn for a brew tonight and will most likely head back out in a couple of days." Grensyl replies with a tinge of sorrow in his voice. Although short, the friendship grows fast in the party.
"Are you sure? Stay the night and get some good food. It's the least we can do!" Meetle tries persuading Grensyl but to no avail.
"Don't be a stranger, Grensyl. I appreciate everything you've done for us. I won't forget it. I'll buy you a round If I see you again." Garrick sadly replies but with respect to Grensyl's decision.
"I'll hold you to that. Free drink is never passed up!" Grensyl chuckles as he shakes Garrick's hand, pulling him close and whispering so no other can hear him. "Keep breathing, Garrick. I saw you battling demons on the plateau. You're doing great; I know you have it in you to control what has happened to you. You always have I, Grensyl Gheradon, as a friend." With a warm smile, Grensyl pats Garrick on the shoulder, who looks stunned but appreciates the trust Grensyl has in him.
"You two gonna kiss? We got places to be, Garrick." Kyra shouts as Garrick and Grensyl move away from each other.
"I preferred you unconscious. Glad I got my hit in when I did." Garrick sarcastically says.
"You son of a-, I knew it!" Kyra shouts back.
Grensyl takes this moment to slowly take his leave as he waves to MEetle, who happily waves back, tears welling in his eyes.
"Bye, Grensyl!!" Meetle ecstatically shouts.
The party heads onward towards the upper district. The hubbub of the city is evident even with the fading sun: people speaking, stalls set up with owners trying to entice customers, machinery whirring as it kicks up dust and many other happenings. It would take weeks for someone to get used to this city's ever-sprawling layout. Thankfully, however, signposts are dotted around to help even the newest of guests, as Meetlemire, despite being the most accustomed to Volmyr as his parents live here, has yet to step foot in here for many years.
With little difficulty, the party reaches the entrance to the upper district. Guards are seen patrolling much more frequently than in the more 'lower' class area. Large ornate bushes are trimmed into various animals and creatures, with the bright grey cobblestone road kept clean. More than a few looks turn the party's way as they, in their current condition, look like they made a wrong turn heading for the slums, but Meetle seems oblivious as he progresses.
"Your parents live here?!" Kyra shouts, confused.
"Yeah, this has thrown me a bit, Meetle. I didn't expect this." Garrick adds.
Meetle laughs nervously. "Well, They did a lot of work for the Magic Academy."
"Guess we lucked out on this gnome having a ritzy family." Kyra says.
They travel farther up the road for what seems like hours until they reach a large mansion with a hundred feet of garden space until they even get to the front door.
"Meetle's been holding out on us, Garrick. This isn't rich, this is fuck you money he's part of." Kyra says with surprise.
"It isn't my money, Kyra! I made it clear to them that I wanted to make a life for myself without their help. I wanted them to know I was capable." Meetle replies, slightly annoyed with Kyra's statement.
They reach near the door, where the cobbled path ends and a smooth stone starts. Meetle stops the carriage and gets down. Kyra winces but gets out and follows Meetle, with Garrick following suit. The front doors stand tall, ten feet tall, dwarfing the party, especially Meetle, who only stands around four feet in height. Meetle presses a small button that is the perfect height for him as a jingle echoes through the home.
With a 'click', the front door is unlocked as it swings open. Garrick and Kyra have their eyes down, ready to greet Meetle's parents, but are met by a pair of legs instead. Quickly readjusting their gaze, they are met by two older Elves with fancy, gold-embroidered robes. The man has a pointed face and a nose that is slightly turned up, giving off the impression of 'elitism'. His long white hair flows to his chest, and his beard goes even further, way down to his knees. It is neatly maintained and has a ribbon keeping it together. The woman's face is similar to the man's that, too, gives off the 'elitism' Garrick and Kyra would expect. The Elven woman has long brown hair with white streaks that reach her mid back, but very curly, if straight, would no doubt touch the floor.
"This is my parents, guys! Meet-" Meetle begins talking, but his voice is drowned out by another, screaming with furious intent.
"LILLIAN AND ARAVAL!!" A disembodied voice shouts. Jarathus, who materialises next to Garrick.
-RUNESPEAK-
The mind-numbing cacophony of anguish known as Runespeak fills Garrick's mind.
"Lillian and Araval Teldalor!" Meetle smiles at the party before his face turns to horror. Garrick's runes shine bright red as a whirlwind of force picks up violently, unleashing a glacial wall, much like from the cave used against the ogres, from his being, with Kyra, Meetle and his parents, Lillian and Araval in the firing line.
End Chapter