Bridgetown

So many people.

I never thought that there would be this many people in one place. I had been told that cities like Bridgetown were filled with crowds, but I never imagined that it would be anything like what I saw when I entered the city. A seemingly endless river of people flowed in two separate directions down the main thoroughfare of the bustling city. I did my best to flow with it, being bumped and pushed by the current of shifting bodies as I made my way towards my destination. The roads were packed with people from all walks of life and from every corner of the Kingdom of Ferandris. Richly dressed nobles walked in groups laughing loudly. Mothers held tightly to their children making sure they were not swept away in the tide. Off duty soldiers jeered one at another causing a backup in the steady flow of foot traffic. And so many more. I watched it all with childlike awe as I was herded with the crowds deeper into the city.

I grew up in a small town, west of Ildroxin. One would think that growing up in eyesight of the capital of Ferandris I would have been at least somewhat used to crowds. I was not. Despite our close proximity it was not a common occurrence for my family to travel to the capital. I had only made the trip a handful of times with my grandfather and even then, we had a tendency to stick to the less crowded portions of the capital. Those experiences had been nothing like Bridgetown. The amount of people here, in comparison to Ildroxin, was multiple times greater. 

I pushed through the crowds. The cobbled stone street sloped down giving me an open view of the City of Bridgetown and the sea beyond. I had never seen the Endless Sea before. The vast expanse of seemingly endless water glistened beneath the rays of the sun. Between the sea and the eastern edge of the city sat my main destination. The Gathering Field, the stretch of open plain was dotted with thousands of tents, each brightly colored. It gave the landscape a look of a field of wildflowers. Once every three years for the past couple of hundred years the Gathering has occurred. It brought tens of thousands of treasure hunters and adventurers to brave the Land Beyond. And here they all waited between the city and the sea.

Before I could join there was somewhere else I had to go. I had to find my oldest friend who had made this city his home over the past three years. His letter said to meet him at a tavern called the Ogre's Chamber Pot, located somewhere several blocks away from the main road in the midst of the more questionable portions of the city. 

I left the crowds of the main road, turning down a side street. It was still crowded, but not a bustling jarring mess like before. I have always been beyond uncomfortable in large crowds. Which for where I grew up equaled maybe around twenty or more people. The town where I was born and raised had little more than one hundred people in total. Going from that to more than one hundred people within my immediate vicinity was overwhelming on my psyche. 

I took the opportunity given by the thinning crowds and breathed in a long steady breath. I had happened to turn down one of the many shopping streets that were scattered around the city during the season of the Gathering. What were usually empty streets were cleared of their trash and debris and are lined with stalls selling anything from snacks and toys to armor and weapons and everything in between. 

"Best arms and weapons this side of Ildroxin and for the best prices!"

"Cold Beer!"

"We have nice and warm blankets, only slightly used!"

Every stall had a person standing out and barking their wares. They held out examples of the products practically shoving them in my face as I walked past. I dodged my way through the throng of shoppers farther down the street beyond the hectic hullabaloo of the stalls. The farther I got from the main thoroughfare the more the streets became piled with trash and less piled with people. The soon the only persons were hidden within the piles of trash. I walked past several drunks or spice heads, still under the effects of their binger the night before. Despite the trash and half dead addicts, I started to feel at ease. This to me was better than the crowds. Even with the smells.

Away from all the crowds I was able to finally able to appreciate the city for what it was. Despite the trash and mess, the city was beautiful. The buildings were a mix match of stone bricks and plaster. The clay shingles were a dark red, making the city look like a red sea next to the blue of the Endless Sea. Bridgetown was far from the architectural glory of the capital, but it held its own charm. It reminded me of the architecture of the town I came from, just on a far greater and grander scale. Many of the houses had flowers in the windows and bright colored banners hanging in honor of their favorite Bridge Legions. Giving the city a celebration feel with the array of colors that contrasted against the drab stone and plaster.

The Ogre's Chamber Pot was easy to locate. Set in the middle of an intersection of several streets and surrounded by no other buildings sat the old creaky house. Several shingles were missing from the partially bowed in roof. And that was the best of it. I could count on one hand how many of the windows were not broken. What paint was left on the walls was peeling off in long strips covering a ground like bark peeled from the trunk of a tree. The large front porch had lost its supports and were held up by makeshift columns made of mostly cobblestones pulled from the sidewalks surrounding the building. The porch itself was piled with broken tables, barstools, and chairs. The cleanest and most well-kept object on the building's grounds was the sign that swung slightly in the light breeze featuring a rather obscene visage of an overly stylized ogre defecating into a wooden mug. 

I stepped over a snoring drunk on the porch and pushed open the door to the Ogre's Chamber Pot. The interior was nearly the same as the exterior. Save some burn marks up the paintless walls in more than several places. The sunlight shining through the dirty broken windows revealed that the tables and chairs were in disarray and scattered around the room amongst the bodies of the bar's patrons from the night before, some of which were snoring loudly. The smell left a lot to be desired. The strong smells of stale ale, burnt food, and vomit permeated the room. Behind the bar a middle-aged balding man stood wiping a mug with an obviously dirty and stained towel. 

I stepped over a patron and up to the bar, "Excuse me, sir," I said, being careful not to peak too loudly lest I awaken any of the sleepers.

The man grunted. He was repulsive. His teeth were brown and rotted. Even a few feet away I could smell the foulness of his breath. What little hair was on his head was greasy and unkempt. His apron was dirty and stained with years' worth ale, grease, and what I suspected was probably blood. "We ain't open yet," he said, voice sluggish and gravelly.

"I'm looking for a man named Sal," I said, "He's tall and skinny with very short hair." I had scanned the room when I entered and had not seen my friend amongst its passed-out patrons.

The bartender eyed me from beneath his sagging eyelids, "Are you that friend he mentioned?"

I nodded, assuming.

"Tren!" the man yelled.

A small voice responded from another room, "What?"

"Go wake up yer sister and tell her fella his friend is 'ere," several of the sleeping patrons groaned as he bellowed.

"What?" came the response.

"Go and tell yer sister's fella his friend is 'ere," the burly man shouted again, resulting in more groans.

This time there was no answer. But after a few seconds a door behind the bar slammed open. A boy a few years younger than me walked in his arms he carried a broken chair which had been hastily repaired with strips of wood and lathered with a tar like substance. 

"Whatcha want?" the boy said.

The bartender sighed, which came out closer to a growl, "Go get yer sister's fella."

"Why don't you do it?"

"Because I told you to."

"Why don't he do it?" the boy said, pointed a scrawny finger at me.

"Just do it!" the bartender said, following up his statement with a swift kick to the boy's rear.

The boy scampered away, muttering.

"It will be a moment," the man "smiled", showing off his rotting teeth.

I thanked him and stood in awkward silence as the bartender wiped stale ale from the surface of the bar. The only sounds I could hear were the quiet snores of the sleeping men and the gentle slopping of the bartender's wet rag. Just as it started to become too uncomfortable, footsteps sounded on the stairs to the floor above. 

What I saw coming down the stairs was all too familiar to me. Stumbling down the stairs from the second floor was tall man with a long neck, his head nearly brushing against the doorframe. His hair was sheered down to the scalp, leaving only the short stubble of a receding hairline. He would have been an imposing figure if it were not for his physical build. He was built like a tree, or rather a sapling. His long arms and legs barely filled his clothes. The man always reminded me of a withering corpse. Which had come to our advantage growing up. The pranks we pulled off during the Hallows Festivals were a talk of the town for years. All it took was some white paint and good timing and we were rolling on the floor with laughter. 

Sal Treatwell stepped down the stairs, pack slung over his back and still buckling his belt around his waist. As we made eye contact with each other we both smiled, "Jex!" Sal exclaimed, prompting curses from the no longer sleeping patrons. Sal grimaced and whispered 'Sorry'. He turned around to the pretty blonde girl who was following down the stairway. They embraced with a kiss and whispered a few words to each other. I could not hear what they said, nor was it my place to know what they said. They kissed once more before Sal turned and tiptoed his way around the drunkards covering the floor. He gave a mock salute to the bartender, whose response was a grunt, and joined me out on the porch, closing the door behind him.

"Jex! I knew you would make it!" my friend said, embracing me in a hug. His boney long arms enveloping me. Sal's arms were always uncomfortable.

"I told you I would," I said, pushing out of the hug. Sal was a year older than me and close to a foot taller.

Sal laughed, slapping me on the shoulder, "You hungry? I know of a place that makes amazing egg wraps. Come on."

We left the Ogre's Chamber Pot and made our way back to the main thoroughfare, laughing and talking the whole way. "How does it feel to finally be off the farm and in the big city?" Sal asked me as we rounded a corner and were swept back into the stream of moving people.

I took a deep breath of city air and resisted the urge to gag. The air was stale and smelled of people, with a hint of something rotting in a nearby alleyway. "I don't like it," I said.

Sal laughed heartily, which echoed off the surrounding buildings, "It will grow on you," he said.

It did not matter how I felt, this city was my home now. It became my new home the moment I signed over my family's farm to one of the local farmers back in my hometown. Though, I did spend the past two years working as a farmhand before coming here. It had been just a temporary job for me to by my time before the Gathering began. Unfortunately, I was going to have to get used to the massive amounts of people and the bad smells whether I liked them or not. I also had my personal vendetta to think about and with Bridgetown being the location of the Gathering every three years there was nowhere better for me to stay. Given if I even survived that long.

"You brought the money, right?" Sal asked.

"Indeed, I did," I said, patting my pack slung over my shoulder. Inside was the sum of my entire earthly possessions besides the clothes I was currently wearing. Three shirts, a pair of pants, a note purse, and two pairs of new socks. Of all my possessions I had none were more valuable than the note purse, which held the results of me selling the family farm. More money than I had ever seen in my entire life. Over six thousand Royal Crowns, just enough to purchase my way into one of the lesser Legions. And in doing so, starting my plan in motion. The large monetary price was well worth the cost. 

"Good!" Sal exclaimed, "Seeing as I was able to get your sign-up cost significantly reduced, I believe it is only proper that you pick up the bill for our breakfast."

I reluctantly agreed. Though Sal definitely deserved it. It was not easy to find a spot in a Bridge Legion, especially for a Nameless like myself.

We sat down at a table outside of a small restaurant. The interior was busy, nearly every table was filled with customers sitting and enjoying the breakfasts. The tables outside were sparsely filled. I figured it was mostly due to the summer heat and the dust kicked up by the ever-present crowds. 

"Good morning fellas," said the cheerful young waitress. She was pretty, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She smiled and I returned it. "What can I get for you? We have some grit just about to be finished cooking if you'd like."

"No thank you," said Sal, "Can we please have two of your delicious egg wraps and two cups of coffee?"

"Of course," smiling again before she left.

After she left Sal turned to me, "Look at you! Not even a day in town and you have already started with the ladies."

I was confused, "What do you mean?"

"She was obviously smitten by you. And the way you smiled back at her, you cannot tell me that was innocent."

"She was?" I glanced back at the waitress; she was helping another table. She was attractive and if I had more conventional goals in life then perhaps I would try my luck with a girl like her. I decided that is would be better to shift the subject away from myself. "What about you and that girl in the tavern?"

My friend lounged back in his chair. He smiled, mind in a different place. "You know, it's true what they say about being part of one of the Bridge Legions. And it does not matter which Legion you are a part of, as long as you have a Cloak, people buy you drinks and girls flock to your side."

"That sounds like a dream come true for you."

"At first it was," said Sal, thanking the waitress as she placed mugs of coffee on the table, "it was more than I ever thought possible. I could only imagine what kind of lives the more reputable Legionnaires must be living. But that all change when I wandered drunkenly into the Ogre's Chamber Pot looking for more free booze."

He took a sip of his coffee wincing from the heat, "Trishel is the best thing to happen to me. No amount of gold and fame will ever compare to how much she means to me." 

I chuckled.

"Shut up!" Sal said, kicking at me under the table.

"I just never thought I would hear you talking about a single girl in such a way. You were always bragging about how many girls you were going to hook up with when you finally left home," I said, taking a cautious sip from my mug. The coffee was perfectly strong.

"I most certainly made my rounds through the taverns and brothels before I met her," Sal said, "It all seemed like a giant waste of time once I met Trishel. I wish that I could have skipped all the others and just gone to that rundown bar on my first day and met her before anything else." His eyeline drifted in the direction of the Ogre's Chamber Pot. Lost in memories.

I left him to his thoughts. When he turned back to me, I asked, "If she's so important to you why still participate in the Gathering? Legionnaires don't have a high life expectancy."

Sal smiled, "It's for our future. As soon as I retrieve enough treasure from beyond the bridges, I'm going to buy her a home outside of the city and away from that dump of a bar."

I understood his goal. I was only briefly in the interior of the crumbling old building, and I wanted to leave. It must be a horrible experience to live there. "And I thought you were going full city boy on me."

"Nope," Sal responded, "This city is only a temporary lodging for me. I'll always long for the countryside."

We ate our egg wraps, making only sparse conversation. They were just as good as Sal had insisted they would be. When we finished, I paid the bill, as promised. We left the restaurant and made our way through the city.

"Is there anything else you need?" Sal asked.

I thought through my belongings. "I could probably use some weapons or armor," I said, "though I don't know if I can afford any."

"I wouldn't worry," said Sal, "the Legion will supply basic arms and armor for you."

That was great news. There was no telling how much a weapon would cost. It was far more important for me to have the money to join the Legions than it was to have a weapon. I would have participated in the Gathering without a weapon if I had to, but I was very glad that I would be given the means to defend myself. 

Every three years, for the span of three weeks, the bridges to the world beyond appear on the edge of cliffs east of Bridgetown. Beckoning anyone brave enough to cross them to a world filled with wealth. They say there are piles of gold and jewels and other precious metals. Enough to fund an entire kingdom for generations. For the past one hundred years the Kingdom of Ferandris has hosted The Gathering, the kingdom's greatest triumph. A grand endeavor to bring back as much wealth as possible for both the individuals participating and the kingdom. The Thirteen Bridge Legions were formed within the first few years after the Gathering began, as an idea of competition between wealthy lords of the Ferandris or wealthy merchant families. Those groups had a greater chance of more wealth. At first the Bridge Legions were created as powerful military groups. Small armies marching over the bridges and establishing dominance in the new land. They were trained for the worst combat could offer. They attempted to establish a new kingdom in the world beyond, but once the bridges disappeared after their allotted three weeks it was impossible to contact those trapped on the other side. Then when the bridges appeared three years later, they would find only corpses remaining. With the idea of the Bridge Legions being used as a conquering force being thrown out, the Legions had degraded from strong military forces to jumbled groups of mercenaries, treasures hunters, thrill seekers, and anyone over eighteen years old looking to fill their pockets with gold and their lives with fame. 

Suddenly, being a Bridge Legionnaire meant being a celebrity. Some Legions still maintained strict military structures and training. They offered training for their Legionnaires in the off years and tournaments to determine those worthy to join their Bridge Legion. Those Legions tended to be the hardest to join and but some of the most successful in the Gathering. Most of the other Legions resigned to a financial system of recruitment. Offering positions in their Legions to those with enough money to pay their high prices. 

At the end of every Gathering, when the Bridge Legions returned from the other side of the Bridges, they were each scored for how many men they lost and how much treasure they brought back with them. The Legion that performed the best was granted boons from the Crown of Ferandris and were known to all throughout the entire kingdom. This was why some many of the Legions required monetary requirement to join, that way the sponsors can make a profit even if they were to score low at the end of the Gathering.

I would have preferred to join one of the more well-trained Legions, but by the end of the last Gathering my mother was very ill and it was my duty to care for her and the family farm. I was unable to take the necessary time to train and fight in one of the many tournaments. My mother had passed away a little over two years ago. With my grandfather having died over five years ago and my father having died in a Gathering over ten years past, I had no one left in my life besides Sal. 

I decided to sell the farm and join this year's Gathering by any means necessary. It would have been a folly to for me to stay in the small town. My family had issues with the Church of the Holy Warrior. We had been shamed, and the Church's power influenced our neighbors against us. After decades of my family serving the area faithfully suddenly the people turned against us. We were unable to sell any of our crops or even shoe our horses. My father participated in the Gathering in the hopes to bring back wealth to support our family. But he never returned. The stress was too much for my grandfather, his heart gave out one day while he was breaking in one of the younger horses. Once my mother got sick, I started to plan my revenge, but it wasn't until the family land was sold before I could act on those plans. 

Sal and I wound our way through the crowds of people. I followed close behind as he cut off the main road and down a few of the less crowded roads and alleyways. The buildings parted and before us lay the Gathering Field. A vast churning ocean of color. Each man wore a cloak of bright dyed fabric representing the Thirteen Bridge Legions. Great banners blew in the wind upon long wooden poles signifying the individual Bridge Legions. I recognized several from the end results of previous Gatherings. There were the Julipen Terrors with their mustard cloaks, each member adorned with the prizes taken from creatures they slew beyond the bridges. Their banner was a black axe over a boar on a mustard yellow field. They had never been too high on the leaderboards, but they were a favorite of fans for their ferociousness when it came to monster hunting. Rumor had it that the King himself hired them every Gathering to provide the main chorus for the great feast he put on for the winning Legion. Beside the Legion of the Julipen Terror was the yellow eye and bow on a green banner of the Scout Legion. The two Legions often work in unison. 

In the distance I saw the banner of the Red Dragons, the victors of the past four Gatherings. Their blood red banner held an emblazoned golden dragon in its center. It was the largest Bridge Legion and easily the richest and most well equipped. Each of its members wore spotless red cloaks and shining armor. Their banners flew higher on long poles higher than all the other Legion's banners. Hanging with them were the purple and gold tassels of the King's Favor, signifying his favorite of the Bridge Legions. 

I remained there, looking across the Gathering Field. Sal had never told me which of the Legions he was a member. He had never mentioned it in his letters, and he was not wearing one of the indicating Cloaks. Sal being part of a Legion was the only reason I had been able to join any of them. He negotiated with his Legion leaders to allow me to join their ranks and even at a discounted rate. Otherwise, I would have had to wait until the next Gathering to be able to afford the Legions' steep fees and participate in the Gathering. I do not believe my mind, body, and soul would have allowed me to endure another three years before enacting my plans. 

As I was going through the mental list of which Legion I was about to join. I saw Sal pulling a cloak out of his pack. My heart dropped when I saw the tattered purple cloth. Sal was part of the Bruises. 

The Bruises were a once great Bridge Legion put forth by the Principality of Ferandris, known then as the Legion of the Royal Spear. But now it was little more than a laughingstock for the other Bridge Legions. After over fifty years of placing in the bottom of the Gathering they received their new nickname, The Bruises. Representing the black eye the Bridge Legion was to the kingdom and its royal family. I had always wondered why the Principality continued sponsor such a shameful and worthless Legion. The only answer I could come up with, tradition.

It really did not matter what Legion I joined. My goal could be achieved on any of the Bridge Legions. But the Bruises were just an embarrassment. They were the worst Legion in the history of the Gathering. My mind drifted to the full, tucked away, note purse. I could live like a noble for over a year on the amount of money or for over ten years living frugally. No matter how I spent the money, I would never have close to that amount of money ever again in my life. This was the only chance, I had no other choice.

There I was, on the edge of the Gathering Field, about to make the greatest decision I would ever make in my entire life. Should I dive headfirst into my best laid plans or should I take the easy way out and live a life of peace. Looking back on it, I probably should have left and found a nice quiet place in the country, far up in the mountains where I would have little to no contact with people. Maybe I would find a wife and start a family. Maybe I would be able to forget the wrongs that were committed against my family and have a full and fruitful life. Maybe.

"Are you coming?" Sal asked, already several steps ahead of me.

I decided. Glancing at the Red Dragon Banner in the distance I sighed. I followed Sal through the throng of colorful cloaks towards the single purple banner of the Bruises. The shame of being a Bruise was only a minor issue in the grand scheme of things. I would have to make the most of the hand I had been dealt.