Thankfully the city watchmen that patrolled the fields knew Fang almost as well as they did Rone. Otherwise, they may have shot him on sight, thinking he was a rogue wolf in the area.
After just a few hours of walking, they reached the gates to the city-kingdom of Crag Moor. Its iron portcullis was already closed for the night, but a smaller iron gate stood open with guards attending.
The lower gate was just large enough for a man and horse to pass through, allowing the guards to get an excellent sight of anyone entering or leaving the city. As he neared the gate, one of the guards opened his face shield on the helmet he wore and grinned.
“Good to see you again, Rone. I was just telling Chancy here, that one of your lot would be coming soon. It’s nearly time for a supply run, I’m guessing.” Rone clasped the guard’s hand in greeting and smiled back at him.
“It is Benny, but that’s not why I’m here, I need to see the mages.” The guard named Benny looked surprised and just kind of stared a moment.
“Rone, you know I like you, buddy, but the last time you went to the tower, we had to haul you out of there on a stretcher. It seems I recall something about having your legs turned to stone? Why in the world would you want to go messing with them again?” Benny asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I have to benny. It's for Max.” Benny did not miss the sadness that washed over Rone’s face with the mention of Max’s name.
“Well, I won’t try to stop you, but try not to piss them off again, ok?” Benny asked with genuine concern in his voice.
“No worries, Benny I just need some information is all; then I will be out of their hair.” With that, Rone shook his hand once more and headed on through the gate. Both guards kind of backed up a little as Fang strolled past, and chancy even placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. Neither one bothered trying to stop him from going through. Knowing it wouldn’t do them any good to anyway.
Rone smiled a little to himself when he heard Chancy tell Benny how Fang made him nervous. He was already too far away to hear Benny’s reply, though he would wager it was along the same lines. Rone stopped and took a deep breath, letting the smells and sounds of the city flow into him in waves.
The large port city was well protected by the towering stone walls that surrounded it on all sides, except for the south. Which was were the seaport was found.
Buildings and houses constructed of both wood and stone, lined both sides of its streets. They were as varied in size and shape as the people who live in them. Some no more than shanty huts while others were more akin to mansions than houses.
Shops and taverns made up the spaces not used for housing. And in between those were the street vendors. Hawking their wares, and all but begging those who passed to buy only from them.
Each one claiming to be the best goods in the city, when, in fact, they all got their wares from the same storehouses and freight barges that everyone else did.
The people that passed him were as mixed in their reaction to him, as the buildings were in stature. He got everything from frightened looks to utter hatred showing on their faces.
While Thorn Callers may have been granted a certain level of respect, DokalFae were thought very little of here. Most of those that resided in the city were either an envoy for wealthy merchants from Luna’Dwell, or thieves and cut-throat mercenaries from the exiled lists.
Him being a half-blood only lessened the opinions of the upper-class elves he passed and got raised looks of suspicion from the other races.
As he wound his way through the streets, he whispered for Fang to stay close and not get distracted. Until finally, he made it to the Ham and Honey Inn.
It wasn’t the most upscale place in the city, but Feral the inn keep was a good friend. He knew there, he could get a room and a good night’s rest without being asked a thousand questions about his business.
As he clicked the latch that held the door closed and swung it open. The sounds of the minstrel's lute mixed with the smoke of pipes and cigars, as it wafted out into the air.
He could smell the hot bowls of stew from the evening's meals, as well as the ale and liquor that was being consumed by the rowdy crowd.
He stepped inside and pointed towards the back of the inn to a dimly lit booth at the end of the dining hall. Fang instinctually slipped through the crowd raising more than one gasp from those gathered. And even a few from the unsuspecting barmaids.
But, once they saw Rone, they just smiled and tossed some dried jerky on the floor. Where Fang now waited for Rone to come to the table.
Feral Waved from the bar and held up his thumb, a signal meant to ask Rone if he wanted his usual. Rone smiled and nodded then headed for the booth Fang had gone to. As he approached, he caught sight of a slender man dressed in all black leather and knelt down, rubbing the big wolf’s head.
It only took a moment to realize it was his longtime friend and more than a one-time bringer of trouble. Traijen Moonshade.
The LunaFae, known as Traijen, was what you might call a one of a kind. While most moon elves preferred the strict disciplines of their warrior and mage schools, Traijen liked the shadows. One of the sneakiest thieves Rone had ever known, and more adept at opening locks than most locksmiths.
He smiled as he recalled Max’s dislike for his friend. Always going on about how rogues can’t be trusted. He used to say they would rob you blind with one hand while charming you out of what was left with the other.
But on more than one occasion, Traijen had covered Rones back. He was fond of reminding Rone that as outcasts, they should stick together. This usually came after he had just stolen some wealthy merchant’s jewelry or their daughter's heart.
Traijen smiled as Rone placed the tip of his dagger against the moon elf’s back.
“You shouldn’t touch a man's wolf without his permission, elf.”
“And you should never get this close if you’re going to stab a guy in the back, HoloFae. That’s when he pointed downward, drawing Rones eyes to the shiny steel of a small blade protruding from the rear of his boot. Stryder could see the green tint caused by the paralyzing poison that coated its tip.
“Really, Traijen? Imp blood?” Rone asked, stepping back a few feet from the blade. The last time you nicked me with that stuff, it took four hours to get the numbness out of my leg.”
“Hey, it's not my fault you walked past just as I was going to mule kick that dwarf.”
“It was your fault we even had to fight those dwarves!” Rone said with a chuckle.
“You just had to bed his daughter, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t have to, but man did I want to,” Traijen said with a nudge to Rone’s ribs.
“And I might add it was so worth it too,” He said with a wink.
“Maybe for you,” Rone said with a big grin crossing his lips. With that, he grasped Traijen's hand in a greeting of friendship.
“Good to see you Tray,” Rone said as he slid into the booth.
“And you as well, my friend. What brings you to Crag Moor? It’s still two weeks before supply runs, and besides, after that fiasco with the mages last time, I’m surprised Max let you come at all.
“He is the reason I’m here, Tray. Max was attacked, and I’m afraid he’s dying.” The slender moon elf slid into the bench across the table from Rone. His glass blue eyes focused on his friend as he brushed his blondish white hair back from his face, tucking it over each ear.
“What happened?” He asked with genuine concern. He may not have cared much for the old ranger personally, but he knew what he meant to Rone. And that was enough for him to care.