Wilder
A soft gentle breeze blew past his ear with a phantom whistle. It picked up the ends of his long brown hair and lifted the strands lazily. Sweat fell from his furrowed brow as he traced in the air the shape of a print he found on the trail.
A fox probably long gone by the weathering he thought to himself. Standing up he trudged forward along the game trail he had been exploring. His boots, leather with fur lining at the top, and a hard bottom trampled the grass and scattered pebbles along the trail.
This land of Mirrowater was far warmer than the mountains of the Ordivante, but luckily Byrhtnoth had grown up in Wilderana which had a similar climate. Yes he was a Wilder the rebellious barbarians who refuse to bend knee to the Empire any further. Sadly their dreams of a kingdom died quickly with the migratory peoples of the West. His tribe managed to migrate along with the Imperialist Tudonii into Ordivantes, the Northern mountains of Highathar.
After an hour of walking a small scent of smoke tickled his nostrils. It was not a large fire and soon followed by the smell of boiled vegetables. A hearth fire was nearby and as he traversed further toward it he broke the tree line to see a large settlement. Walking down onto a dirt path that showed signs of having seen heavy traffic often, Byrhtnoth saw a sign post. It was in elvish, dwarvish, and nordic runes, Byrhtnoth could read neither. He was literate but only in his language.
Moving through the of the outskirts of the town were the poorer classes lived he had a couple odd looks from the locals. In all fairness he was dressed in an alien manner to the region. He wore very little only a plain grey kilt, a type of man skirt, his brown combative boots, a large thick leather belt reinforced with bronze that protected his kidneys, leather bracers, a right shoulder guard made of hardened leather, and a brass torc around his neck. Strapped to his back was a small rucksack, in it was some bedding; rations of jerky, nuts, and dried fruit; spare boots; as well as spar kilts; some tanner’s equipment such as a skinning knife; flax rope; and a whetstone.
Actually attached to the exterior of his burlap rucksack was his shield. This was called the celtic shield because that’s the name of the tribe that first made it. It was a lot like an oval shield but top and bottom ends were wider, and instead of a consistent roundness it concaves on the sides lengthwise making an inward curve on the sides. The shield itself held tribal symbols of his tribe the Ælfwlþ, with a rounded dome in the center which protected the hand that held the shield on the other side. This meant the shield was held in the center which allowed more mobility with it but also put far more strain on the wielder's wrists.
Strapped to the belt on his left side was his Widler straight sword. It was an iron weapon of 2.5 feet, with a two foot blade. It was designed to be able to hack at the enemy, but also pierce through the occasional mail armored foe, which was common enough in Wilderana to need such advancement. The hilt was five inches of hardwood with leather wrappings, and it ended in a minor decoration of amber. It reseted in a plain scabbard of wood covered in thin leather to prevent the wood from swelling and trapping the sword. The scabbard itself was attacked to his armored belt by means of iron links.
As he walked past the elves, who were at best a few inches shorten than he, Byrhtnoth approached the gates of the town where the guards stopped him. Most likely recording who passed through and incase someone caused a commotion. The guardsmen wore lamellar armor and a lot of green coloring on the cloth of their uniforms.
“Halt stranger we need your name and purpose for entering the city proper before you continue,” said the nearest guard. On of the others was at a table and began wetting the end of a quill in ink to mark down my response.
Though the wilder knew little of the strange lyric elven tongue he knew enough to understand the guard. Instinctively he gave his tribe’s usual greeting. “Hálettest uncúða, fðreoynu áscilde ðu.”
“What?” the guard asked confused.
Struggling in the elven tongue and most likely butchering it with his accent, which was used to vowels being harsher than they are in the elf language, Byrhtnoth said “I said.. Hail friend… may the ancestors protect you.” Unimpressed and uncaring the elf repeated his demand for the Wilder’s name and purpose. “I am Byrhtnoth of the Ælfwlþ. I am here to rest for at least the night before continuing Eastward.”
Satisfied with that answer the guardsmen wrote it down and moved aside to cease blocking the Wilder’s path. “The nearest and cheapest in is the Elwin down the second street on the right towards the end. Welcome to Mirrorwater.” Grateful the wilder nodded and walked into the city. The buildings were much different from simple hovels outside the walls. These were mainly made of stone with the depictions of nature engraved into the facades, along with the woodwork being crafted in some artsy manner. This wasn't surprising as the buildings would of course have such an elven feel seeing how Mirrorwater is an elven state.
Byrhtnoth managed to easily reach the tavern thanks to the direction guardsman gave him. The sounds of laughter and smell of food permeated the air. He walked past a guard who was in the process of lighting the street lamps for the sun was quickly falling behind the horizon. Entering it he saw a cavalcade of dwarves, imperials, nords, and elves drinking and talking. The varied demographic came from how Mirrorwater was near the great river which had the heaviest trade traffic on the entire continent so many merchants would rest here. Very few of these men would be merchants though as the wealthier merchants would be in a more uppity inn, these most likely were the crewmen of the ships.
Wading his way through the crowd Byrhtnoth came to the counter. He leaned against the willow wood counter on the side, as all the stools were taken by thirsty customers. Through the cacophony around him the elf behind him asked "what can I get ya?" The innkeeper had spoken in Imperial common tongue, most likely because with it as the trade language for the last century most people knew it. Luckily Byrhtnoth knew common almost as well as Wilder.
Keeping his moderately loud to be heard the wilder replied "beer and a bed."
"48 copper for the beer and 1 silver for the bed." Was the elf's quick response.
A bit pricey but I got nowhere else to sleep for the night. Grudgingly the wilder gave the coin to the elf, who bit them to make sure they weren't fakes. Giving Byrhtnoth a room key and a mug of ale he called out to one of his helpers. "Thasitalia show this man to room nine!"
"Alright mister Luthais" came a cheerful but tired voice from a nearby table were a group of Nords and Dwarves were in a drinking contest. She approached Byrhtnoth and eyed the wilder with curiosity. The petite elf woman said "This way please." He followed here while drinking his ale and was lead upstairs to a hallway with a series of doors. Stroking his long moustache he looked into his austere room which was little more than a chamber pot and a straw mattress. "If you need anything approach the counter downstairs and no trouble making" the girl said before going back down.
Byrhtnoth dropped his gear into the room and locked the door before heading back down for more ale, and to talk to the locals. He heard a few interesting tales how Mirrorwater has recently seceded from Galadriel, word of the dwarf kingdom across the river, the secession crisis in Wallachia, and the constant fighting in the Nordlands. Once he was thoroughly drunk though the Wilder made his way back up to his room and passed out in his overpaid room.
