Chapter 50

  The town greeted them with the clack of horseshoes on cobbled streets. And as picturesque as the town was from afar, it was lovelier up close.

  First thing Hektor noticed riding into town was that there were no slums or stricken properties on the outskirts. Sure, he could spot the more modest homes, but hardly ones that were collapsing or destitute.

  First impressions were those of high standards. There was no rubbish, the streets were clean and the air pure. At a glance, the people were healthy and hearty, and in good spirits.

  Entering the town proper, Hektor was all the more impressed and charmed by the place.

  A curious quality of the town was that the ground wasn’t levelled flat. It undulated, flowing with crests and troughs. And the architecture went along with it.

  The people of Roheim had preserved the natural beauty of the region and not simply levelled blocks of earth to make construction easy. They had done things the hard way, working with the original curvatures of the land. And the results spoke for themselves to the beautiful town anyone would be eager to call home.

  The pretty streets flowed with the land like ribbons of stone. As did the houses, their rooftops ebbing and flowing akin to waves replicating the elevations of the terrain.

  The aesthetics attributed a certain depth and holistic niche to the region. Making for a memorable vista and a lingering impression.

  Few buildings were more than two storeys tall. Most homes were to the likeness of endearing cottages with small backyards, miniature porches and dinky chimneys. Just looking at them it was evident that the owners took pride and care in the upkeep of their domiciles. Each home unique with a personality, unlike the mass apartments and to-let homes Hektor had become used to in the city.

  Even the more commercial and public buildings were done with care and personal flair. Oddly enough, the shops and stores in Roheim strangely resembled the more posh shops Hektor knew in Faymoren, rather than the usual general stores. Hektor wondered whether it was due to the personal service and quality afforded to the few in town trumping over the quick and high demands of the many in the city.

  Hektor’s convoy forged through at a steady pace. Not much for playing tourist or sightseeing, Quincy and Gideon were only concerned with parading Hektor about with the intent of making the new Count’s presence known. Anything else could be managed at a later date.

  At their passing, people stopped and stared. Half-surprised and half-expectant, the people of Roheim had known and anticipated the Count’s imminent arrival any day, yet the sudden and discreet appearance had taken them unawares.

  Which suited Hektor just fine. It meant that there would be no welcoming party or parade to contend with. He had had enough in Faymoren, thank you very much.

  The town was smaller than any one district of Faymoren, but that didn’t mean that it lacked for anything crucial.

  Interspersed shops with bazaar and market streets. Inns, pubs, bakeries and eateries. Parks and gardens. Guard posts and guardhouses. Civil buildings and offices. Crafter and artisan workshops. Hektor spotted such in the first ten minutes alone. Though he had to tone down his enthusiasm and curiosity to project a dignified appearance for the onlookers.

  At their trot, it took them less than hour to reach the main town square. The place doing justice to the name, an open squarish ground towards the center of town. The gathering place of town meetings, announcements and celebrations.

  “My home,” Mayor Williams pointed out towards a villa expectedly grander than the surrounding abodes.

  With dusk drawing closer, the sunlight was diminishing especially with the forest and hills to the west and the town being in a valley.

  The fort stood out all the more under the brighter rays atop the hill to the east.

  A small crowd was just beginning to gather in the square when Quincy urged their exit, aligning in the direction of the fort. It took them half an hour to exit the town on the eastern side and another ten to ride up to the somewhat secluded fort.

  The walled fort sat atop a crag overlooking the town. To someone who had lived in Castle Faymoren, Hektor didn’t find it particularly impressive. The barracks in Faymoren were more than twice the size. Though Roheim wasn't without its charms.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The walls and much of the fort itself was built of grey-stone bricks native to the region. The keep was hidden beneath the walls but a large square tower erupted centrally and was the tallest viewpoint in the valley. The four edges of the walls had rounded towers with conical roofs. The western wall facing the town had a drum-tower protruding outwards onto the incline of the cliff.

  The group reached the southern wall, the front facing side of the fort. The main entrance had raised battalions on either side with a raised portcullis. Two guards stood on either side atop the wall and delivered salutes at Quinn’s approach.

  Hektor passed through the gate, the sound of horseshoes echoing crisply against the walls. He emerged onto an open stone courtyard less than a hundred meters wide and across. The inside of the fort was plain and minimalistic, though there was evidence of ongoing efforts to spruce up the place. Smaller blockish buildings lined along the walls with a few temporary sheds erected to aid the renovation effort. To Hektor’s left and right, the southern side had been transformed into stables and open storehouses with overhang roofs jutting from the wall.

  The courtyard was emptied for the Count’s arrival, but Hektor could imagine it to be a lively and bustling place, full of noise and activity. Vacant as it were, his gaze was drawn to the far side, to the staggered stairs leading up to the main keep with the central tower looming above.

  Lining up on either side of the keep entrance were the household staff prepared to welcome their lord for the first time.

  Hektor dismounted and nearly fell over with his legs gone wobbly after the long ride. The horse saved him any embarrassment by standing still and hiding Hektor’s stumble by supporting his lean as the blood rushed to his numb legs.

  The rest copied after him, dismounting their own steeds.

  “Would you like to come over for some refreshments?” Hektor offered to Williams as a trio of stablehands quietly led the horses away.

  “Thank you, My Lord. But I am afraid that I must decline,” denied Williams, holding onto the reins of his horse.

  Just as it was courteous for Hektor to offer, so was it courteous for Mayor Williams to decline. Allowing Hektor the time to rest from the journey and get acquainted with his new home before entertaining guests.

  “Are you free day after tomorrow then? I would love to have you and your family over for dinner,” Hektor followed.

  “It would be our pleasure,” Williams accepted with a bow.

  “Once again, thank you for the welcome and the company, Mayor Williams. Please, do not let me hold you any longer,” Hektor extended his arm for a handshake. “And know that I will remain in the fort till our next meeting, should you have a need to contact me,” he shared.

  Williams shook hands and was grateful of Hektor’s restraint. Prudent to let the excitement cool a little at his arrival before venturing into town and adding to the commotion.

  “Thank you, My Lord. On behalf of the people and myself, welcome to Roheim,” Williams reiterated before mounting his horse and leaving.

  Not wanting to keep the people atop the stairs waiting any longer, Hektor crossed the courtyard, with Gideon and Quincy following, and marched up the steps.

  There were around fifty people assembled before the gates and Hektor’s eyes lit up at spotting Jamie in their midst who was grinning like a loon. Hektor had to try his best at not return his friend’s excitement and keep a dignified appearance.

  As he reached the top, Mister and Missus Wicks, the heads of the household and staff, stepped forward and took a knee, proclaiming, “At your service, Count Hektor. Welcome.”

  The others behind copied their greeting in unison.

  “Please, rise,” Hektor addressed. “Gratitude for the welcome and your service.”

  Hektor looked to the Wicks, who then dismissed the staff to return to their duties. Hektor waited patiently, giving them the time vacate.

  “Nice to see you, Mister and Missus Wicks,” Hektor spoke more casually to the couple. “I hope you like it here.”

  “We do, My Lord,” Ruby Wicks replied. “Roheim is a lovely place,” she gushed as her husband, Earnest, nodded along.

  “That is reassuring,” Hektor made small talk. “Are we renovating?” he gestured to the sheds and the tools left out.

  Missus Wicks made a face, not happy that things had been left carelessly unattended out in open view.

  “The fort is old, My Lord,” Earnest Wicks explained. “We are constantly finding things that need fixing or replacing. Just as well, the structure was built as a holdout to withstand a siege. A few alterations would go a long way to making it a good home.”

  “As long as you have thought things through,” Hektor approved with a nod.

  Judging it time enough for a fair head start, Hektor gestured for the Wicks to follow him into the keep.

  He stepped forth into a narrow reception. Corridors to the left and right led immediately to places elsewhere while doors down the middle were opened to reveal the great hall of the keep. Within the hall, two separate doors on either side connected to other sections. Being the center of the keep, there were no windows, but the hall was brightly lit with aether crystal lamps on the walls and small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

  The interior was bereft of much mason refinery. The hall was a simple rectangular room of plain stone. Though an effort had been made to decorate and liven up the place.

  Scavenged paintings and tapestries hugged the walls with a few artworks displayed on stands. Rugs had been unfurled on the sides and decorative furniture had been placed at the corners. Scrounged regalia had ben attested to the walls.

  For its minimalism, the room was pristine. Not a speck of dust to be found.

  At the far side of the hall was the ever-present elevated throne. Assembled in front of the throne were Hektor’s retinue.

  There remained one final ritual to enact.

  Hektor marched to the throne, not paying mind to the people who looked on, their necks turning with his movements. Upon reaching the throne, he turned round to face his audience with arms folded behind his back.

  Sir Gideon and Knight Quincy marched in unison to stand facing Hektor. As one they announced, “Count Hektor Ashborn,” and took a knee.

  The others in attendance followed their example.

  As they all knelt, Hektor swept his gaze over their heads bowed in subservience. With exaggerated slowness, Hektor lowered his lordly behind onto the throne.

  Sitting on the throne, Hektor allowed a few prolonged seconds of observance before speaking, “Please rise.”