The streets of Durak Holm were bustling today. If you were a visitor to Eretsu from some other great homeland you’d hardly know a war was in full-swing outside the walls. The Gudanna have made a great advance against the Durani forces, and for once the Durani have turned tail.
Though it’s possible the retreat was a plan all along, since the northern forces are blockaded in a heavily fortified state. Almost no one can enter the northern region without taking volleys from Fire Rams posted at every corner of the walls protecting Karana Naga. Even Supakva is fortified to withstand an attack from the outside.
Here in Durak Holm, though, the mindset of the people was much different. Specifically, in the city’s trade quarters it felt almost what the locals would call normal. People were buying and selling, holding conversations, and some were even smiling. This was a most unfamiliar feeling.
Nikara even begun thinking why he’d let himself travel so far south. Then he remembered the withered woman he’d run into not long ago. “A powerful magic lies on that land,” she’d told him. “Surely there must exist a Zri mage in the region, for only their magic would give off such a potent trail.”
Nikara didn’t consider himself a powerful mage by any sort, but what he did know was that his was quite a capable mind. That, and he was faithful in the rites of his ancestors. He clutched the riddled bone necklace he wore around his neck. It was an heirloom, passed down from generation to generation, where now it resided with him. It gave him protection and served as a reminder to where his respect lies.
He continued wandering the streets, tightening the wrapping on his shoulders. The sun was beating down on the city, but it was important that he remained as hidden as possible. He was Urugal, and though he meant no real harm to anyone in his surroundings the general feeling toward his kind was that of ire. Continue reading