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  [Sigurd]

  It had been a tough journey, when was it not when you couldn’t sleep in a nice warm bed, but it had gone by quickly and as the evening of his third night on the roads loomed quickly, he could see Barkamstead on the horizon, fading quickly in the dying light. Sigurd had been stopped for the last hour, having found a nice, sheltered section by the riverbank to set up camp. Currently he was reading a book by the campfire, enjoying the feel of the warmth on his face.

  The book was about dungeons, when was it not with Sigurd? He had found it in Oar’s Rest on his day out. “A guide to the most unusual and obscure dungeons currently known” he said to himself reading out the title. It was interesting, but it contained nothing like the dungeon he had found. There were dungeons that played with time, twisted gravity and many other bizarre effects, but mothing like what he had experienced. There was a couple of footnotes that mentioned grand rooms and large floors but they all seemed to serve some sort of purpose, whereas in comparison the one he had found was like an entirely new world. It was just ridiculous.

  The book was old, so perhaps they didn’t have such an extensive knowledge on all the dungeons that had been found but he had hoped to find something. Sigurd had never served as a soldier or a mercenary, and though he had acted as a caravan guard often, being aware of all his surroundings as he had to be in that dungeon was something he had never trained.

  He sighed, nothing.

  It was time for bed, tomorrow he would reach Barkamstead, find the stables to keep Dexter in and be on his way to the capital.

  He dreaded to think how long it would take him to travel across the continent if not for the invention of transfer pads, or transport pads as they were also called. They allowed you to teleport between the major cities and were utterly invaluable, though a little expensive.

  Morning came bright and early as usual, though this time it didn’t feel too early. Sigurd felt refreshed and raring to go, the lack of pain in his ribs helping his desire to get up and about. He walked out of his tent and packed up camp in about 20 minutes, making sure to feed Dexter first. Sigurd never had breakfast, it didn’t make sense to him and whenever he did eat in the early morning, he just felt more hungry, and the size of his lunches and dinners didn’t change. He had then decided there was no point, barring some exceptions such as when he was injured and in the Inn. Thorl’s food had been lovely, and he had felt hungry after all the pain in his ribs. But now he was back to being healthy it was not necessary, as well as the pain of lighting a fire this early, when everything was slightly damp from the overnight dew.

  No, lunch in Barkamstead, and then dinner in the capital sounded good.

  Mounting Dexter, they set off with only a couple hours in the saddle ahead of them.

  Barkamstead was one of the smaller cities in the kingdom, and that was apparent from the wall, being shorter and narrower than most of the other cities Sigurd had seen.

  He was waiting in the queue to enter the city, moving along at a sedate pace as the gate guards checked people in. Twenty minutes later it was his turn.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Name?” the guard on the right said. He was in half metal, with a longsword strapped to his hip and a bored expression.

  “Sigurd Vasagen” He answered.

  “Purpose for being in Barkamstead?”

  “Journeying to the capital, I’m just stabling Dexter” he said patting the horse on the neck “and taking the transfer pads to the capital.”

  “Ok, anything to declare before our search.”

  “Nope, nothing Sir.”

  “Ok, please dismount and aid my fellow guard in a quick search of your belongings.”

  “Of course.” Sigurd replied. It was standard procedure and if he had had anything worth keeping secret or expensive it might have been worth making a fuss, it wasn’t for what he had currently.

  He dismounted and helped the guard go through his stuff. It took two minutes, definitely not enough time for a full search but good enough to check for hidden pockets and illicit goods in his saddle bags.

  “You’re free to go through sir.” The guard said afterwards.

  “Thank you” he replied, taking Dexter by the reins and walking through the gates. Unlike Oar’s Rest where the inn served as a stable, a city such as Barkamstead couldn’t have people riding through the city and as such the stables were by the gate. There was another one at the other side of the city.

  He walked up to the stablemaster, who was lounging in a chair just inside the reception area.

  “Hi there” he said, as he walked closer.

  “Hi yourself, name’s Orren, what can I do for you today?”

  “Sigurd,” he replied, answering the man’s unasked question, “I need to stable Dexter here for the duration of my trip to the capital. I expect to be gone about one to two weeks, but it could be longer.”

  “Sure, sure we have space. The price is 25 coppers per day for stabling. 10 coppers a day for food and water and an optional 5 coppers every other day for grooming and care. Each week we require someone to give your horse exercise, that’ll be 25 coppers too. That makes it about 5 silver and 35 coppers each week.” Orren told him.

  “That’s fine, I have some food here for Dexter, should be good for the first week.”

  “Ok, we can use that up first, we’ll charge 1 copper for water each day that you have food remaining and then the standard 10 coppers for each day after the food runs out.”

  “That’s perfect thanks.”

  “Ok, follow me on over then, is he a good horse?”

  “Yeah, yeah, quiet and a bit timid, you’ll have no problems with him.”

  “Good, he seems alright standing there. We often find that the sound of the blacksmiths and the hustle and bustle gets them a bit skittish and it can be a pain to deal with when the owners are not there.”

  Sigurd laughed at that, “Nah, Dexter’s used to it, I do a bit of metalsmithing myself, just making sculptures and everyday things that a village needs, nails and the like you know.”

  “Makes sense, we’ll take that first week off you now if that’s alright and the rest when you get back seeing as you aren’t sure just when. If you’re gone longer than a month please send us word, otherwise we’ll think you might have scarpered and left us paying for your horse. We’ll have no choice but to sell him in that case.” Orren told him.

  “Wouldn’t want that.” Sigurd responded, moving over to pat Dexter. “I won’t leave you behind Dex, be good and I’ll be back soon.”

  Orren smiled.

  Leaving Dexter in good hands, Sigurd moved through the streets searching out the transfer pad.

  Ten minutes of walking and he had found it, in a big courtyard on the eastern side of the city. He had had to pass through a couple additional walls with looming portcullises. The invention of the transfer pads had meant internal city defences were required. If one of the connecting cities ended up taken, soldiers could teleport into the city with no notice, so the separation was required. Looking around Sigurd noticed that it was set up to be a death pit, plenty of cover for soldiers, walls on three sides and plenty of guards stationed with arrows.

  Sigurd would definitely not want to be part of an invasion force that had teleported into Barkamstead.

  He quickly found the queue for the Interchange and joined the line. It moved slowly, like all queues but it did move. He sighed, queuing was something that didn’t happen in Littlebrook and he had not had to for a few years. God it was awful.

  Forty minutes of queuing and he was at the front. It took the standard two and a half minutes to get through the checks and then he was off to the interchange.

  The interchange was a giant walled room somewhere in the kingdom that no-one knew. Well, someone did, but most people didn’t. Sigurd thought it was underground somewhere so that it couldn’t even be stumbled upon. It contained the transfer pads to all the major cities in the kingdom and it was what would allow Sigurd to cross the whole kingdom to get to the capital. It was far busier than Barkamstead had been and that was empty as far as the interchange went. Sigurd hurried over to the capitol lines, before any more people joined the queue.

  In a flash, and after a bit more queuing it was done. He was through and safely in the capital. The busiest, largest human settlement of them all.

  Adventurer guild here I come! he thought.

  Time to get rich… as a community of course.