A Foggy Arrival in Hradec

As evening descended, a thick fog rolled in, accompanied by a soft, persistent drizzle.

Beneath the wooden shelter at the gates of Hradec, a spear-wielding guard stood watch, while the tax collector dozed, slumped over his table, convinced that no one would be entering or leaving the city in such dreadful weather.

“Thud, thud, thud…”

Heavy hoofbeats echoed across the drawbridge spanning the moat, approaching the city gates. Through the shrouding mist, the vigilant guard squinted, discerning only two tall, indistinct silhouettes.

“Halt!” the guard warned.

“Whoa~” The two towering figures reined in their mounts, one of them calling out, “We wish to enter the city!”

“All who enter the city must dismount!” the guard cautioned once more.

The other person spoke then, her voice revealing her to be a woman.

“Dismount, then. What a ridiculous rule! I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Sithi truly has nothing better to do than invent problems.”

The tax collector, who had been sleeping moments before, suddenly sprang to life, sitting bolt upright in his chair. ‘Daring to insult the mayor? I shall extort a hefty sum from them,’ he thought.

As the two led their horses forward, the guard and the tax collector finally discerned their attire: two tall figures cloaked in hooded capes. One of them was a woman of breathtaking beauty, whose allure seemed only amplified by the mysterious shroud of fog.

Upon realizing the apparent nobility of the newcomers, the tax collector quickly rose and bowed. “Esteemed lady, may I inquire about the purpose of your visit to Hradec? The entry fee is ten denar silver coins per person.”

For a man like the tax collector, high status equated to a rich harvest, whereas the peasants entering for market were rarely hindered; they were mere paupers, offering no worthwhile spoils.

Noting that both the tax collector and the guard at the city gates were unfamiliar faces, and seemingly intent on extorting her, Noren wasted no further words. “I am Anna’s niece, Noren. Please allow us to enter the city.”

The guard blinked in surprise. “Anna? Which Anna? That dark-haired temptress from the brothel?”

A corner of the young woman’s mouth twitched.

The tax collector beside them, however, swiftly recovered and began to berate the guard furiously. “Which Anna, you imbecile! You dare address the mayor’s wife by her given name, and then call her a… a harlot? The last person who spoke so disrespectfully now has grass growing several feet tall over their grave!”

The guard’s face instantly paled.

“Let’s go!” the young woman said, turning to Tolke.

Yet the tax collector immediately stepped forward to block their path, a fawning smile on his face. “Madam, I cannot confirm if you are truly the mayor’s wife’s niece, and furthermore, you have yet to pay the city’s entry tax…”

Noren frowned, displeased. “Firstly, I am no madam. Secondly, who is on duty in the gatehouse today?”

The tax collector looked bewildered, wondering why the gatehouse duty was suddenly relevant, but he still replied, “I do not know.”

She turned to the guard, asking, “Who is on duty in the gatehouse today?”

The guard also shook his head.

Noren’s brow furrowed in exasperation. How could these two know nothing? The tax collector’s ignorance was perhaps excusable, as he reported to a different superior, but what was wrong with this guard? Did he not even know his fellow guardsmen on duty?

With no other recourse, she shouted up to the gatehouse in Norse, “Who is on duty in the gatehouse today!”

Her voice echoed, but no one responded.

Just as Noren began to suspect the gatehouse soldiers had abandoned their post, contemplating whether to pay the fee and then lodge a severe complaint with the mayor, a response finally came.

“Hiccup—” The reply was a long, drawn-out burp of alcohol, sending a throbbing sensation through Noren’s temples.

The person was slumped over the battlements, slurring incoherently, “Wh-who’s there?”

As they spoke, their grip faltered, and a wine barrel, along with a goblet, tumbled down, striking the wooden shelter before rolling onto the ground. Wine splashed onto the young woman’s cloak.

She suppressed the rising anger within her. ‘Do not be angry, do not be angry,’ she admonished herself. ‘After all, isn’t a cloak meant to ward off rain? Wine and water are not so different.’

“It is I, Noren!”

“No-Noren, how lo-long has it been since you were last in Hradec? Hiccup~~~~ Sv-Svein, why-why isn’t he here? Oh, he… he went to Opava to bui… blech!” The Norseman in the gatehouse stammered through his words, finally retching directly onto the people below the city gates.

A torrent of foul-smelling bile directly drenched the tax collector’s head, plastering his face and leaving him frozen in place.

The young woman had already recoiled and dodged the moment she saw something dispersing in the air above. Still, a considerable amount of vomit splattered onto her cloak, though thankfully, her golden hair, soft armor, and trousers remained unstained.

“Aaaargh!”

The frantic tax collector plunged headfirst into the moat. Seeing that no one was blocking their way, the young woman and Tolke led their horses into the city.

She first went to see the mayor.

****

Sithi was currently engrossed in writing and sketching at his desk, his quill pen scratching rhythmically across the parchment.

“Noren, it has been over a month since you last visited Hradec, hasn’t it?”

The young woman accepted the red wine offered by a servant and took a sip. “Recently, refugees have been steadily arriving in the village, and we’ve also had bandits and brigands attempting raids. I haven’t had much free time.”

Sithi nodded. “Hradec has also seen a significant influx of refugees. The newly expanded areas are crowded with them, perhaps two or three hundred. It seems there was a poor wheat harvest in Olomouc, and that ‘pretty boy’ increased taxes again, prompting large numbers of people to flee.”

“Does the Duke of Prague not intervene?”

Sithi dipped his quill in ink and continued writing, answering without lifting his head, “It’s not the Duke’s personal demesne, so why would he concern himself?”

Noren drained her goblet in one gulp. The attendant, holding a wine pitcher, moved to refill it, but she raised a hand, signaling him not to.

“Where is my aunt?” With a cup of red wine warming her stomach, Noren felt the damp chill dissipate. She unfastened her cloak and handed it to a servant. “Take this and have it thoroughly cleaned.”

“Anna has gone to Opava,” Sithi replied. “The church there is nearing completion, and she is also paying a visit to the Bishop from Prague, as Opava will become part of his ecclesiastical demesne henceforth.”

“That ‘lazybones’?” The young woman chuckled softly.

Sithi, too, was infected by her mirth, unable to maintain his composure. “Ha! Yes, precisely, that ‘lazybones.’”

“Jaromir the ‘lazybones’ is so indolent that he eats only one meal a day instead of two, yet he preaches about moderation being a virtue! Bah! And he inexplicably hauled away forty cartloads of wheat, fifty of barley, and twenty of beans and oats from me, claiming Opava was plagued by rats and suffering from food shortages. What a farce! I truly wish he would remain in Prague forever!”

The mayor grumbled, clearly displeased with the ‘lazybones’s’ predatory actions, yet his discontent could go no further, for the land ultimately belonged to the Přemyslid dynasty.

Noren then recalled that night in Opava several months prior. The rat plague had indeed been terrifying and bizarre enough to convince her that it was all connected to the sorcerer. Unfortunately, she had already slain the sorcerer before the plague occurred.

‘And deservedly so, wretch!’ she cursed inwardly. She then turned to Sithi. “How much longer will Svein remain in Opava? Now that the church is completed, surely he should be returning?”

“Soon. Anna will return with Svein then.”

“Oh, and Uncle Sithi, there’s one more matter…” The young woman then explained the reason for her visit to Hradec.

Thus, the two conversed intermittently, Sithi repeatedly dipping his quill as his ink ran dry, while Tolke’s drowsy head continually bobbed.

When nightfall and the fog merged into one, Sithi finally set down his quill.

They partook of a relatively simple dinner. Afterwards, Noren spent a little time playing and bonding with her young nephew. Finally, as the church bells chimed, they retired to their respective rooms for the night.