Defining Treason
It seemed as yet another day would pass in the port city of Xavport. Yet another crate to put on a dock, yet another contract to sign, yet another illegal deed on the black market to keep quiet. The black market, as corrupt and sketchy as it was, seemed to drive the city's profits, and the city officials would always look the other way because the benefit was too great for them. As sandy streets cleared up with traffic, as people went to the docks, markets, or otherwise, a coldness between people set in. No one knew who did what, and seemed better not to find out.
The sun was still rising, and larger buildings with canopies extending over their entrances and out into the street cast shadows covering most of the streets. Going through a more corrupt side of town, a taller man walked through with longer and more ragged blonde hair. People stared at him as he didn't have much on his upper body other than a leather brace, and his longsword on his back and one-handed battle axe held to his hip seemed to be intimidating. But the style of his wear was also interesting, as it wasn't typical of anyone in or around Xavport, most noticeably his green and white kilt that had little to no front, but a longer back that went down to his calves. Additionally, he had metal arm gauntlets, scratched and beaten from their use, but still intact. As he walked down, he took particular interest in an aged, rugged man scarred from numerous fights and much like a brute, receiving money from another man who was leaving the building he seemed to be guarding. The armed brute looked at him as if offended.
"What, do you find something amusing here?" he began to insinuate as he walked over with a large maul. His weapon's end seemed to be stained with the blood of people who haven't heeded to his warnings.
"It was nothing..." the young man replied, turning away sluggishly.
"What do you mean nothing? You obviously want something looking at other people's business," the bulky guard continued. As he continued is instigating, he took two steps and put his hand on the shoulder of the man and spun him around.
"You don't want to fight me," the guard was told.
"It won't be a fight!" the guard hotheadedly exclaimed, bringing his maul over head and whipping it down at the foreigner. However, it seemed to be easily dodged with one simple step to the side, and as he grabbed his one-handed axe, the guard whipped his maul to the side at the man. With just enough time to see it coming, the man put his hands on the blunt weapon, struggling to stop it at first, but he asserted his strength. Swiftly, he kicked the guards knee and grabbed the neck of the maul, wrenching it from his hands. As the guard panicked to stop the worsening of his situation, he went to kick his victim as hard as he could, but his shin was met by a sweep of the man's axe.
"Agh!" he yelled, catching more attention than was already attracted. His stomach was then jabbed by the maul's handle, and as the man flipped the maul around as best he could with one hand, he thrusted it forward into the guard's chest, sending him flat on his back.
"You're right, it won't be a fight," he said in a snarky manner to his attacker. "Don't ever try that again." He tossed the maul forward onto the ground, and turned his back on the site of his battle, and began to walk away. Even after he left, people still stood around as if dumbfounded, never seeing anyone defeat a guard like that, then walk on as if it wasn't anything all that accomplishing.
"You're saying he went into the city?"
"Yes! Take my word for it, please, there isn't much more you can take from me now!" a bartender pleaded, his tavern ruined with broken tables, shattered glass, splintered chairs, and a man in a black robe interrogating him with a wanted poster of a man with longer blonde hair, a longsword and one-handed axe. Letting the civilian cower in fear behind his bar, the robed man exited the building. Outside, in a rather small village not too far away from Xavport, a covered wagon carried forth by horses waited for the man. Three armored soldiers waited for him, guarding the wagon and in charge of the horses. One of the soldiers was carrying a crate to the covered wagon, laden with foodstuffs. The robed man proceeded past his wagon and looked outwards.
The village was atop a hill, and had an excellent view of the urban development known as Xavport, and the seas beyond. Beyond Raem there were yet more mountains, days of travel away from Xavport even on horseback.
"So where to now, Chrolus?" a soldier asked.
"To the port. That is where we will find Talmar. Now we haven't much time, he'll be there at least one day I suspect. He's been traveling as much as he can, I'm sure he's tired," Chrolus, the robed man answered. He turned back to his men and took put his hood down. He was young, and his eyes seemed as if they could pierce and shatter souls. He had short black hair, and concealed the rest of his figure with his robe.
"Now, we proceed onward. C'mon now, we haven't time to lose."