Rextoret
top kek
Am Manadh de Eòlas
Caden looked over the docks of Kilbride, watching the comings and goings of the merchants, sailors, soldiers, and travelers. They bustled all around, the merchants arguing with citizens over the prices of their goods, sailors rushing around to make repairs to their ships, naval commanders barking orders to their subordinates, and all the various travelers wandering around. They came from all over, speaking in their foreign tongues and accents.
He didn't stand out much in his typical village boy clothes of browns and greens. He didn't carry much, just a 6 foot staff carried on his shoulder with a bag tied around the end to hold his few possessions and meager sum of money. The makeshift bindle was awkward, but it worked. The boy held himself awkwardly, fidgeting every now and then - scratching his neck or biting his nails as he observed the going-ons around him.
He loved watching all the foreigners. They sped around in their different garbs. Some wore vibrant colors, others wore pitch black. Some wore the bare minimum, some even less. Some were wrapped up head-to-toe, nary an inch of skin in sight. At their waists hung weapons of different cultures, curved blades, sickles attached to chains with weights at their ends, straight swords, hammers and axes, and everything else imaginable.
Caden walked down the street, tore between anger at the monks of Nodsta that he had left behind and the astonishment he felt at all those who walked down the street with him. "Not even the largest city...", he mumbled to himself. He had always wanted to adventure far and wide, to see everything that no one else in his tiny village had ever seen. He spent 18 years of his life waiting for this chance and he wasn't going to let some monks dictate how he'd spend his life.
He had always admired the monks, of course. Their wisdom left him in awe and their combat skills were a perfect balance of aggressiveness and passivity. He wanted so badly to be one of them, to twirl around the courtyards of Nodsta dodging every falling snowflake. But they had said he was "too conflicted", "too rash", "too unsure of himself". So he left. Caden had had enough of fetching water for the monks he could never join. So he left, to pursue his other great aspiration: adventure. To leave the safety of his small fishing village, and now it was to leave the walls of Nodsta.
So he had come to Kilbride, to board a ship and find his fortune somewhere in Argylle. He walked down the street, looking for a ship to take him anywhere. He picked the closest one. The man by the gangplank told him this one went to Dornach. Brief memories of his teacher mentioning it in geography class back in the small shack in Aviemore flashed through his mind. Close to the capital, he recalled. He gave the man a handful of coins, getting two back as change. Up the gangplank he went.
Once he was on the deck of the cog, he went down into the hold where he stashed his bindle in a corner for the short trip to Dornach. Having done so, he went back up to the deck and leaned on side of the ship, letting the wind blow through his wavy black hair as his deep blue eyes took everything in. The sailors on the ship were rushing around, and it seemed like the ship was about to take off.
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