Eventually Nemean had to travel to the capital and I felt like writing something a bit more uplifting. This was the result, hope you enjoy it hehe.
The Sable Lion in the City of Lions
Earlier in the day they had come upon a small caravan from the Perdan mines. Several of their carts had been overloaded and during their journey had broken down. Taking the opportunity to get to know the locals, Nemean had ordered his men to aid the merchants. Two in particular were useful in this regard as they were sons of a carpenter, brothers and both more than happy to put in their hands wood rather than steel for a while. As the carts were being mended Nemean had spend time conversing with the caravan master. A stern man of advancing age. Fortunately that was mostly exterior and they soon laughed as they compared Northern Silver with Southern silver. Clearly the man held great contempt for the ''pewter'' of the north. It was an easy subject to joke about and while the man didn't recognize Nemean's banner he was remarkably laconic.
As the carts were made serviceable again the caravan was doubly grateful to learn that they'd gained a Noble escort. ''Don't mention it.'' Nemean had said amicably. ''We're both headed for Perdan city.'' Bandits and raiding had drastically reduced the amount of goods getting through to the capital. As they continued the journey, burned out hovels only doused by occasional rainfall were passed by, more frequently than either party would've liked. The caravan master glanced at Nemean's banner every so often as they did and it made the younger man feel uneasy.
Past the midday hour the group came across a great, brown mass on the road. One of the forward scouts returned to report that it was alive. ''Careful sire, I believe it is a bear.'' The captain of Nemean's unit frowned. She was expert at the expression and it could scold a man's pride as much as a full blown insult could. Something that Nemean at times envied. A slurry grunt could be heard as the group approached the supposed bear. A deep heave followed. Was that a burp?
With the distance reduced it became clear the bear, it was indeed a bear, was camping near the site of some wreckage. It huffed and pawed lazily at the debris. Clearly looking for something but either with immense disinterest or this was one clumsy bear. Big broken wagon. Disemboweled ox in front of it. A shredded leather tarp, presumably it had served to cover the wagon. Nemean continued to study the trashed site from a distance. A few crates and.. strewn about, broken casks. Somewhere below it he spotted several intact casks. Clearly the bear was trying to get to them but failed miserably. It's frustrated grunts and panting coupled with its terrible coordination began to make sense suddenly. It was drunk. A drunk bear. The smell of Mead wafted on the air, sweet and inviting. Certainly to the bear it had.
Nemean sighed. ''Wide berth, I don't want to mess with that bear.'' His warriors obeyed as did the merchants. The bear, way too late, realized he wasn't alone. It managed a slurred roar. Interrupted as it was with a hiccup. In its intoxicated state it tried to strike a menacing pose but only managed to briefly stand on all fours before veering far to the right and tumbling into a shallow ditch. From which it uttered another pathetic hiccuppy roar. It sounded more like a plea this time or a self directed curse. The men muffled their chuckles. Which the bear obviously picked up on and loudly burped at, surely it had meant something more imposing. Which only made the men burst out in laughter as they wiped tears from their eyes.
It was the talk the entire rest of the trip to the big city. People become fast friends when they come across drunk bears apparently. The fortress walls of the capital allowed them entry through the King's gate. It felt strange for Nemean to enter the capital. Was he following in his father's footsteps? Did he also enter through this gate? His eyes looked around and saw the sprawling harbor city. The caravan master touched him on the shoulder. ''Master Nemean, I thank you for the escort. I don't dare to imagine what might've happened if we had to face that bear alone.'' The mirth in his eyes made both men smirk. ''Say nothing of it.'' Nemean offered. ''It was a pleasure.'' The smirk grew larger. ''Alright then Master Nemean. We'll be off then. They'll be mightily pleased to receive a fresh batch of silver. Most caravans have either not made their runs outright or got ambushed.'' The mirth made way for a hint of greed. ''We'll get a pretty penny for our troubles.'' Looking at the young Noble for a moment, he resumed. ''I'll make sure they hear of the man that helped us.''
That concluded their exchange and they parted ways by shaking hands. The merchants went to the dockside area and Nemean directed his men towards the craggy hill that housed the most dominating feature of the entire city. The Palace and its Lion Guards. Legend held it originally was a ducal castle that over time and generations was expanded upon. Until it hardly resembled a stronghold at all anymore and truly grew into its current palatial appearance. Riding calmly through the city Nemean traversed the great promenade. A broad and opulent road lined with great alabaster statues of sitting lions. Proud, fierce and yet protective all at the same time. It all looked so magnificent. The warscape not ten leagues south of the city could just as well be a world away by comparison. It confused his mind even more why the North never made an assault on the Perdanese capital. Looking closely though, there were small signs. More beggars than usual. Food prices were inflated. Houses cramped with refugees. Many people looking for jobs. Yet it didn't dampen their spirits. If anything, the people rallied. They willingly aided one another and this sense of unity struck close to home for Nemean. Maybe that's what his father saw as well.
So the maturing Lion entered the city of his father and made his way to the palace.
