As the newly appointed guardsman walked down the battlement, he tried to compose his thoughts.
Sandpoint had been quieter, things like this just didn’t happen there. Occasional troubles with goblins, and drunkards, but that was it. Sandpoint was a quiet place. Or it had been, at least, until the giants came. And like it had everytime, memories of the conflicting orders came to his mind. Sheriff Hemlock had ordered all guards to man the gates, and fight to the last. The so-called Heroes of Sandpoint shouted for everyone to flee to the docks. Fight and die, or flee like a coward, that was the choice.
And Garret had fled to the boats. He was one of the lucky ones, getting out before they burnt.
The memories of that day stayed in his mind until he reached the Captain’s door. “Captain Theodoric ! Message for you.”
“Come in.” Theodoric was a large middle-aged man who was no stranger to battle. Clad from head to toe in battered plate, he was standing behind a table covered in maps, with a glowing greatsword laying across them to keep them flat.
Theodoric raised a small ring in his large hand, peering through it at Garret. Once he was satisfied with whatever he saw, he put the ring away. “Speak”.
“Visitors, sir. They wish to speak with you.”
“The gates are closed. We cannot feed the people we have, we cannot take any more”
“Um, they flew over the gate, sir, and remain suspended in mid-air. As your orders, the archers fired on them, but our arrows burnt up before they reached their target”
“What! Why was no alarm sounded?” Theodoric grabbed his sword, lifting it clear of the table with one mailed hand. As he did so, the many maps and scrolls scattered across the room, returning to their original shapes. “Such fell magic must be the work of the undead!”
“Sir, they have a flag of parley.” Garret reflected on how long the guards would last against a trio of flying, arrow-proof attackers, but said nothing. “And one of them said to specifically to fetch you, sir. I didn’t understand much else, he’s got an accent.”
“Fire magic and an accent? Did he have orange robes? Dark skin?”
“Yes sir. He’s not from around here, that’s for sure. Do you really know him?”
“I do. He’s an Osiriani wizard. He’ll have what we need.” Theodoric sheathed his greatsword across his back and scowled as he prepared to parley with the visitors. With a rare flash of inspiration, he removed his seven-pointed star necklace from beneath his armor, switching its place with that of his holy symbol.
“Captain, isn’t that a good thing? The gods know we need the food, and much else.”
“Hmph. You haven’t seen his prices.”