Outside the stronghold, oblivious to the anguish that had just unfolded within its walls----and indeed, to any of the world's sorrows----the birds soared.
They navigated the vast expanse of blue, truly free, going wherever their whim took them, until they flew into the sun, their small bodies engulfed by its blinding light.
...
Meanwhile, far to the south, a boy on horseback galloped through thick, clinging mud. The wind, a wild sculptor, whipped through his golden-brown hair and the horse's coarse mane.
"Tch! I hate this!" he muttered, a bitter taste clinging to the back of his throat.
Damn father!
Could've just sent a messenger for this!
The jostling stride of the animal beneath him sent a jarring hiccup through his chest. Each upward lurch of the horse sent a fresh wave of discomfort through his already simmering irritation.
The rhythmic plop-plop-plop of its hooves against the mud was a monotonous counterpoint to the growing frustration in his gut. Muscles rippled beneath the horse's hide, taut and powerful.
The reins, however, remained slack, offering no more guidance than tangled weeds. Every tug he gave the stubborn animal was met with a defiant toss of its dense head.
The world around him was shrouded in a blurry canvas of white----a thick, clinging mist that swallowed the edges of the path. The already muted gray sky faded into nothingness, leaving only the damp, heavy air that filled his nose, each breath tasting of moisture and the earthy scent of the mud below.
When am I getting closer to this damn town?
"Hyahh!" He flicked the reins even harder. The beast's muscles bulged further, its veins so thick they seemed to pulse with the rush of a river, while the wind hitting his face intensified.
I never knew that it could go this faster than before.
The sword in its sheath clanked in rhythm to the gallops, the bags on its saddle waved wildly, seeming on the verge of falling off at any moment.
Then, slightly farther in the mist, a sign materialized off to the side. The words were unreadable at first, a distant blur.
Finally! A sign! It reads uhhh… Let me get closer to it first.
*Plop-plop…* *Plop-plop…* *Plop-plop…*
He drew closer, the words slowly resolving themselves: "Slov," accompanied by a drawing of a horse with a pickaxe and shovel forming a cross behind it.
Yes, I'm at Slov! Now no more wasting time…
...Zara's waiting for me.
The animal strode against the mud, tearing at it viciously as it galloped along the path and past a wooden gate on the verge of collapse, held together by sheer will and a few desperate nails and ropes.
*Plop-plop…*
*Brrrrfff.*
The horse flicked its tail in the air as the boy pulled on the reins.
This stubborn piece of shit!
Stop, goddamnit!
*Nyeeeigh!*
*Brfff!*
The air grew thick with the cloying stench of stagnant water, and a faint, vaguely fecal hint.
The murky puddles below reflected the boy's long, light brown cape, and the dark purple shirt beneath, made of the finest fabric. The shirt was dotted with his clan's crest: twin snakes with their backs facing each other, the gap between them forming a perfect circle.
As he passed a shallow puddle, his reflection was cast there.
Hehe.
The sight makes the water much more better.
The buildings sagged under the weight of dampness, their lower levels stained a uniform brown that crept up to the very edges of the roofs. The brickwork in some parts showed clear signs of poor craftsmanship, and the boy, noticing all this, grimaced.
Damn… Well… Though I shouldn't be surprised.
This is truly a testament to the filth these commoners live in.
But at least, couldn't they try their best? Even if it will be worthless?
A woman, her child clinging to her sodden skirt, trudged past the boy as the horse finally began to move more slowly. All the commoners' eyes were on him, as if he were one of the gods----his entire dressing and carriage starkly contrasted with their own.
Their faces were etched with a weariness that seemed to transcend their years, mud splattered against their bare feet.
Heh! Utterly disgusting…
Don't these people have the smallest amount of pride whatsoever?
And uhhhgn…
That smell…
The boy reached into the satchel on his waist as he rode along, coins clinking as paper rustled, until his fingers found the soft cloth.
Ah, there it is.
He removed a piece of clean cloth and put it directly over his nose as his horse passed by a group of people.
WHIP!
"Hey! Hey!"
"Get back to work!" Someone barked while a whip danced in the air.
---The end of chapter 7---