The skies were gray and were soon turning dark. The winter sun was low however early the afternoon may be still. Snow began to fall again and restored to the land a pristine whiteness as the riverside winds breezed over roofs and were sieved through alleyways and streets. As if the atmosphere had disintegrated and the universe was descending unto their heads, the cold air was sharp on their skin. Carefully treading, the cityfolk hurried, their noses beginning to redden and their joints stiffening. Over the cobbled roads submerged beneath the ice, not knowing where the path began and where the gutters ended, they returned from their daily callings to the embrace of their homes. The doors to rows of town houses closed and locked, its shops beneath or between such buildings clearing down after another quiet day of trade. Seeing away their final customers who were mostly soldiers, the people anticipated an ancient tradition that awaited them the following day: a day of rest. Curtains drew and fireplaces warmed, the indoors lit with lamps and candles that transformed the city into one radiating light. Embers flickered, large braziers burned atop towers and walls, in squares and on boats. The roaring flames served as beacons for the garrisoned military but there was little need to care for anything beyond their walls lately. Few patrols marched up and down the streets, rather as a form of exercise, passing by many checkpoints keeping order. The local militia and their guest army were joined together, to defend their homes, leaving no corner uncharted. They helped the needy whenever they could, when war did not call. It was the beginnings of winter. Armies would camp themselves on fallow ground waiting to recover from the blood it had soaked from spring to autumn. But for some children, war was always present.
Racing down the street of Seding, a fortress city on the River Wada that stood as a bridge between two great rivaling kingdoms, two boys in their village garbs skidded and slipped. They were not of the city and even if they were, like those their age, their parents or guardians would have sent them away, far from the frontlines, for their safety and their life. The eldest towed the youngest by his hand, their feet were quick, ignoring the warnings of ununiformed soldiers waving at them to be careful. However careless the pair were on the unpredictable ice and snow, their urgency did not relent. In the evening scene, few civilians ventured outdoors, and in such weather, most would rather be sheltered behind their thick walls and sturdy roofs. But they had just returned, coming from the bridge that led east towards occupied land. Through buildings they weaved, the boys followed the street north until the road opened up. A burst of wind was blasted their faces and their bodies staggered. Finding themselves on an avenue that led along the river downstream, they fought their way against the frequent gusts. From their hindered vision, they could make out the abandoned boats which were anchored at bay with some sunk or scrapped, without anymore a use to the citizens who relied upon trade from nearby villages since the outbreak of war. Before them were numberless soldiers drilling along the bank. Nearing their destination, more messengers rode in and out, runners dispatched, from what became the heart of the hive, a standalone building overlooking the river with its imposing style. Its architecture surpassed, in glory, anything else in the city. On the brick gothic elements of a cathedral-sized hall, an astronomical clock was mounted high above, though it was at the base of a tower and its spire that extended out of the roof and reached for the heavens. The boys crossed the street, paying no attention to the structure, caring instead to avoid the trotting horses and wagons fleeting north and south. Leaping up a block of stairs, skipping over every other step, they passed by soldiers who were confused by their appearance. Their chatter stopped and their eyes stared, wondering who it was that gave these children permission to enter, yet they did nothing to prevent their entry. When the boys rushed inside, they stood within an interior unlike what its facade should have implied.
The stationary and material art piece of historic architects was a town hall. Carved within it was an expanse lobby, packed and loud. But the persons were not councillors nor burghers. As if every regiment and their representatives had been summoned, their voices drove the machine that formed the core of the city’s defense. Behind one doorway, there were crowds more in a mess hall, once a church, and through another was an armory. The administrative divisions and offices had been transformed into an army’s headquarters fit for a man who held the rank of general. Over the smooth tiled floor, a humble chandelier hung, but the hundreds of lanterns that surrounded the walls produced enough light for its residents to mistaken it as forever day. The upper floor was higher than usual with an open balcony corridor running along its edge. Low walls guarded its rooms, fashioned with holes for rifles to fit through in times of defense. Then, in the center, every part of the building was joined by a grand staircase.
Despite their clothes being soaked in melted snow, the two boys hurried, their shoes squelching and leaving a wet trail as they sought to climb the stairs. But when they placed a foot on the first step, they both felt a soft tap on their shoulders. Pausing, thinking that perhaps it was finally due time to answer a curious soldier who wondered what their purpose was in being there, the pair spun around, ready to splurt out their words that they had long rehearsed. However, they realized that it was no stranger’s face.
“The snow’s been harsh on you two.” Julien, the only uniformed soldier around, noticed their shivers when they stood still. “Go get changed before you catch a cold.” He suggested, at the foot of the stairs too, before the boys took another step.
The two looked down at their clothes, their minds less aware than their bodies had been that they had been soaked. It was for the best they thought, and without a word, they obeyed as instructed, hurrying off the steps and scurrying past the waves of soldiers washing on the shores of the stairs. The corporal watched them filter themselves through the crowd, into the armory, as their heads sunk beneath the many until they were no more in his sight, seeing the ripples of the path they took. With a slight smile, Julien turned away, continuing on upstairs, cradling a set of documents tied into a file. Following the railings, the Danner took the shortest path possible not to obstruct the officers who ran up and down the rough stone steps. After a short hike, he had reached the second floor, and all that was on the floor under him had shrunken, but the height of the balcony made him uneasy. Moving closer to the wall where a pair of doors to a room opened, he made way for a group of captains and lieutenants to exit first, passing by him who saluted them. Their eyes were however fixated on their notes, discussing the meeting that they had just partaken. The corporal slipped past them before the doors could shut on him and entered the chamber which he often felt as though he did not quite belong.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf9uGaTTlh5
