Chapter 1: Rombol 1.1: Entering Rombol

A young man comes to the city to escape village life.

Chapter 1: Rombol

Chapter 1.1: Entering Rombol

It was mid-afternoon. Jarl was told that Rombol was just over the top of the next hill, a long and high hill. He'd been climbing for at least a mile now. Not too steep, thankfully, but it just seems to keep going up. He was looking forward to seeing the city and apprenticing to Baker Gremmell. It's not like he wants to become a baker or a chef, but he didn't want to be a farmer either. His Pa said he might try becoming one of the King's Defenders, but since the

Wilfreng was a small village. Since leaving Jarl was beginning to believe it was the smallest village there was. It did not even have an inn. His life there was to live on his Pa's farm for several more years yet. Eventually, he might be allowed to start his own farm, after he had started a family and the village believed he was responsible enough to raise a family and handle the running a farm by himself. Jarl was restless. He felt like his remote little corner of the world was somewhat boring. The only interesting things that ever happened all happened in stories about events lost in some distant past. People avoided going too far into the Forest of Painted Trees because of the Great Boars. That, at least, was real. Few attempted to take on those huge beasts and when they did it was in groups, and then only because one was becoming a danger to the community.

As Jarl topped the hill he started to see the tops of buildings. He realized this was the grand city of Rombol, the capital of Shurm. It made his village seem small. It made the three towns he passed through to get here look small. Heck, they would look small if they were all together and spread out compared to Rombol. It was huge. easily five miles from end to end, starting from the Great Sea to the west and following the Giant's Breath River toward the east. He had just topped a large hill coming out of the previous valley, which name he did not know, and there is was. Hitching his backpack back on this his shoulder, Jarl examined the grand city displayed before him. There were odd pieces of a wall in areas. He was just high enough to see over the roof tops of most buildings. The outer portion of the city sprawled every which way while the inner portion was all straight lines. Buildings everywhere were crammed together, each one right up next to its neighbor. Most were painted white. Some in other colors, like green, or stained in the wood's natural color. There were people everywhere. Even with all the farms Jarl passed on the way in, he could never have imagined so many people living so close together. There were several fishing boats all along the portion of the river he could see, and Jarl thought he could see many more heading out to sea and following the coast.

Finally seeing the city made him forget how tired and hungry he was. He had decided to save his money and not stay at an inn last night, in case he had trouble finding work. Instead he found a farm that was willing to let him sleep in the barn in trade for a few chores. That was the common way for travelers afoot. Villages with inns tended to be about a day's travel apart, by horse. By foot it was more like three or four. Jarl found more villages the closer he got to Rombol, though, and their prices went up as well. There were more travelers on the road, too, both by foot and by horse. After Hemly the coaches started showing up. They were hauled by a team of horses, much like a large cart carrying a heavy load, but they carried only passengers and their bags. All the drivers of these vehicles, coach and cart alike, became rude and careless toward travelers on foot. If Jarl had not jumped out of the way fast enough the first time he was certain he would have been trampled, driven over and left for dead. Yell as he might, the only responses he got were curses, and the whip if he was close enough.

Jarl was supposed to find Baker Gremmell in the North Road neighborhood, near the North Gate. Gremmell was a cousin and was usually willing and able to help people coming to the city find work in his bakery, or elsewhere if need be. Gremmell always knew someone who could afford another hand, his father used to say. The North Gate was part of the old defense wall. Most of that wall had been torn down, everyone knew that, even in Wilfreng. He could see parts of it here and there. Most of it looked like someone had decided to build a tall and short wall, in comparison at least, then build right up against it. A couple of sections were broken in places, missing a corner or a portion of the top or a side. If he were not looking for it, he would think it was just the stone side of a very tall building.

Jarl was moving down the hill and moving closer, the pieces of the wall moved out of view. He could see signs now, butcher, baker, spices, apothecary, etc. People were everywhere in dressed in a wide variety of clothes. Shop keepers generally had on a plain brown tunic and stocking. If food venders also had on an apron, a dirty apron if they were selling meat or something messy. Many of the people moving about were shopping and most were wearing plain brown tunic and stockings as well. Some had on lighter shades. A people wore colors of blue or green or red in different shades, women more often than. They sometimes seemed odd standing next to each other or next to people with plain brown, but no one seemed to notice or care. Few wore cloaks or coats, and those that did were merchants or the Defenders. Merchants tended to have coats with stripes going in all manner of direction, sometimes crisscrossing at various points. There was no pattern to it that Jarl could see. Occasionally, a noble's carriage passed by. Once, a noble stepped out. He was dressed similar to the merchants but with lace coming out of the cuffs and neck of his coat. Inside the coach he could see two women, and thought he heard another man's voice, but with low rumble of the market it was impossible to tell. The women also had lace in cuff and neck, along the hems of their dresses as well. They left just as quickly as they had stopped. Jarl continued taking in the sights of the market. Most dresses had some embroidery and even some men's tunics had embroidery. It was odd because none of the men back home had embroidery in their tunics. He also noticed that the more elaborate the colors, the more extensive and complex the embroidery.

There were 4 Defenders walking from the other side of the market place. People gave them a wide berth. Defenders went by the same name everywhere, as far as Jarl knew. Like most Defenders, three of them carried spears in hand and a sword at their belt. One carried only the sword but with a newer hilt and in a new scabbard. He must be an officer because he also wore some type of small, purple tassel on the front of each should, unlike those following him, Perhaps he was a captain. They were easily identified by pale blue cloaks with the white trim and by their sturdy knee-high boots, but mostly by the mail they wore like a tunic, over a pale blue tunic and stocking, and by their weapons. These defenders walked about like they were looking for trouble and expecting to find it everywhere they looked. The defenders that came to Wilfreng also tended to look like they were wary of trouble but not like these fellows. When they looked his way he could not help but look somewhere else, as if they would think he was doing something wrong just by being there.

All the people moving about the market made for slow going, especially with the nobles' coaches and the carts, empty or loaded with goods, trying to push their way through. The drivers were not cracking their whips here like out on the roads leading to Rombol. Perhaps they recognized that there were only going injure everyone in front of them, or perhaps the Defenders would not let them. Jarl kept to the side, avoiding the merchant stalls as much as the carts and coaches. Venders called here and there trying to entice more customers their way. Aromas of every kind; fish, meat, fowl, perfume, and spices mixed with others he was unsure of. It made him hungry but he kept going. He wanted to get Gremmell's before dark.

Thinking of Gremmell reminded Jarl of his father and of Wilfreng. Wilfreng was the northern bank of the Western River with the Great Forest on the other side. The elders said that it was practically half way between the Boar's Back and the Great Sea. Merchants did stop by from time to time. Most came by boat on their from Rombol via the Great Sea to the town of Indorl, which existed solely because of the Northern Pass and the fort there. On rare occasions a merchant came by the road leading south and had to use the old wood bridge. Jarl spent many hours fishing off that bridge with his baby sister, Wilfa. He missed Wilfa. He missed Ma and Pa and all his brothers and sisters and cousins and nieces and aunts and uncles too, but he missed Wilfa the most. Wilfa was the baby of the family. Jarl was the second youngest of 11, barely a year older. The next youngest, Strefan, was 4 years older and his oldest sibling, Jonst, was 15 years older than him. Wilfa and Jarl spent much of their youth together or with Jonst's eldest Borfl, since he were about the same age.

As he was coming to what appeared to be a housing district someone stepped up to him, seemingly out of nowhere. Without the people in the market place he could not be sure, but Jarl could swear the guy had not been there earlier. He was tall, as tall as Jarl. If he had been there earlier, Jarl would have noticed him, right? Even if he wasn't paying close attention. The fellow wore a long, dark brown robe over a very slim frame, perhaps bony. His cowl was up, hiding his face in shadow. Jarl had the impression that there was more shadow than there should be for this time of day. He could make out an indistinct face and nothing more. Just the same, Jarl had the impression he had seen the man somewhere before. "You," murmured the man. His voice was a low rasp. With all the noise around them Jarl should not have been able to hear him, but his words were clear enough. "You are seeking work." He said it like it was a matter of fact. Before Jarl could respond he murmured again, "Seek the Surveyor," Then he turned and left, leaving Jarl standing there with his jaw open still trying to think of something to say.

The fellow was all ready rounding a corner before Jarl found his voice, yelling to try to the get man's attention. He did not stop and was gone just like that. Jarl ran after him. The strange man had had no problem moving through the crowd but Jarl was having to squeeze between people, apologizing as he went. When he finally got to the corner the man was nowhere in sight. Jarl kept looking around the street, even looking for a door or another corner the man might have turned around, but it was just an empty dead-end alley with only a dog that was attempting to sleep out the heat of the day. It raised its head to look at him then went back to sleep.

Jarl went back to the street, heading further into Rombol. The crowds continued to thin as he left the market behind. The streets were wide. There were still seemed to be more people in about than occupied his home village. It was still bright out but Jarl could tell the sun was going down even if it was hidden by the houses. The strange man remained on his mind. He had never experienced anything like it. What was a surveyor? How was he supposed to find someone he had never heard of before? He passed an inn in his musings. The sign was painted with the image of a horse kicking a man who had all but flown off the edge of the sign, with only his rear end to suggest that he had been there in the first place. It had letters underneath that Jarl could not read. Judging from the ruckus inside, the Kicking Mule sounded like an apt name. He kept moving and kept thinking. Pa had said that the inner city had straight streets and was well laid out. It would be easier to find the North Road from the Hemly Road by heading for the inner city then heading toward the coast, the North Road would be the last major thoroughfare before the Poor Quarter and the docks, keeping an eye out for the Baker's Double Dozen, the name of Gremmell's shop. It would be right on the street, a sign of how successful he was. Like most craftsmen in the city, Gremmell lived above it, If the baker will take Jarl on as an apprentice then he'll help find a place to stay somewhere, probably with some of his other apprentices.

The North East Gate was not really a gate. Just two very tall columns with a small just opposite of the street, perhaps part of the old wall before it was torn down. In its place was a small street. Wider than the alleys he passed on the way but not as wide as the street he was on. He remembered someone mentioning the North East Road and figured it got its name from the North East Gate, or perhaps the gate got its name from the road. The small street headed west, toward the coast and his goal. The next street looked to be a quarter mile farther south. His decision made, Jarl turned west. This street was better lit do to the lack of shadows. Fewer people roamed this street and several eyed him before passing on. The houses looked much the same, Though some walls needed new paint and if a door or a window was in need of repair, at least it was still operational. The people tended to be dressed plainer as well. Rather, some wore clothes that and smelled like they were in need of cleaning, and some in need of repair. Their owners were often no better off. Like most Shurmians, everyone had brown hair and brown eyes in different shades. A couple of people seemed to be almost as tall as Jarl. Most stooped a little. It was kind of depressing.

He had just passed the opening of a dark alley, one hidden by the shade of a tall house, when he was roughly yanked into the alley way, pulled off his feet and dragged was more like it. Before he could gain his footing again and start to defend himself he was pummeled and kicked from two sides. He tried to cover himself but he couldn't cover both side at once. Someone kicked his head and everything went hazy. There was some yelling, like someone yelling to "Stop that!" The blows stopped coming. There were sounds like grunts and more fighting then he heard "Get out of here!" The voice was clearer now. He could make out shapes. A hand grabbed his arm near the shoulder and lifted him to a sitting position. "Are you all right lad?" Jarl shook his head a little to clear it. Seemed to make things worse but he could see now. The man holding him was older, much older, and not an overly large man. His face was hard, with several small scars here there, include crossing the top of the bridge of his crooked nose, Despite his gruff appearance, he exuded self-confidence like it was a natural part of him. Again, he asked if Jarl was all right. Jarl nodded and tried to stand up. He needed the man's help but he stood and remained standing.

"Thank you," Jarl replied looking around to see if anyone else was going to attack them. The picking up his backpack and putting it back on his shoulder, if a bit stiffly. "Why did they do that? I was just walking down the street not bothering anyone. Next thing I know I'm getting beat on from both sides." Rubbing his back to try to ease the pain of kicks to his back, Jarl remembered his father warning him to stick to the main thoroughfares. Wasn't this street one of those?

"Hmpph! The Defenders patrol the larger streets but they only look down these in passing. Despite the King's efforts to maintain the peace elsewhere, he does not ask for the same in his own city. They keep the peace well enough but people coming in here are usually on their own, unless they're lucky enough for a defender to be passing within sight" he replied, standing with his hand resting on this sword. "That's why they pulled you in here. No one who likely is to stop them is likely to be happening by while they're at it. You're just lucky I noticed you walking in here. You didn't look the type to be roaming these streets. Probably why they chose you, a bumpkin new to the city may not have much but it's usually enough to make it worth the effort, even if they only get your boots."

My boots? Everyone back home always had on a good, sturdy pair of boots. The cobbler always made sure you could have a decent pair even if you could not pay him right then. He always said that a man did better quality work in good boots and that meant it was easier on everyone to pay him back after than to work suffer beforehand. Fortunately, it was rare that anyone did not have something to settle debts with upfront except when the harvest was exceedingly poor that year. "What's a bumpkin?"

"That's you, lad." The man was almost laughing as he spoke. It seemed somehow odd to see a smile on that hard face. "You were gawking about like you've never seen a city before, like most yokels coming from the far countryside. Lads like you come to the city rather than work on their pa's farm or remain in their little, out of the way village." Apparently not caring if Jarl appeared insulted, the man hmphed again, looked around then waved his hand for Jarl to follow and he started walking back toward the North East Road. Before Jarl could gather his thoughts for another question the man continued "Don't just stand there. Those two are likely going for help. I'm going to be elsewhere, you should as well."

Jarl stammered "Uh, yeah, good idea, I guess." Remembering how little he knew of the city Jarl added "Do you know how to get to North Gate. I'm looking for The Baker's Double Dozen. My Pa said Baker Gremmell might be able to take me on as an apprentice."

"I'm heading that way so come on if you want to follow," The man all but commanded as he continued on. Jarl hurried to catch up. The man kept a quick pace. As they walked the appeared to pay no more attention to Jarl than he did to anyone else. He carried himself somewhat stiffly, and not because of his slight limp. He moved as if he expected people to move out of his way, and they usually did. He kept a quick pace as well, his cloak almost flowing behind him, despite the limp. There was definitely something familiar about him. Jarl's mind was still a bit foggy. He hurt in various areas but nothing appeared broken or bleeding. It was an effort to keep up with the man.

Author's Note

Edited a little, broke the chapter down

Reviews

[Wolfwind]

You've got a good work in progress here. Other than a few typos and a couple of comma issues, there wasn't much in the way of grammar that was out of place. In this first chapter I found that the main character is presented well, the names of people are unique, yet basic enough that they don't choke the mind while getting into the plot of the story. The flow of this chapter comes across to me as a bit on the slow side, but that's normal when a storyline is more cerebral. Your descriptions are very strong, and you paint the background well with your words. The one thing that I felt was lacking was the emotional undertones that one normally finds in characters. I had a hard time identifying with the characters feelings.
Overall though it's a good entry into something that holds potential. Keep up the ink, I'll be curious to see where it goes.

Aaron

[TomEYou]

I'm glad you liked it. I'll work on the feelings part.