Zand noticed a rather strong presence of city watch in the area. The caravan was outside the walls, but it was not uncommon for there to be some guards watching over the merchants and travelers camped outside. But there were far more now, and it looked like they were waiting for something. He started counting, but after reaching fifty it seemed unnecessary.
Zand ducked his head into the wagon, “Flonk, get out here. Something is going on.”
He may not like the man, but at least they wore the same color. Figuratively, at least, as their actual robes were of varying hues. Zand kept watching as the number of guards increased. Flank exited looking like he had dressed in the dark, his robe was twisted and his head wrap was loose.
“What? You see a butterfly and wet yourself? I keep telling you they’re harmless,” Flask said.
“I… Just look over there,” Zand motioned to the walls. “What do you suppose they need fifty or more guards for? I’m gonna go tell the commander that something weird is going on.”
Fork turned to look where and saw the sheer number of armed men. They were easily identified by the yellow flourishes on their armor, and some wore yellow capes. His eyes went cold and narrow. His breathing changed and he reached for his sword, only he wasn’t wearing it while in costume.
“Yeah, you better let him know. I’m going to notify some of the other men to be on alert. I’ll say that some suspicious characters have been walking around. Don’t want to start a war if I don’t have to,” Fernk said to Zand.
Zand was surprised by the change in the man’s demeanor, but didn’t have time to study him. Triple-checking to make sure his armor wasn’t showing, he walked as quickly as he could without actually breaking into a run. He found the commander’s tent soon enough, but the commander was no where to be found.
***********************
The commander neared the gates, but stopped when he saw the city watch filing out toward the caravan. There were other groups out there, which would buy some time. Unfortunately, going out the same gate would arouse too much suspicion as all non-guard traffic had stopped. There was another gate, but he worried he would be too late. He broke into a trot and headed for the other way out.
He wound his way through the crowds, past vendor stalls, between buildings. The wall was close, he could see it in the distance. He crashed into a portly, older man wearing what might be finery (it was hard to tell these days), knocking him over. The commander mumbled his apologies and continued.
“Come back here! I demand restitution! You have ruined my finest silk robe! Guards! Guards!” the old man yelled from the ground.
The commander had no time to waste, his men were depending upon him. Finally, the wall. He looked back and forth. Where was the gate?
“Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Where is the gate? I was told it was this way,” the commander said to a child playing in the dirt.
The child looked up at him and said, “You look funny,” before resuming his game.
The commander looked about and spotted a woman and her child walking with some wrapped packages. He approached and asked about the gate. The woman told him that he was on the wrong side of the town. She pointed toward the main gate which he was avoiding and to the beggar’s gate across town. He thanked her and began his trek. Suddenly he remembered the old man yelling for the guards. While there was the issue outside the gates, surely some would remain inside to maintain order. He took a wide path around where he last saw the old man, just in case.
***********************
What looked like the captain of the guard appeared and began addressing the city watch that had gathered outside the wall. After a few minutes, he turned and headed back behind the walls, while the rest fanned out and began inspecting wagons and questioning people. Fisk balled his fists and swallowed hard. He didn’t know why, but he had a bad feeling.
Zand asked everyone he saw about the commander’s whereabouts. Finally, he found someone that said the commander had gone into town to obtain supplies. Zand found it weird the commander would be the one to procure supplies. He figured there must be someone else to handle such mundane tasks.
“Zam, I got a bad feeling about this. Maybe they think we’re an invading army, like scouts or sabotagers, or something,” Frik said to Zand.
Zand was about to correct the man on his name, but then felt a little hypocritical as he didn’t know his name either. But bonehead was right, that must be the problem. Somehow it must have gotten out that they weren’t actually merchants but rather a militia, but they left off the part about being on the hunt for bandits. Oh, if only the commander were around to sort out this mess.
“I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. We just need the commander to explain our presence and it’ll blow over,” Zand hoped out loud.
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