Ichor Cell-Chapter 41: Luterra I

Having spent more time than he cared to admit freeing the cart from its prison, Alex finally managed to drag it back onto the road. The whole process had been a pain in the ass, made all the more aggravating by Grenil and Duran’s running commentary.
“Come on!” The shopkeeper helpfully encouraged. “You can do it! Push harder!”
“Maybe if you got off the cart first!” Alex shouted back, glaring at the old man laid out on a pile of supplies in the back of the cart like a noble.
“I’m giving you an opportunity to do a good deed and help out the elderly.” Grenil waved him away. “Don’t complain.”
It’s a double good deed if you’re helping out a cripple at the same time.” Duran chimed in from beside him, before promptly climbing into the cart too.
Alex gritted his teeth and considered just leaving the cart there, but he unfortunately needed it just as much, if not more than the others. Funnelling his anger into something useful, he shoved the cart with renewed determination.
Once he freed the vehicle, he dragged it back to the road and they continued on their journey. The forest thinned as they made their way north, the heavy canopy breaking into scattered patches of open sky. The moon was sinking low, its light stretched pale across the flower-covered fields ahead.
Grenil leaned against the sideboard, sighing contentedly. “I think this is the first time we’ve gone more than a few hours without someone trying to kill us.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Alex tensed up, eyes flicking around in alarm.
Grenil rolled his eyes. “My saying something will not spawn pursuers after us out of nowhere. Calm down.”
“Did you learn nothing from the dungeon?” Alex shot the old man an exasperated look. “All we did was comment on how nice the journey was, and then BAM, spite slammed us with a near death experience. What other proof do you need?”
Grenil grimaced. “Alright, fine. You may have a point. Happy?”
Alex grunted. “Ecstatic.”
They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the rhythmic creak of the cart’s wheels the only sound cutting through the cool night air.
Grenil stretched his arms over his head, groaning. “I’ll tell you something, lad; I’ve always liked the north. The air here feels different. Less like breathing through sand.”
“That’s because it’s about ten degrees cooler,” Alex said.
“No, no,” Grenil waved a hand lazily. “It’s more than that. Feels lighter somehow. Like the world stopped glaring at us.”
Duran stared at the tarp ceiling, unblinking. “You say that like the world ever cared enough to glare.”
“It did,” Grenil said. “It just preferred doing it from a distance.”
Alex cracked a small smile. “Well, someone’s feeling extra poetic tonight.”
“I’m delirious from sleep deprivation,” Grenil replied. “Don’t read too much into it.”
The road dipped briefly, then curved uphill. As they crested the incline, Alex slowed to a stop. “Well, well, well. would you look at that.”
The land dipped gently ahead, with a river slowly winding its way slowly through the valley. What at first looked like scattered fires slowly resolved into ordered lines of light tracing along walls and streets.
The city sprawled across both sides of a wide river, its stone bridges gleaming faintly under the moonlight. Towers and rooftops rose in layered silhouette, climbing the slope of the far bank where larger buildings stood against the mist.
Even from this distance, they could see the faint glow of furnaces and the slow turn of several watermills. It wasn’t a metropolis by any means, but it was no border village either—a proper city, alive even in the dead of night; Though the huge, square mountain Alex had come to identify as an Orenthian acropolis was conspicuously absent.
Grenil’s eyes widened, then his breath escaped as laughter. “We did it. We’re actually out of Orenthia!”
Alex also couldn’t help smiling. “Finally.”
“I honestly didn’t think I’d make it across the border,” The old man said, his voice taking on a melancholy edge, “But no! Here we are, alive, even slightly less poor than expected.”
Duran tilted his head. “You thought you were going to die?”
Grenil gave the ghoul a flat look. “You try fleeing from the authorities halfway across a country at my age and see how optimistic you feel.”
“Fair,” Duran said.
Alex smirked faintly but didn’t comment. He would have liked to observe the town a bit longer, maybe watch how they received visitors, but he would prefer to get inside before the sun rose. He adjusted his grip on the cart handles and started down the hill. “Come on. Let’s make it official.”
The road meandered down the valley, wide and well-kept. Closer to the city, torchlight reflected on the water like scattered gold. The walls weren’t tall, but they were sturdy—stone reinforced with wooden palisades and short watchtowers that burned with light. The gate stood open, flanked by two guards whose posture suggested boredom more than vigilance.
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As the cart rattled closer, they straightened up, visibly suppressing yawns. “Comin’ in a bit late, aren’t ya?” One of them stepped forward.
“Or early, depending how you look at it.” Alex said, anxiously glancing at the slowly brightening horizon.
“Right you are.” The guard followed his gaze, before returning his attention to the cart. “So, whatcha got there? Anything you’d like to ?”
“Not particularly.” Alex shook his head, thinking of the probably priceless artifact they had buried at the bottom of the cart. “Just some supplies and loot we gathered from a dungeon.”
“A dungeon?” The guard raised a disbelieving eyebrow, his partner beside him suddenly coming to attention. “Ya’ll don’t look like the adventurin’ type, if you pardon my honesty.”
“Oh, these guys aren’t.” Alex waved away the unasked question, flexing his muscles. “That was all me.”
“Hm…” The man cast a critical gaze over Alex’s cheap, common clothing and shrugged. “If you insist.”
He held out a hand expectantly.
Alex stared at it for a moment. “Uh…”
“The entrance fee.” The man wiggled his fingers. “Ten coppers per person. If ya don’t wanna pay, feel free to come back in a few hours; there’s no fee then. But if you wanna enter at night, ya gotta pay up.”
Alex turned to Grenil, who shrugged and turned to rummage around the cart, quickly extracting their dwindling pouch of coin. Counting out the coppers, he handed them to the guard. “There you go.”
The man put the coins into a pouch at his waist before stepping aside. “Everything seems to be in order. Welcome to Luterra. Market opens at six, inns are pretty much all over the place, though the cheaper ones are a bit out of the way. Just go wherever is least convenient and you’ll probably find a decently priced one. Have a nice stay.”
As they rolled through the gate, Alex glanced back at the guard—who had gone back to falling asleep against the wall. “That’s it?” he muttered. “No questions, no checks, no paperwork?”
Grenil chuckled from the back of the cart. “Welcome to everywhere that isn’t Orenthia. You’ve gotten too used to their way of doing things.”
“Huh.” Alex frowned. “Is there a reason that’s the case?”
“Well, besides the fact that our encounters were not ordinary—every city in our path had been warned about you, so they completely refused entry at night—even under regular circumstances, it’s a big hassle.” The old man said.
“Orenthia is in a unique situation; nobody knows why, but every couple of years to half a decade, large amounts of monsters gather together into something called a beast tide and assault several cities throughout the country. This doesn’t happen anywhere else that I know of and can happen at any time, so their security measures are quite a bit stricter than most as a result.”
“Really?” Alex asked, “That’s strange, since we didn’t encounter a single monster in our time traveling through the country.”
Grenil shrugged. “Yeah, Orenthian monsters are surprisingly inactive when it’s not a beast tide for some reason.”
“I see.” Alex nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. “I guess that makes sense.”
“What about adventurers?” He changed the topic. “The guard back there mentioned those, but I don’t think I’ve ever encountered one before.”
Grenil nodded slowly. “You wouldn’t have. Orenthia doesn’t allow them inside its borders.”
“Why?”
“Once again, no one knows.” Grenil shrugged. “The Adventurer’s Guild is massive—bigger than any single kingdom’s military—and is one of the most trustworthy organisations in the world. They’ve got branches in nearly every city worth naming, and yet there has never been a recorded case of them interfering in a country’s politics. Most governments jump at the chance to welcome them into their borders. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that Orenthia is a theocracy.”
“And adventurers themselves?” Alex prompted.
“Oh, right. They take on just about any kind of work: monster hunting, exploration, farm work, even construction projects. Anything that pays.”
The young man raised a brow. “So, mercenaries.”
“Essentially,” Grenil said. “But with better organization and a slightly improved moral compass. You can hire an adventurer for almost anything, as long as it’s legal—killing beasts, finding lost livestock, babysitting nobles. If you need something done, some adventurer out there is willing to do it.”
Alex nodded, mulling that over. “Sounds useful.”
“It is.” Grenil agreed. “Which makes Orenthia’s decision all the more perplexing.”
The conversation tapered off after that; the night was nearly spent, and even the cart’s creaking sounded tired.
The road sloped gently up away from the river, the cobblestones glistening faintly under the last scraps of moonlight. A few fishermen were already setting out along the banks, their lanterns bobbing like fireflies over the water. The city around them stirred softly—doors creaking open, chimneys starting to smoke, and the occasional bark of a dog echoing between narrow streets.
“Sun’ll be up soon,” Grenil muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I suggest we enter the next inn we find.”
Alex nodded, guiding the cart through the town’s increasingly convoluted back-alleys. Most of the shops were shuttered, but a few lights were still on, warmly luring any would-be customers off the street. Finally, they identified one of the lit establishments as an inn—a modest, two-story building wedged between a bakery and a stable. The faint smell of fresh bread mixed with a whiff of manure to create a truly unique smell.
“I guess this’ll have to do.” Alex suppressed a disgusted shiver.
Carefully bundling up their dungeon prize, Grenil climbed out of the cart and squinted up at the weathered sign. “
The Rusted Fox,
” he read aloud. “At least it’s not the drunken flagon or something like that.”
“What’s wrong with the drunken flagon?” Alex asked as he pushed the door open.
“I’ve seen at least fifteen drunken flagons in half as many settlements, lad.” The old man shook his head. “And every single one thought they were unique, too.”
A small bell chimed overhead as they stepped inside. The common room was dim, lit only by the dull glow of a dying hearth. A young woman shot up from behind the counter, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth.
“Rooms?” She asked, voice hoarse from sleep, though she did a double take at Duran's missing arm.
“Two,” Alex said, pointing at Grenil. “One for him, one for us. We also came with a cart, and would appreciate a place to store it.”
The woman nodded, blinking blearily. “That’ll be two silvers total. You can keep the cart in the stable next door; my brother runs it. Just put it in an empty stall and take the key.”
Grenil sucked on his teeth at that, before reluctantly handing the money over. “Two silvers for a night… Daylight robbery, that’s what this is.”
“You’re free to try your luck elsewhere.” The woman yawned, sliding two keys across the counter. “Upstairs, end of the hall on the right. Don’t wake anyone. Breakfast’s in a few hours if you’re feeling hungry, though that costs extra.”
Alex pocketed one of the keys and handed the other to Grenil, trading it for the boot. “Get some rest. We’ll meet when the sun goes down.”
“That works,” Grenil said, already turning toward the stairs. “Assuming I wake up before tomorrow.”
Alex quickly thanked the woman for her help and followed him up with Duran. Reaching the end of the hallway, they found two rooms matching the numbers engraved on the keys.
Once inside, they found themselves in a small, college dorm sized room with a rather ratty looking bed and a tiny desk tucked into a corner. Above the desk, a grimy window stared out at a brick wall, revealing but a slice of the slowly brightening sky above.
Quickly drawing the curtains shut, the two of them inspected the room.
“Well,” Duran said in a decidedly unimpressed voice, “Home sweet home.”