Forty Eight
Gladius and Fletcher, Golden Fields
With the enigmatic Darkwoods behind them, the trail was finally free of trees and Darkness. Charger and Scruffy carried the two heroes forth.
The beaming sun nigh blinded the two heroes as their horses eagerly trotted into the pastures.
Rich fields of bountiful golden harvests stretched in every direction.
Barley, wheat, hops, oats, corn; The Golden Fields was rich in nature's bounty. It was the bread basket of most of central Turbulus.
Fletcher took a deep breath of the fresh rural air. He had grown up in the Golden Fields, moving only to Myst City to chase adolescent fantasies.
Fletcher's ambition to be a wealthy trader was quashed when he ended up a penniless widower living in the slums.
But this was a warm nostalgia for the simple life he was raised to live, but the one a selfish arrogant teenager abandoned.
Gladius felt the fresh breeze, remembering one summer in his own childhood before his parents gave him to The Tabernacle.
He saw his kin on occasion usually in passing in the Trade district, but the love was gone, they were just strangers.
The Tabernacle was his life now. But that simple certainty wasn't enough for him anymore.
He clutched Geally's hairpin close to his heart, promising himself he would see her again.
So, the two nostalgic middle-aged men sat atop their horses and basked in the sun.
But something was wrong, there was an eerie silence about, the farms in sight were overgrown and unattended by their owners.
As the knights rode on down the country road between the fields, they saw nobody, not a single soul passed them.
When they saw the first crossroads they turned towards Wheat Town, the nearest settlement.
Gladius and Fletcher led their horses down the quiet windy road betwixt ripe corn fields. The coppery gold blades of grass were tall and unkempt.
The fields were ready for harvest but their owners were absent, the fields abandoned.
What could drive them to abandon their livelihoods in such a manner?
Just ahead was an overturned fruit cart being hungrily picked at by a bunch of rust-colored small dwarf-like creatures.
Gladius sighed in relief as he recognized the creatures. "Just Dworgs."
The relatively harmless child-sized scavengers lived on stolen produce, living in massive rabbit-like warrens under the farms.
A nuisance at worst, to the farmers and reminder to build scarecrows and guard their granaries.
The creatures fled when they saw the heroes approach.
Gladius and Fletcher turned over the wooden cart messy with half-eaten fruit.
The draft horse and rider were long gone, fled to parts unknown.
But Fletcher did find a scroll tucked under the rider's seat.
'A Call to Arms!
The Crop Guard extends its protection to you.
Come to Sentinel Hill and escape the blight
-Sincerely,
Militia Captain Renault'
Wasn't there a Golden Sun Knight called Renault?"
Fletcher inquired.
Gladius reviewed the scroll. "Aye he went into exile after our failure at The Capital siege," he remembered how hard it was to see his former captain leave the order.
Renault had been quite vocal about how The Tabernacle had lost its way; he left disillusioned.
Sometimes Gladius wished he left with Renault. His former captain was right, The Tabernacle had grown corrupt, too many malcontents poisoning it's virtue and lingering in its halls.
Gladius had a particular distaste for the inquisitors, their holier-than-thou attitude, their zeal and especially their hypocrisy.
Gladius packed the scroll in his saddlebag and extracted his map. He traced his finger on the faded map.
"Sentinel Hill is this way!" Fletcher pointed, knowing the location from his youth. He had even considered running away from home to join The Crop Guard a few times.
They would get the answers they sought with the Crop Guards.