A black leather boot sunk deep into the mud of a dirt road as a man descended from an old rickety hay wagon. Slightly adjusting the brim of his hat, he surveyed the landscape below. He could see the castle walls from here, about a half a day's journey by foot. If everything went well, his mission would soon be over.
With his right hand, he reached into the inner pocket of his black leather overcoat and pulled from within a single copper coin. As if he held no regard for the currency he launched it into the air with the flick of a thumb. It arced beautifully, landing directly into the hand of the bald, old farmer who drove the wagon.
The old man looked at him for a moment, tilting his head to the side. He wasn't expecting payment. He was just happy to have a companion this once. He would usually traverse this road alone. At first he thought they would exchange stories, have a few laughs and maybe part as friends, but the man rarely spoke.
He was more than curious about this figure dressed in enough black to make shadows envy, but he knew a person doesn't live as long as he does by asking questions. Besides, it was best he leave before the rain comes. And so, with none of his questions answered, and without so much as a farewell, the two parted ways.
The younger man set off, following a beaten path that led from the main road to what he assumed would be the castle gates. By the time he had arrived, so had the rain. The downpour was relentless. Droplets as big as grapes beat against the brim of his pointed hat and ran over its edge onto his overcoat. He couldn't help but remember how this place had gotten its name. The Castle of God's Tears.
There were two reasons. First, the rain never stopped. It may lessen in intensity, but it would never end, and it had been like that for more than half a century. As for the second reason…
The man frowned as he gazed upon the castle walls. It felt as if he was looking at a ruin. The combination of rotten wood, crumbling stones, untamed vines and wild moss showed a lack of care from whoever ruled this territory. Though that was not his place to speak, as he had no interest in power or the political struggle required to attain it.
He walked unhurried through the rain, a sack slung over his shoulder which carried his food, his supplies, and the tools of his trade.
He approached a makeshift guardhouse, stationed by the castle entrance. The so-called knight on duty was fast asleep inside. He sat on a wooden chair which balanced on two legs as he rested his feet against the wall. The visor of his helmet covered his face, but his snores betrayed his rest.
Watching the knight sleep, the fellow in black mused to himself on how easy it would be to take the man's life. Though that was a thought for later, maybe. As for now, he needed to enter the city. With that thought in mind, he dropped the sack he carried.
The sudden thud woke the guard who sat forward in a panic, which caused the chair to slide. There was a loud crash as the man fell, but he rose to his feet quickly, albeit slightly embarrassed.
He lifted his visor. It seemed as if he had issues getting his head to fit inside the helmet. His ruddy cheeks pressed against the ventail of his headgear, which squeezed his face. He was most definitely overweight.
"I'm here to enter." The man in black spoke.
The guard seemed confused for a moment, but quickly regained composure.
"Documentation please." The guard asked.
At his request, the man in black reached into his overcoat and pulled out a thin stack of papers. They were remarkably dry considering he had just walked through the rain.
"And what is the purpose of your visit, sir?" The guard asked as he received the documents.
"Trade."
The guard gave him a look.
"… What good could that possibly do you here?" The guard mumbled under his breath, as he read through the documents. "This place is a shithole."
The man in black stayed silent.
"It seems you're all good. Follow me." The guard gestured as he walked out of the guardhouse. He broke into a jog as he approached the portcullis and used his hand to shield his face from the rain.
"Open the gate!" He yelled, and soon after came sounds groaning steel as the mechanisms inside the castle walls worked to lift the portcullis.
The man in black picked up his sack whilst the knight rushed passed him, eager to regain the shelter of his trusty little guardhouse. The man, no longer paying the knight any mind, walked through the castle gate.
The first thing he noticed was the foul smell of rotting vegetation. The source of the stench was a cluster of dilapidated vending stalls stationed right by the gate, and constructed from wood as rotten as the fruits and vegetables being sold.
This was the city marketplace, and it spanned a fairly wide area by the entrance. Despite the rain, it was quite lively here. Sellers announced their wares, loudly beseeching any potential customers to come and buy. There were quite a few things on sale, not just fruits and vegetables but clothes, tools, liquor, processed foods and more.
However, this wasn't a shopping trip. The man had places he needed to be and so, he pressed forward, the squelch of mud accompanying every step.
"Thief!" As he made his way through the marketplace he heard a yell and watched as a little boy sped past him with an apple in hand. A balding middle aged man, presumably the vendor he stole it from gave chase and the two disappeared into the crowd.
The man in black looked over to the stall the vendor had just abandoned, just in time to see it get raided by four other children who quickly scrambled off with the stolen goods. He paused for a moment as he watched the group disappear into the market, then tightened his grip on his sack, pulling it closer.
Within a few minutes of walking, he had managed to leave the marketplace. He was now in the inner city. He took a moment to observe his surroundings, and noted the various ramshackle houses that littered the streets. The severity of disrepair ranged from cracked walls and broken roof tiles to entirely crumbled buildings and half built structures. He doubted that this place would have a good Inn. Still, it wasn't like he was used to comfort, so it didn't matter either way.
He continued down the street, and navigated the twists and turns with a familiarity that was not common for a first time visitor. Finally, making his way into a narrow street, he approached his destination. The Wanderer's Respite.
As he stood before the inn, he took note of it's craftsmanship. It was one of the few wooden structures within the inner city. Standing at about three stories tall, it appeared markedly smaller than its peers, though it was certainly in a better condition.
The wood, though faded from years of constant rain, appeared solid and reliable. The roof, despite having a few missing tiles didn't have any holes or openings he could see. He did notice some vines growing along the sides of the building, but that along with the potted plants placed out front and the ones hung from the balconies, gave the structure a more natural appeal in this city of stone. It was strange, but for the first time in years he was reminded of home.
The orange glow of tavern windows gave him a feeling of warmth he couldn't describe and though he was used to the cold, he couldn't help but anticipate stepping inside. As he was about to do so, he noticed movement in a nearby alley.
There was a grunt, and then a groan as he witnessed an older man fall to the ground whilst being beaten by three other men. Upon taking a closer look, he realized that the three wore the garb of the city guard.
One of the three paused for a moment, then leaned down and snatched a coin sack from the older man's person. He counted the coins as the other two carried on with the beating, kicking and stomping their victim.
Seemingly satisfied with the amount, the guard gestured for the group to leave, and the three disappeared down the alley. Though not before one of them spat on the old man.
The man in black watched this all unfold and any misguided feelings of nostalgia he had, vanished without a trace. He glanced at the man, lying there in the rain, but ultimately turned away.
He stepped forward and opened the door under the faded sign of the Inn as he reminded himself that this was not his home. Indeed, there was no home for him to go back to anymore.