221
The soldier removes a sputtering torch from a bracket on the wall and returns to your side. Holding the torch high, he casts his eye over you and your horse and rubs his stubbly chin.
‘You come from Varetta or Soren? Long ride either way you must be tired. In you go, but in the future be sure to get a cess—some o’ my brother-guards ain’t so understanding.’
You thank the guard and ride in through the town gate.
