Oarden bid the sailors farewell, and began on his way, clutching the necklace with a great sense of contentment. Oarden resided in an inn, not too far from the main port town. He liked it because it was safe, roomy and most importantly cheap. He followed to old path over the crest of the hill, and was met with a most terrible sight...
Flames. The inn was burning, great big clouds of smoke rose out from each window, doorway and chimney. The building burnt great reds, oranges and yellows, and pointy shapes danced around in the chaos. Oarden sprinted forward, almost tripping over the bits of stone that littered the pathway. As he approached, he noticed a group of people standing outside. At first he had assumed that they were residents of the building, but their long swords and shiny sets of armour said otherwise. He watched as they lit more and more flaming torches into the windows...
He got closer, close enough to make out one of them. This particular man had great red cheeks, and a large brown beard. He sat upon his black horse, and turned to face him as Oarden drew nearer. “What on earth is the meaning of this?” Oarden shouted over the roar of the flames, before noticing another solider carrying out a bag of golden items, much like the ones that had lined his room, before it was turned into a bonfire. “Those are mine! What right do you have-“he screamed, before the man on horseback stopped him. He pulled out a letter from one the bags that lined his saddle.
“We claim these treasures in the name of lord Fusos, to be apprehended for reuse in the ranks of his army. Any attempt to prevent this activity will be seen as an act against Fusos himself, and will be treated as such.” The man spoke clearly and boldly before turning back to Oarden. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. The best I can offer is that you journey to Silveredge, and appeal to reclaim these items.” Oarden glared at him with anger and frustration.
“Fusos thinks he can do this? People won’t stand for it! They will rebel!”
The man stared on strangely for a moment. “People are already rebelling.” He stated “We are on the break of war. If I were you I would hurry up and pick a side...” the man took one more look around before signalling for his men to leave. Oarden cried out, “Wait! Could you at least give me transport to Silveredge?” the man thought about this for a moment. Oarden reached into his pocket, and pulled out the necklace he had purchased earlier that day... the man on the horse nodded, and Oarden clambered on the back of his horse.