278: Castle Gate 🌉🏰
Daily Image created using ChatGPT (Anime AI Art)
🏰 The Gate at Spriteguard
The moat shimmered with reflections caused by the torchlights as the knights led the caravan over the bridge. The city of Spriteguard loomed at the end, its ivy-clad walls rising like a promise against the star-pinned sky. For the refugees, it was the end of a road carved by fire and frost, weeks of travel, hunger, and silence.
Sergeant Calen stood at the gate, checking for status, ailments, and known criminals and troublemakers, his spear resting against his shoulder, his hands checking through the baggage and crates. He’d inspected hundreds tonight. Faces blurred together, soot-streaked, hollow-eyed, clutching bundles of cloth and what remained of their possessions. But he watched each one. That was the ritual. No one passed without being seen.
A mounted knight approached, his horse’s hooves muffled by the damp stone. Sir Edran, bannerless but unmistakable, his blue cloak marked him as one of the outer patrol. He nodded to Calen, then turned to the wagon behind him. Inside, a woman cradled a child wrapped in a patched blanket. Her eyes met Calen’s, a bit broken but not pleading under duress, just waiting. He stepped forward, torchlight flickering across her face.
“Name?” he asked.
“Carol,” she said. “From the valley.”
He glanced at the child. “Yours?”
She nodded.
“Any illness?”
“No. Just tired.”
Calen stepped back and waved her through. The wagon creaked forward, lantern swinging from its side. Behind it, more carts followed. Some carried tools, others only silence. A boy walked beside a mule, guiding it with a rope tied to his wrist. An old man leaned on a staff carved with runes Calen didn’t recognize.
Inside the gate, the city stirred. Lanterns glowed in upper windows. A baker’s apprentice swept the stoop of a shuttered shop. Somewhere deeper, bells marked the hour, soft, distant, like a heartbeat.
Calen turned to the next traveler. A man with a limp, carrying a sack that clinked with metal. “Blacksmith?” Calen asked.
The man nodded. “If you’ve need.”
“We always do.”
He let him pass.
By dawn, the line had thinned down, and the gate closed. For now, Spriteguard remained one of the few bastions offering the quiet dignity of welcome and safety during these perilous times.
