Episode 1 (Part 1) - Olara

Olara looked back across the moorlands to her home one last time. The faint sight of people going about their days as the sun rose over the hill reminded her of the importance of her journey. She held her hand aloft and waved to them before turning and heading down the road heading west.

Olara travelled for days by herself, sleeping under the stars, and moving quickly when she felt able to. She had never been this far from home before and heard rumours of wild animals looking for easy prey. By the start of the third day, she began to worry that she had lost her way. She was looking for the North Road, which would take her into Portisian territory and towards the capital city of Olstorn. She hoped to find the answers she was looking for there. The terrain around Olara was mainly plains and while she could see for miles, the gentle hills blocked her view of any significant roadways. Undeterred, she continued her western heading and looked for a larger hill to climb and survey the area. As she reached a hilltop, she saw the road cutting through the landscape.

Olara was filled with relief. She knelt on the grassy hill, produced her water flask, and rested for a few minutes. As she collected herself to continue, she noticed a large collection of wagons and stagecoaches travelling in her direction. By the time she reached the road, they would meet. As they came upon each other, Olara learned that the large convoy she had seen atop the hill were merchants. They were a jovial lot, who happily adopted her into their numbers as they travelled. They explained that the north road was safer travelled in larger numbers. The convoy was made up of a dozen vehicles, with thirty individuals to drive them. The merchants swapped stories of journeys they’d taken and places they’d visited as they travelled along the road. Olara enjoyed their company, and some friendly faces were welcome after three days of travelling alone. The convoy travelled for two more days. Resting, and eating well at the roadside during the nights.

On the third day, a small town loomed into view in the distance. Olara could see that the centre of the town was well fortified with many stone buildings and tall walls. As the town extended out into the countryside around, the roads and streets became more free-flowing and organic, with much smaller walls at the outskirts. The merchants informed her that they were reaching the market town of Dale. It was their destination, and many of them were intending to sell their wares there the next day. They recommended taking an evening to rest properly before carrying onto Olstorn. There may even be other merchants heading that way after their horses were fully rested.

As they approached Dale, the convoy was sent to one side for inspection before entering the town. Olara said goodbye to the merchants and took in the sights. The walls that stretched around Dale were roughly ten feet tall but compared to her home, they were imposing. The gates into town were propped open and people seemed to be coming and going as they pleased. Olara felt a strange mix of discomfort and intrigue about the place. While she wanted to learn more about where she was, she also felt disconnected from it. As if she didn’t belong.

She took a deep breath and gripped the strap of her bag before taking some courageous steps towards the gate. There were two young guards leaning against the wall looking quite bored. One of them was tall, thin, and gangly. His armour didn’t appear to fit him very well. Almost as if he was wearing his father’s old uniform. The other was shorter and much stockier. He seemed much more intimidating, but the townsfolk still seemed to pay him no attention as they went about their day.

As Olara approached, the gangly guard spotted her and wandered over. The other guard stirred momentarily as he watched his comrade leave his post, but quickly shook his head in disdain and returned to his hard work digging a hole in the ground with the heel of his boot.

“Er, who goes there?” The guard said attempting to sound tough and authoritarian.
“My name is Olara, I’m a traveller just passing through.” Olara responded with a smile.
“Um, okay. Have you been to Dale before? I’m sure I would have recognised you.” The guard went onto ask.

Before Olara had a chance to respond, a third guard who was striding by called over to him.

“Jenkins, stop flirting and get back to your post.” She shouted. This guard was much different to the other two. She looked so comfortable in her armour, it looked as though she slept in it. Her hair was white, and her eyes looked almost colourless. She walked with purpose and barely paused for breath as she called out to Jenkins.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jenkins responded with a jump at the noise, “If you need a place to stay, I hear the Foragers has rooms available. Maybe I’ll see you there later?” He asked, with a hopeful tone.

Olara responded with a non-committal affirmation and Jenkins waved her through. He returned to his spot leaning against the wall looking somewhat dejected. Adding insult to injury, Olara saw the other guard jab Jenkins in the side with his elbow.

Once inside the walls, Olara could get a better sense of Dale. The road that led to Dale continued into town and was busy with people with boxes and hand carts travelling through the city. The levelled earth had been replaced with paving and there was a raised pavement on either side for pedestrians. There were many side roads leading off the main thoroughfare where people had their homes. Some of them were bringing in laundry hanging from the windows and children played in the streets. Behind the walls and stone, Olara saw that her home and Dale were not so different in this way.

The evening was drawing in and it was clear that the streets were beginning to quieten down. People were rushing back to their homes with purchases made through the day and others were looking for places to eat and drink. Olara began searching for the Foragers’ based on Jenkins’ recommendation. She wandered through the streets aimlessly for a while before she saw a wooden sign of a sheaf of corn with the name “The Foragers Inn” under it. The front of the establishment was modest. It had two bay windows on either side of the door. The simple square panes allowing light from the street to come in and giving those outside a sense of invitation.

Olara walked in nervously and looked around. There were many people in the establishment, with only a few tables free. Olara walked through the room and approached the bar. There was a younger woman behind the bar handing out drinks and engaging in friendly conversation with those propping up the bar. Olara looked to her left and saw a portly gentleman with a flushed face holding court, loudly sharing stories with those around him.

“Evenin’ luv. Get you anything?” The young woman said kindly.
“Er, I’d like some alcohol, but I’ve never had any before. And I was told you had rooms available?” Olara responded. The larger gentleman overheard the exchange and spoke up.
“Try some of the local wine! It’s fabulous. I say, I don’t recognise you. Have you just arrived?” The man said boisterously.
“Yes, I’ve just travelled here from the Vanderian Moorlands.” Olara responded.
“Ah, yes! I’ve been to the Vanderian Moorlands myself. Beautiful part of the world.” The man responded proudly.

Something in the man’s face told Olara he was lying.

“I see. Where abouts did you go?” She asked, with a smirk.
“Oh, er… you know. The big town there.” The man responded stumbling over his words. Olara saw his face grow redder still.
“That’s just Jakob. He’s harmless. I’m Emily.” Said Emily from behind the bar, passing over a cup of red wine.

Olara ordered a meal and Emily arranged for a room to be made available for her. Olara thanked them both for their hospitality and went to find a table. She sat at one near to the bar and placed her bag, bow and quiver on the ground near her feet. Now that she had time to relax properly, the charms of Dale began to grow on her. The Foragers Inn was hive of laughter and activity. Her meal arrived, consisting of some warm bread, meat and potatoes. It was functional food but nonetheless delicious. As Olara enjoyed her meal, she saw the female guard she had seen earlier that day enter the Inn, order a drink from the bar and head to the quiet table in the corner. She looked frustrated.

As Olara turned back to her meal, a patron of the Inn pulled up a chair and enthusiastically introduced himself.

“Hi! My name’s Zamzidar, what’s yours?” Asked the stranger with a broad smile. He had short, reddish-brown hair, which was styled to look messy. He sported a goatee and was quite well dressed.
“I’m Olara. Can I help you?” She responded, surprised by the Gnome’s abrupt introduction.
“No, no. I need no help. Say you look like you’re from out of town, wanna play a dice game?” Zamzidar asked with the same grin.

Olara agreed and Zamzidar explained the rules. The more he explained, the more Olara became increasingly suspicious that he intended to con her. The game was deceptively simple and boiled down to who rolled the highest on three dice. They played one round, which Olara won, and Zamzidar asked if she wanted to play again for money this time. While she was tempted, her wisdom got the better of her and she declined. They instead spent some time chatting back and forth about their travels. Zamzidar explained he was a businessman who was looking to invest in some shops while in town. Their conversation continued for a little while before a drunken man came bustling into the Inn alongside a strange frog-like creature that walked on two legs. The drunken man ran to the corner of the room where the female guard was sitting. Olara could tell something was wrong.