WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

[abraxasmods]

WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

Welcome to The Free Cities! The portal exits outside the capital city of Cadens. The first impression of the city is its sheer size. It sprawls out across the landscape like a great hulking beast at rest. The wall that encircles it barely contains it, the buildings of Cadens practically bulging against its restraint.

The air here seems thicker somehow, tinged with a scent that’s acrid and smoky. Smog hangs high over the city, belched out by smokestacks that tower over the industrial district. The desert stretches out behind it, dotted with towers and dust clouds that disappear into the horizon. Multiple gates lead inside and each is staffed by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms that wave a steady stream of people through without appearing to pay much attention. People are coming and going almost all of the time, to and from the outposts and areas of activity around the city proper. It’s difficult to tell just what’s out there beyond the impression of tall metal structures and a great deal of labor. Wagons carrying travelers to Libertas and Aquila roll out from the Travel Post outside the city wall.

Anyone who can sense magic will notice a much lower concentration here. No one will be stopped or questioned at the gate, even if the soldiers seem to take note of the fugitives from Thorne.

The activity and sheer number of citizens can be overwhelming. It’s crowded and loud and feels constantly in motion with everyone talking and yelling over each other. It’s easy to get swept up in the ever-moving throng or find oneself ducking into the mouth of a narrow alley just to breathe.

Anyone who’s willing to make their way to the northern part of the city and Portham Hall will find Prime Minister Marlo Reiner available to receive them.

Comments

[cointosser]

[Geralt's offering is quite obvious to Jaskier, and since he's never been in the habit to insist the Witcher eat more than he takes, he says nothing about it. An orange and wine is better than going without either.

His gaze tracks to Ciri. The thanks is much more than he's ever grown used to in his current company, so for now, he forgives her for snapping earlier. Perhaps it really is just hunger and exhaustion.]

Think nothing of it. [He returns to his spot with another chug of wine, setting the empty bottle aside, and peels an orange. As he makes his way through it, slice by slice, he slides slowly down, more relaxed and more exhausted by the second. Somewhere between his fourth and fifth yawn, Jaskier's eyes close and he curls up on his side, head pillowed on an arm.

At this point, it doesn't matter where he rests anymore.]

[gynvael]

[ Even without listening to the steadying of their heartbeats, it's easy to tell when Jaskier and Cirilla both begin to slip away. He watches them eat and drink; reaches out to catch the remainder of the orange slipping from Jaskier's hand before it hits the ground. It's his first night, he realizes, outside of a cell. No bars. No guards. No cellmates to ignore. Most of all, he can hear again when someone approaches. If there's anyone outside their room, approximately how many are downstairs. The opening and closing of a door each time patrons come and go.

He pops the rescued orange in his mouth: not by slice, just the entire quarter that's left. What's there of the bread gets eaten, too, now that the two of them are asleep. With Ciri's head on his shoulder, he decides not to move until he's certain she won't wake. He lets himself doze instead. Couple hours. Then he wakes. Jaskier's still sprawled on the ground, Ciri's still snoring away beside him.

A moment of hesitation passes. Examining how he feels is not where he wants to be right now. Or at any moment, but especially not now, in the late hour. So he doesn't let himself think twice about it as he carefully scoops Ciri up and carries her over to the bed. The blankets are worn, but they are clean. They're tucked around her while he tries not to dwell on how exactly he took her to Kaer Morhen. What happened along the way, what happened afterwards. Where that scar came from. (It looks like a blade, not a claw.)

He drops one of the blankets on top of Jaskier, too, on his way towards the windows that overlook the city below. He pushes it open to get some—not fresh air, but. Air, at least. A breeze, to offset the warm night. Sunrise can't come soon enough. He wants the distraction of something to do, of places to look for, supplies to search out. Eventually, the room is stifling enough he winds up on the eaves outside altogether. It's where he stays, right up until Jaskier stumbles out to find him. ]