Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

The port entertains me for quite some time before I decide to move on. I stroll to the museum next, where I know I will relish in the expanse of consumable information. If I’m not careful, the day will be gone before I realize it, and I’ll miss my invitation to the McLarin’s banquet dinner.

The first exhibit I encounter is an armory with augmented armor and weapons of all kinds. Most of the armor is made from preserved and reinforced lightweight wood of many different assortments. And the curators have draped the armor over petrified deceased bodies to realistically emulate how it wore. They carry weapons, such as petrifying lances, decaying maces, and inflating clubs that would swell up the flesh of a man, rendering them immobile. The most curious of all the weapons is a sword said to resurrect. A weapon that doesn’t do harm, but instead brings life. The exhibit clearly notes this as legend, and they have displayed only a replica of what the stories describe. Which is even more curious. Why would the curators of the Museum of Artifacts put on display something that only exists in legend?

I walk into the next chamber. A giant bird of prey floats in the center of the room—likely hanging from thin strings. It’s an eagle owl, and the information tablet explains that it was used as cavalry in the ancient wars. I couldn’t imagine sitting atop this thing, flying high above the cities and forests.

Lining the perimeter of the chamber are all the other beasts of past days. The first one I approach is a horse with wings. They called it a pegasus, but it was a mere experiment of man and not natural to this world. It goes on to explain several other grand ideas man attempted to create and utterly failed. Makes me cringe. Why would someone want to create a beast with the legs of a cat, the armor of a turtle, the ears of a doe, and the fangs of a viper? It’s revolting. But I’m curious how they did this. I shake my head and move on.

Throughout the rest of the chamber are massive brown bears, miniature tigers the size of a large dog, and horned beasts called rhinoceros, plated in a thick natural armor. The exhibit even displays men mounted upon wild horses. Disturbing are the tales that come along with these exhibits and how man has inserted their agendas into the lives of these beasts. Using them for their own purpose and greatness. Not much different than a parasite.

After overwhelming my head with facts of the Old Races of Azure, I realize the hour is getting late and it’s time to head back to the inn to meet up with the McLarins. Rather than traveling the exact route I came, because it would have been a round-a-bout way, I go as the crow flies.

The museum and its grounds are well kept, so I don’t realize I’m centered in an intimidating neighborhood until I am well on my way. The homes are no longer stout wood or brick structures, but tents or makeshift lean-tos. The roads have faded from cobblestone to thinned-out cobblestone and rock to mere dirt roads with deep ruts caused by heavy traffic. Even the trees and bushes are grim with minimal brown leaves. The captivating scenery of the main thoroughfare does not exist in this part of town.

The crowds of consumers don’t exist in this neighborhood either. Instead, it is littered with the type of folk that cause you to walk on the opposite side of the road. Unfortunately for me, they’re on both sides of the road.

“What’s a fancy-pants like you doin’ in Tombtrough, lad.”

Oh man, that’s where I am? A sour-looking individual glimpses past me then up and down the road.

“All alone? Lose your mummy?” He approaches with a limp.

“Er…yes, I did. And I best go find her. Thank you, sir, for reminding me.” I shift to his right and push my legs as fast as they’ll go. When I look over my shoulder, I see him throw his hands in the air and wave me off. He’s not going to follow. I slow to a walk after turning a corner and let out a sigh of relief. I bend over to catch my breath, and examine my pants. They’re not fancy. I suppose they’re not frayed or plagued with holes, but they’re not fancy.

I straighten my attire and harden my stance as I rise, regaining my confidence to carry on.

I shuffle along at a faster pace, fearful of the what if’s, but I know going back the way I came will take far too long. And I don’t want to upset Lady McLarin. I’ll tough it out and avoid eye contact. The daylight is still plentiful, so I have that on my side. It won’t save me from any aggressors, but at least I’ll see them coming.

Several blocks into Tombtrough, it appears I’ve made it past the brunt of thugs who looked desperate. Hopefully it’s easy treading from here on out.

Another furlong and the neighborhood isn’t any friendlier as the skies grow darker. The same crusty homes and thirsty vegetation with every step. Though, there are several more trees lining the road in a manner that forms dark alleys between the makeshift homes—just what a criminal-infested area needs. I did read in the museum this city was once magnificent and full of wealth. A wealth that couldn’t be used to barter with. The soils were full of nutrients with thriving crops, and the Scarlet River was pure and full of life. The combination of the two brought flocks of travelers that came to stay. This area may have been some type of orchard in the past and eventually evolved into what’s here today due to overpopulation of the city.

One dark alley after the next with minimal