“Are you sure that’s Kaibain?” Frisha asked, looking up at the monstrosity. “Maybe we took a wrong turn and ended up at Drennil.”

Jimson chuckled. “Oh, I am sure all right. I have been here before, several times, in fact. I know it does not look like much from this side, but once we pass through the gate, you will be surprised.”

Frisha eyed the wall doubtfully. It seemed like the King’s Seat should be more grandiose.

“This wall is more functional than decorative, obviously,” Jimson added. “In ages past, when war frequented this land, entire sections of the wall were repeatedly damaged or destroyed. It had to be rebuilt often and quickly. The builders did not have the time or funds to make it attractive. Besides, their hard work would have been for naught as soon as a catapult launched a boulder and shattered it.”

The bridge spanning the Straei was slightly more impressive. It was massive and built high upon pillars, although not quite high enough to allow passage for most ships sporting a mast. Tam stood at the center of the bridge looking over the rail down at the rushing water below.

“How to they keep the stone up between pillars? It looks like they’re floating on air,” he said.

“They used iron and steel beams and girders to create a frame. It was quite an engineering feat, and the engineers and mages who worked on it were rewarded handsomely,” the lieutenant replied.

“I just can’t wait to get to my uncle’s and have a hot bath. I am so tired of being dirty and smelly,” Frisha huffed. “I really don’t care about the rest of the city at this point.”

“That reminds me,” Jimson said. “Rezkin, where will you be staying and how long until you will be ready to leave for Skutton? I have a few messages to deliver, and I need to get the final letter of approval for my leave. Then, I will be free to go. How will I reach you?”

Just as Rezkin opened his mouth to reply, Frisha spoke instead. “He is going to be a guest at my uncle’s home. You should have no problem finding it. My uncle is General Marcum.”

Lieutenant Jimson and Reaylin, who was in serious pain but now able to ride her own horse, both whipped their heads around to stare at Frisha. “General Marcum is your uncle?” Jimson asked in disbelief.

“Yes, on my mother’s side,” Frisha replied with a slight flush at the attention.