Next, the young man considered the bay itself. Safe as it lay from Zulrav's calamitous temper, it was not impregnable. Not that Branimir was aware of any piracy on the Suvan Sea, but for Branimir it was only a question of time before man's ingenuity took back what he lost to the Valterrian catastrophe. Sooner rather than later, the cities dotting the land would rise again. And when all the land in their domain was theirs and tamed, they'd cast envious eyes towards their neighbors. Granted, Riverfall's weakness was up above, where the Bluevein ran. The bottleneck of Plunge Pool Bay was a point of attack for madmen, to know as much one didn't need to be a naval strategist.
However, the tiny opening all but invited a blockade. Also, there were creatures in the Suvan one might want to distract from the bay. While not a needful consideration, the architect actually dreaded to ruin the stark natural lines of the bay with emplacements and so decided to raise artificial islands outside of it, there to place towers to ward off interlopers. That thought alone birthed a dozen ideas on how one might pacify the Suvan Sea for good, but a sharp tug at the simple chain around his wrist killed them where they spawned. He had a goal for right now. An attainable goal, a sensible, practical goal. Casting one last look at the bay, he made himself turn on his heel and ascend back up into the city proper, constantly taunted by the image of Wysar's Temple up on the cliff.
Returning almost to the point of his origin, Branimir once more passed the Blue Bull tavern along his path, dodged the early afternoon brawl as it began to spill outside and felt like a local as he did. Funny how these things worked. The Blue Bull was not exactly on time, but there were clear tides to it, like the sea. Attendance swelled and swelled and eventually broke out into violence, or so it seemed. But that was about all the consideration Branimir could afford to spare on that establishment. Instead, he busied himself with the next entry on his ledger of Riverfall's roads. The other side of the Bluevein where he'd soon be was wider and the streets busier in both attendance and design. Of course he'd master the pattern, but only because he'd gone before to learn it. Now he was simply sizing it up for the kill.
Patterns. Patterns existed in all things and to all things there was one, the young man thought as he measured his little world step by step. The streets were laid out in a pattern. It might not be regular or repeating (though his designs would change that, he swore), but there were reasons the street turned left after the bridge. If only because Akajja's tower stood that way. Or maybe the tower had followed the street to the edge of the city. They both had their reasons for being where they were. It was not his place to question those reasons, nor his intention because, at the end of it all, Branimir did not care for those reasons. His own design would be based on his own reasons and that was enough for him. He'd not be fool enough to tussle with the will of the Gods, nor would he be fool enough to even question it.
Maybe they'd respond in kind where his own will was concerned. Maybe his own Gods were simply better, wiser beings than one might assume. Again, he did not mind. Fixed points in the cityscape were inspiration and challenge more than obstacle. They gave starting points and stopping points and commanded the quarters they belonged to. And thusly, these quarters would neatly find order around, say, Akajja's Tower in the future, too. Though he was not sure how to appease the Goddess of Night. Another thing Branimir would have to research. Would she treasure black houses? Ones bereft of windows? Or walls? He could tell of Zintila, but as the stories went that Alvina gave unto her followers their own hallowed building material, a masterful glass without peer in all the land. Sadly. this was not Lhavit. Luckily, it was Riverfall.
Clearly this town needed a vision in a way the legendary city of Kalea did not. His vision. His design. His order. All this was clear to Branimir. Still unclear was how to convince anyone of this. Standing outside of Akajja's temple and jotting down his numbers, he wondered of the Goddess had an answer.
Also, while hoping not to raise the nightbringer's ire with this thought, he missed his very own patron. Clutching her charm in his right hand, he closed his eyes while trying not to pray for guidance. Eyris wouldn't help those who couldn't help themselves at any rate, Branimir trusted he knew. |