The Streets and Alleyways of Stonevale

He swiftly stepped out of the chapel, hoping the other guy would follow.

"I don't know. Best to stay away from it. You're supposed to accompany me on my deployment to the front line, soon. But they just wont announce it. I've been waiting and waiting. I think you might be drafted into our platoon," he said.

"Very good."
He began walking them down a street. They melded with a sparse crowd and passed a couple citizens being shaken down by guards for evidence of terrorism that very well may not have existed. He began leading him to their barracks in town.
"So, where are you from? How was life before the Great Change?"

"Hmm. I see."
They turned another corner. An imposing compound greeted them, one which had soldiers moving in and out constantly.

"They just imposed a curfew, so they're all trying to get their shopping done before then. Apparently someone got caught talking about New Brimiarde," he whispered as he continued walking. New Brimiarde was the stage of an uprising against Lord Zephidel's rule, and was the talk of the town. It was expected that the revolt would be crushed.
"Feel bad for that sorry lot... I get how they feel, but it's suicide."

They stepped inside.

[Sorry about that, busy offline lately!]

Up three flights of stairs they'd go to their bunks---. Each level had a common room, and the place was very busy. Close-knit groups of troopers huddled around a board game or chatted away with beers, for the most part just a bunch of regular people who had been shoved into the tight situation that was the Goraian military in this day and age.
"Don't worry. You'll get to know the people who matter real quick," he said. They got to their floor; beyond the first, officer presence was relatively low and things seemed more relaxed. Up here, many of the troops had their boots off and were relaxing for the evening. Some could be seen with nondescript, black ribbons tied to their ankles, pink at the tips. It seemed to be a decorative thing, albeit slightly feminine in a world of men. Wedge nodded to someone who was wearing one and polishing their boots, and then said in an undertone, "those ribbons. They mean you show support for the celebrity fighter, Lamina. Terrible rumors abound about what happened to her... it is a very contentious issue and they are meant to spread awareness and express sympathy. Just don't get caught," he warned. The guy he was speaking about smiled and waved.
He continued, essentially giving a tour of everything until they reached their own room, which would be tiny and consist of two bunks shoved into a tiny space with a little room for storage.
"Ah, here we go. B321."

"Curfew and role call are at eight. Just be sure to be back before then. Careful, they've doubled the guard around the clock lately. More spotlights have gone up and there's nowhere to hide anymore," he said. "Be sure you're here."

After that, he was free to do as he pleased, for the most part. Confined within the city, there wasn't much to do without being watched, so many of the troops just stayed in their levels of the barracks.

Erich nodded. Made sense. There could be any element of anti-state sympathies breaking curfew. He went to decide to practice with his sword for the day, and at dusk went in to hone it. Interaction was not his strong suit.

Goraian battlemages on the street were trained to detect channeling. All magic use in the city was under extremely tight lockdown. The channeling would be detected, triggering their own desire to begin channeling. A competition in the pull on the local leylines would be felt... and yet, the source of the power draw was confusing to the Goraian troops. It appeared to be coming from underground, so while troops bearing antimagic swords were summoned to create a parameter around the underground pull, they weren't exactly sure where to go.

Erich watched from the barracks as battlemages, and even Zagarus, began channeling some kind of magic. He was unfamiliar with the arts, but he could assume this meant little good.