It took several days' journey on my wolf mount to reach the gates of Valgertha. They were well guarded with sentries posted on the ramparts, looking out over the outlying lands for attacking armies or signs of their enemies. They weren't searching for a man dressed as a merchant of their kind, however.
I had shaved the sides of my head, gathering my hair in a long French braid that began at the cusp of my hairline, and to the back of my head.
Dark, dusky tattoos had been branded onto my skin, all inspired and designed with Valgerthian history in mind. They were quite wild and tribal, speaking to the warrior mentality of their people. I was dressed as they were, in well-worn leather armor, with a curved sword at my waist.
The armor the Fraternity had provided me with was prepared especially for me, conditioned and beaten into shape as if I had fought side by side with these people on the battlefield all my life.
