Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
Taking word to the Duke
The eight of them rode into the courtyard at Hightower. Unlike Ford Inn, which was confined to the hill next to the river, Hightower had vastly more space. Both its courtyard was far larger and the outbuildings were spread over a much larger area too. It was also busy, there were many traders and groups of travellers camped here, despite the lack of activity on the route to the Westmarch. Several caravans were visible, including one with the huge barrel wagons of the kind that Myrthe and Ala had travelled with to Duilhac such a short time before. They would start their search for Phansigar here. Caerel stopped just inside the gateway and Ala came up next to him.
“What do you suppose they’d look like?” He mused, partially to himself.
“They can’t hide their physical condition. Well fed and muscled. They seem practised in not appearing as if they are soldiers missing a uniform and armour though,” Ala said.
“I see lots that could qualify.”
“Let’s just work our way around clockwise. It’d be best to stay together, things can get violent quickly with these men. Let’s not have a repeat of what happened to Myrthe at Ford Inn.”
“Agreed,” Caerel said. They all dismounted and he started towards the first concentration of men on their left. Understandably, the people in question noticed them and it was clear they were wondering what this band of exotic adventurers might want from them. Innocent people became understandably nervous when they approached, most people were at least a tiny bit wary of nobles, dwarves and elves which meant that they ticked a lot of boxes that might lead to people being concerned about their intentions.
Myrthe was by far the most tactful among them when it came to approaching people. She was able to set people at ease and get them to display their forearms and Caerel swiftly realised that it was far more effective to let her lead the conversations. The trouble was that they expected to get into a fight in moments if they found any of the Phansigar, so they had to stay close together when they approached each group that looked like there might be Phansigar among them.
It swiftly became obvious how difficult this was going to be. The third group they spoke to was mostly Phansigar. Immediately the situation deteriorated into an open sword fight. They won but Guanshiyin’s assistance was needed to patch Caerel up afterwards. The patriarch of the farmstead next to the scene of the fight came running out yelling as Ala was kicking the last Phansigar off her sword.
“What in the nine hells are you doing, who are you? Are you bandits? Highwaymen? Is it money you want?”
Caerel was there, clutching a bloody arm. “No you dolt. I’m Caerel de Duilhac, Lord of Taladaria. These people were Phansigar…” when the man looked at him blankly, he added, “enemies of the Duchy, murderers and rapists. They prey on travellers.”
“Lord of… oh… milord? I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand, they… look just as if they were travelling peasants?”
Myrthe quietly approached, whispering softly and lay her hands on his arm.
“Oh, Myr that’s… what a strange and wonderful sensation,” Caerel said, momentarily distracted. Myrthe gestured to the farmer, which reminded him what he was talking about. “Look… here… what’s your name?”
Caerel strode over to one of the corpses and pulled up a dead arm.
“I’m Viktor Trevelyan, milord.”
“Well Master Trevelyan”, Caerel said, dropping the sleeve, “you see this tattoo?”
“Err… yes milord?”
“It identifies this man as a Phansigar, a religious bandit. An outlaw, they join groups of travellers and then murder them in their sleep. They must all be rooted out and brought to the Constable. They are coming down from Oakharrow, through the Westmarch and possibly by boats into the marsh. Unfortunately, as you see, they tend not to give up easily!”
The village elder still looked horrified and confused. Other than the tattoo and a dropped axe, the dead Phansigar looked just like most other pilgrims or peasants. Ala shook her head. She could see this going horribly wrong. Either the Duke’s line could be seen as random murderers or people might take matters into their own hands if rumours started to spread. There would inevitably be mistakes and innocent people would be killed. Ala decided they didn’t really have a choice. They needed a different approach and all she could think of was searching for the Phansigar using the Duke’s own system of local constables. However slow that might end up being, it was less likely to deteriorate into tyranny and random persecution. It did mean that they had to get back to Peyrepertuse as quickly as possible as only the Duke could issue such an order to all the Constables throughout Taladaria.
Myrthe stepped in front of the people that had gathered, whispering something in the language of Guanshiyin. She then stepped forward and spoke to the gathered crowd, in an incredibly clear and mesmerising voice.
“People and guests of Hightower. A group of murderers and rapists known as the Phansigar is travelling in Taladaria. They are a religious and highly motivated cult. If any of you have been east of the Westmarch, you may have heard rumours of them before.”
Myrthe paused for a moment, letting her words sink in.
“The dead men at your feet are members of this group. They can be recognised by a red tattoo of a set of spread wings with two curved swords underneath. They are likely to be disguised as fellow travellers or traders, possibly even pilgrims. Not everyone in a group where they are found is neccesarily one of the Phansigar. If you encounter a suspicious group, please, please remember that the Phansigar are probably holding innocents travelling with them hostage. The Phansigar are extremely dangerous. Be very careful about approaching them, they are trained, fanatic warriors. Inform your Constable at once if you see anyone suspect and warn other travellers about them.”
Myrthe’s speech explained the matter to the gathered crowd. People began to spread out now that it was clear what this had been about. It was still going to start rumours of course, but at least the message here had been clear. After watching the crowd disperse, Ala walked over to where Myrthe and Caerel were now quietly talking.
“We can’t do this everywhere we come by, Caerel,” Myrthe was saying.
Ala agreed with her, “I was just thinking the same thing. We have to get to Peyrepertuse as quickly as possible. The Duke must issue proclamations so the criers can spread the word and it doesn’t look like the Duke’s agents are accosting random travellers.”
“Damn it. The two of you are right. Damn it again. Get to Peyrepertuse. Tell my grandfather. He will have to reinforce the Constables and inform his vassals. I’ll do the same in Pearson, for starters.”
He stomped off towards his men who were still dragging away the bodies.
“I would understand if you prefer to stay with him, you know?” Ala said to Myrthe.
“Oh, you noticed then?”
“It’s rather hard to miss.”
“I did think about it… But no. My Sojourn is with you. I am certain of it. If… there is some chance for this impossible thing, I will find Caerel when it is time. I cannot force it.”
“Myrthe. I will live for another eight hundred years. Well, perhaps not at this rate, but what I mean is… whatever my path is… it could take longer than your lifetime. If there is something there with Caerel, then do it and enjoy it while you can.”
“It’s just,…well… I don’t know enough to know if there’s something there. That’s not all of it. I am an ordained priestess. While there may have been an incredibly remote possibility that a youngest non inheriting daughter might be married to the future Duke of Taladaria, it is certainly not possible for a poverty sworn priestess.”
“You’re sworn to poverty? Really? I didn’t know.”
“It doesn’t generally matter much in practice. Having an extended affair with a Duke’s heir is just… an extraordinary circumstance.”
“I’m probably a bit simple for an elf, Myrthe, but in my two or so centuries of life I’ve learned that where there is love to be had, it’s generally worth embracing it.”
Myrthe looked at her, her eyes dampening. Ala hugged her, which wasn’t something she often did.
“I know Ala. You may be right, but I will be coming with you. For now it feels like what I must do. I am certain of it.”
“Alright. I’d hate to lose you of course, even to one as dashing as Caerel.”
They split ways there. Ala gave Caerel a hug. She was a weird elf and could do things like that and it also meant that Myrthe could do the same without raising too many eyebrows. Myrthe, ever perceptive, noticed.
“Thank you. I had no idea you could be so subtle, Ala.”
“I have a good teacher.”
Matt shook Caerel’s hand. Even they had been getting along passably well. Ulfberht said a formal goodbye and Talathiel managed a nod. They left the courtyard, where there were five new shallow graves at the edge of the field across from the settlement’s entrance. Caerel and his men rode north, towards Pearson and the rest of them continued southeast in the direction of Duilhac.
They made good time on their way to Peyrepertuse, moving fast with only their horses. They had no wagons to worry about which allowed them to cover yet more ground than on the outbound trip. They would have been even faster if it hadn’t been for Ulfberht’s pony. They did run into more Phansigar, which resulted in two more altercations. It cost time too. They had to get the local Constable involved each time. Once he was more than three hours ride away in the village that was responsible for the caravan stop where the incident had taken place. In the end, it took about a week to travel from the Ford Inn back to Duilhac.
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