Session Seventy-Six - July 10, 2010

[Matt]

Nuzyael 24, 732, 10:30pm
Minarsas, Kaldor
Green Dragon Inn

Night has fallen on Minarsas. Goodfolk are asleep in their beds. Drunken laughter bellows from a few inns and taverns here and there. At the tents on the wool common, knights and other warriors trade tales around campfires as they share their wine. An attentive listener might hear the sounds of quiet giggles and moans from more than one tent.

In the courtyard of the Green Dragon Inn, there are brief shouts, and the clang of metal on metal shatters the silence. A sword clatters to the ground, and dark figure runs the recently disarmed man through. The wounded man clutches his stomach and falls to the ground, gasping for air as blood gurgles from his throat. The victor of this brief battle stands over his victim and shakes the blood free from his sword. He crouches and quickly looks around, his ears straining. Seemingly satisfied, he sheaths his sword and trots over to the stables.

Time passes. The goodfolk continue their sleep, perhaps dreaming of good harvests. Some have begun to return home drunkenly. The stories around the campfire continue, although they are punctuated by more yawns. At the Green Dragon, the wounded man is slowly crawling, inch by agonizing inch, towards the stables. In the darkness, the blood trail he leaves behind him is as black as night. The going is slow, but the man does not give up. His right hand reaches out, and he drags his dying body forward another foot. His left hand is clutched on his stomach, soaked in warm, wet blood. He stares forward at his right hand for a moment, remembering how painful losing those two fingers had been. He barks a laugh, coughing up blood. That pain was nothing compared to the torment he was enduring now. He is so thirsty! He looks towards the water trough, so far away. He reaches his hand out again, his three fingers clawing in the dirt to pull himself forward.

At the edge of hearing, the sound of hoof beats fades into the distance.

***

The party was gathered in the common room of the Green Dragon Inn. They were alone for the most part, the gentry having retired to their rooms. Only a few lonely men remained, staring into their drinks with glazed eyes.

Thilisa was still missing. Cekiya had just brought a young woman, Tora of Sordel, to the group, and it appeared that she had witnessed the kidnappers depart for the woods that very morning. At last, they had a lead! Sir Ewen immediately took charge. “Sir Baris, Cekiya, Tora, go to the stables and ready the horses,” he ordered, although his voice was a bit slurred from drink. Sir Baris nodded, stifled a yawn, and led the way out into the cool night air.

He only taken a few steps outside when Cekiya suddenly tapped Baris on the shoulder. “There is a body over there,” she whispered, pointing towards the stables. There the knight saw a body slumped over the water trough. Placing his hand on the pommel of his blade, he scanned the area, but saw nothing of note. The trio trotted over to the body. A shaft of moonlight peeked through the clouds, and in the sudden light Sir Baris saw that the hand- the right hand- of the body clutching the edge of the trough was missing two fingers. A shiver went down his spine. Cekiya knelt down and tapped the stumps- they were not recently removed, she noted. She rolled the body over. It was indeed Arnys. He groaned in his unconsciousness, his left hand gripping his stomach. It was dark with the blood seeping from a gut wound.

“Go get Sir Ewen and Imarë,” Sir Baris ordered, but Cekiya was already on her way.

“Do you know him, Sir Baris?” Tora asked.

The knight nodded. “He is a friend of our retinue,” he said evasively.

“Oh, dear.”

“Keep an eye out.” Sir Baris knelt, lay Arnys on his back and attempted to staunch the wound, but no matter what he did the blood kept pumping out, coating his hands in warm stickiness.

A few minutes later Cekiya returned with Sir Ewen and Imarë. Sir Baris looked helplessly up at the elf, who pushed the knight out of the way and she and Ewen knelt over Arnys, attempting to save the poor man. Unfortunately they had no more luck than Baris. Arnys was simply too far gone. Imarë looked at Sir Ewen, and shook her head sadly.

Ewen nodded grimly. Hoping to find out what happened, what his trusted retainer had died for, the knight tried to read Arnys. He settled his mind as best he could, bored his eyes into Arnys and stretched out his mind. Unfortunately, in his drunken state he could not settle his mind properly, and all he got for his efforts was a worsening headache.

In desperation, Sir Baris splashed water on Arnys's face. “Wake up man!” Arnys moaned, coughed up more blood, but his eyes remained stubbornly shut.

“Arnys,” Ewen whispered in the man's ear, his voice thick.

“Tora, can you do anything?” Sir Baris yelled.

“I can try, Sir Baris,” the woman said, a bit breathlessly. She took over for Imarë and Sir Ewen, holding a blood soaked rag over Arnys's stomach. Suddenly, she felt the bleeding stop. For one instant she thought she had succeeded, but then she realized that the man's breathing had stopped as well.

Arnys was dead.

Sirs Ewen and Baris, Imarë, Cekiya and Tora stood around the body, their arms and clothes covered in blood. From the stables, a horse whinnied in fright as a chance wind carried the scent of blood to the stables, but then the wind shifted and the horse calmed.

Sir Baris paced, his mind racing. He looked down at the body. “The wound is too large to have been made by a knife, this was a sword wound,” the knight said, shoving his feelings aside and focusing on his professional knowledge.

Imarë shook her head sadly. Suddenly, something caught her eye. Her elven eyes focusing in the darkness, she left Sir Ewen kneeling by the body and followed a trail of blood that led behind the brewhouse. The slim elf knelt and studied the tracks. A fight had taken place here. In the starlight she saw a glint, and found Arnys's broadsword. Following the tracks, she saw long strides. Arnys had run from his assailant. The squire had headed towards the inn from the road, from where his assailant came. After a brief struggle, Arnys had fallen and, apparently left for dead, had crawled to the water trough. Imarë knew that a stomach wound could cause extreme thirst. She tried not to think about the agony the man had been in during his last waking moments, desperately crawling to drink as his lifeblood poured out of him.

The elf searched the area around where the squire had fallen, hoping to find the tracks of his assailant. It appeared the poor man had obliterated them crawling towards the water trough. The elf checked the gates, but found no signs of blood there.

While Imarë searched the area, Sir Baris and Tora checked the stables. The doors were closed, but not latched as they should have been. “Sir Ewen!” Sir Baris whispered loudly, motioning for the man to join him. Perhaps the attacker had taken refuge in the stables, and justice could be swiftly meted out!

Sir Ewen, Cekiya, and Tora joined the knight by the stables. Baris drew his sword, and the others followed suit. The knight opened the doors carefully, keeping cover behind the door. Tora raised a lantern, and the trio entered the stable, looking around carefully. Sir Baris strained his ears, but heard nothing amiss.

Quickly, they searched the stalls, but found no hiding murderers. “Tora, do you recognize any of these horses from this morning?” Sir Ewen asked, but the woman shook her head no. The knight noted that one horse was missing, however.

Cekiya shimmied up the ladder and checked the loft. She found the ostler and two apprentices, sound asleep. She shook the ostler.

“Whuh?” the man, Herras, said sleepily, then started when he saw Cekiya, his eyes widening.
“You are needed below,” she said simply. The man nodded.

“Sir Ewen, it's late, did you need one of your horses saddled?” the ostler said once he was below.

“A horse is missing, and one of my men was murdered. Did anyone leave with their horse this evening?” Sir Ewen asked, wasting no time with pleasantries.

The ostler started again. “Ah, No, no one did,” he replied, a bit flummoxed.

“Do you know whose horse was taken?”

The ostler looked towards the empty stall. “That's where Sir Lyndar's horse was stabled!”

“Do you know if Sir Lyndar took the horse?”

“No, he did not!” the ostler said, his voice rising as he realized a horse had been stolen from right under his nose! “Someone must inform him immediately!”

“As I said, a man of mine was slain, just beyond the water trough. I suspect the culprit has stolen the horse.”

Imarë came in and walked over to Sir Ewen. In a quiet voice she told him what she had found. Looking around the stable, she recollected that, other than Iblis, there had been two other black horses in the stable, but only one other black horse was present. “I'll see if I can find any tracks outside the stable,” Imarë said. She motioned to bring her lantern.

In the light of the lantern, the elf saw recent hoof prints. One print, the left rear leg, was deep, indicating that the rider had taken a sharp right upon exiting the building. Moving quickly, Imarë and Tora checked the perimeter of the inn compound. In the northwest corner they found the hoof marks of where a horse had landed after jumping the fence. Unfortunately, after searching about in the heavily traveled road, the elf could not tell where the assailant had gone after that.

***

The party was gathered in the courtyard of the inn. The innkeeper had been sent to wake Sir Lyndar. He came outside in a rush. Sir Lyndar was not with him. “Sir Ewen, Sir Lyndar is missing!” he exclaimed. “I didn't know whether you wished me to wake the baron?”

“Let's not be hasty,” Sir Ewen replied.
“Does Sir Lyndar have a tent on the common?” Imarë asked.

“I don't know,” the innkeeper replied. “I try to not ask such questions of my betters.”

“I did not see Sir Lyndar’s arms in evidence at any of the tents,” Sir Baris stated.

Sir Ewen nodded, and motioned the others for silence. Once again he tried to clear his sluggish mind from the drunken fog. He focused on Sir Lyndar, cast his thoughts out in search of him. Unfortunately, the ale was still in ascendance. He shook his head in frustration.

“Ostler, saddle our horses,” Sir Baris said, looking towards the stable. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, something that had been nagging in the back of his mind ever sine he entered the stables. All of the party's horses were present, despite the fact that they had been informed that there was not room in the stables for all of them. (Iblis upper right, Imarë to left, Filen's to left. Baris's horse to lower left, Cekiya’s horse to the left, and Kaelyn’s to the left of that.) He asked Herras when the servant's horses had been stabled, and the ostler replied that they had been stabled since the party arrived. “Orders from the castle,” the man explained, as he prepared the knight's and servant's horses. Sir Baris decided to look into this matter at a later time, as it was not important at the moment.

While the ostler was preparing the horses, Sir Ewen ordered Imarë to search for more tracks further from the inn, and Cekiya and Kaelyn were sent to see if anyone was hanging about, and if they had seen or heard anything.

“Tora, stay with Imarë, and keep an eye out.” Sir Baris ordered the young woman. She looked slightly disappointed at being sent away from the knight, but nodded.

The ostler brought saddled the horses over. The two knights mounted up and galloped into the night.

***

Imarë and Tora headed along the road than ran by the inn, looking for more fresh hoof prints, but could not make anything useful out. There were two many hoof prints, and in the dim light it was difficult to tell which were most recent. The pair continued on along the road. They passed small fields, the elf's gaze fixed on the ground, while the huntress looked about, making sure no one was sneaking up on the them. After searching for a short time, Imarë shook her head. “I lack the skill to track the man through this.” She sighed. The pair headed west towards Pendeth road, again looking for tracks, but they were similarly unsuccessful.

Meanwhile, Cekiya and Kaelyn walked towards the wool common, listening at the dark tents. All they heard was snoring. At the tent of Sir Coreth Lothlar, however, the flaps were open and the men were sitting about on camp stools around a fire, drinking and staring towards the stock common to the east.

“Gentlemen,” Kaelyn said carefully, as she and Cekiya stepped into the flickering light.

“Oh ho!” one of the men exclaimed. “What a sight you are!” He laughed and slapped his knees. “Are you here to give us some, ah, entertainment?” The other men laughed.

Kaelyn turned red and shook her head no.

“Ah, that's disappointing!” the first man said.

“We're on a mission for our lord,” Kaelyn explained.

The man leered. “Can I give you a new mission?” This last was met by blank stares from the other men, then spreading laughter as the joke percolated through drunken minds.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Kaelyn said without thinking, hoping to get past the subject as quickly as possible. “Did you hear a rider going by about twenty minutes ago?”

“No, all we saw were two wenches leading a horse a few minutes ago,” one of the other men replied. “We called out to them, but they didn't answer us!”

“Ok, thank you,” Kaelyn replied. “Well, we really must be going.

“Come back tomorrow!” the first man called as Kaelyn and Cekiya walked away. “And bring your friend!”

The two women made their way to the tent where the rest of Sir Ewen's retinue was staying and informed them of the night's events. Kaelyn ordered them to watch the roads for Sir Lyndar. Grumbling, the men gathered up their swordbelts.

***

Sir Ewen and Sir Baris reined up at the foot of the castle. Ewen saw a guard, and yelled up to ask if he had seen a lone rider go by in the last half hour. The man had not. Sir Ewen asked him to ask the other guards and inform the Green Dragon if they had seen anything. “No, I won't!” the man yelled. Nonplussed, the knights shrugged and galloped up the hill.

At the top of the hill they halted, and Sir Ewen called for Baris to be quiet. He extended his senses, but could only hear the pounding in his head. Sir Baris neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary. Setting their spurs to their horses, the two rode down the hill and up Pendeth road.

They passed a mill along the bank, but neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary. They rode on a bit further, and paused again to listen. They heard their horses panting, leaves rustling in the breeze, an owl hooting in the distance, but no hoof beats. They cantered along a field and came to a path headed towards the river. The horses bent their heads to drink.

“Should we continue north, or see if Imarë has found anything?” Baris asked.

“Let’s see if Imarë found anything of note.”

***

Nuzyael 25, 732, Midnight
Minarsas, Kaldor
Pendeth Road

At the intersection south of the northern mill Sirs Ewen and Baris found Imarë, Tora, Cekiya, and Kaelyn. After a brief discussion updating each other on what they had learned, the group headed south down Pendeth road. They saw nothing, nor did they find any tracks. They crossed the bridge across from Zoben rode and reined up at the Cask and Flagon.

The door opened, and the light and sound of the inn burst into the night air. A man stumbled drunkenly outside, and behind him a large man, presumably the bouncer, gave the drunk a good kick good in the rump to send him on his way. “Top of the morning, your lordships!” the man said, when he saw the group, and then he staggered down the trail to the south, giggling to himself. Sir Baris had the sudden desire to check the stable of the Cask and Flagon, but it was empty.

“I told you it would be,” Sir Ewen said heatedly.

“Yes, but it is not as if we have any other leads!” Sir Baris said, and looked about the dark village, hoping against hope to see something, anything, that would lead the group to Arnys's murder, or perhaps Thilisa! The party trotted down the road, and passed a mill.

Sir Baris idly wondered why there were two mills in town. That was strange. Come to think of it, he did not remember seeing granaries at the northern mill. Something clicked. “Sir Ewen! Don't you think it odd that there are two mills in town? The northern one seems abandoned- that might be a good place to hide someone - perhaps Thilisa!” Sir Ewen nodded in agreement. “Yah!” The group turned their horses about and thundered up the road until they came upon their men at arms at the northern junction. The party handed their horses off to them and headed towards the mill on foot, taking Rolloch and a few other men with them.

As they approached the mill, Imarë noticed that the water wheel that it was not turning. She pointed this out quietly to Sir Ewen. The mill was composed of two attached buildings, with a single door at the junction of the smaller of the two buildings and the mill proper, and a double door on the northeast face of the mill. The windows on both stories were shuttered.

Rolloch suggested that he and another man at arms shut down retreat from the docks behind the mill. Ewen nodded and the men hustled off.

After a short discussion, Sir Baris led Tora and Kaelyn towards the double doors, while Sir Ewen led Cekiya and Imarë towards the single door at the junction.

Cekiya scouted ahead and tried to open the single door, but it was locked from the inside. The waif listened at the shuttered window, but heard nothing of note. She shimmied up to the second floor and listened at each of those windows in turn, but still heard nothing. The windows appeared to be barred from the inside. She slid her knife in between the shutters and tried to lift the bar, but could not lift the bar. She surmised that the bar did not lift but instead slid to the side. Frustrated, Cekiya agilely crept back to the ground floor.

Meanwhile, Sir Baris's group had reached the double door. Sir Baris nodded at Kaelyn, who cast her ice sword spell as per their hastily arranged plan. The woman quietly spoke the words of power, deftly waving her hands through passes of power. A shard of ice appeared in her right hand, glowing with a soft blue light. The shard grew in crystalline fashion upwards until it reached a wicked point, seeming to pierce the air. The young mage nodded grimly, steeling herself for the work ahead.

Sir Baris opened the door and peered inside. He saw a large empty room, open to the second story, with a broken wheelbarrow leaning against the left wall. Sir Baris could faintly make out a wooden apparatus on the far side of the room. As entered the room and could make it out more clearly in the strange light created by Tora's lantern and Kaelyn's flickering ice blade, he saw the empty space where the millstones would have been. Light glinted off many gears, and poles thrust around the room at many angles. One large pole headed through the wall towards the back of the building, presumably to the water wheel. Looking down, Sir Baris saw that other than their footprints, the dust on the floor did not appear to be recently disturbed. There was a large interior door leading to the other building.

Signaling for silence, the knight tried to open the other door, but it was locked. Imarë listened at the door, but heard nothing through the thick wood. Sir Ewen stared at the door, attempting to extend his senses through it and ascertain what they were facing, but he was unsuccessful. Sir Ewen gestured for the party to follow him, and headed outside and towards the outer door to the other building. He again attempted to extend his senses, and this time he was successful. He realized the door, too, was barred by a sliding bar, not a lifting bar.

Ewen sent Cekiya and Kaelyn to scout the rear, but they quickly returned, informing him that there were no other doors to the smaller building. The windows were similarly locked and shuttered, Baris noted as he tried to pull them open.

Sir Ewen stared at the door, clearing his mind as best he could. Fortunately, the effects of the alcohol were wearing off, and adrenalin was kicking in. He focused his mind on the bar on the inside of the door, and reached out his hand. Slowly but surely, he willed the bar to slide to the side and fall gently- and silently - to the floor. He gave the party a small grin.

Cekiya went to the door, flanked by Kaelyn with her softly glowing sword. Imarë secreted herself behind some nearby trees, guarding the double doors, bow drawn, arrow nocked. With a final nod of confirmation from Sir Ewen, Cekiya opened the door and rushed in, shortly followed by Kaelyn with her sword lighting the way for the rest of the group.

Inside the small room were two pallets on which two figures slept. There was a single door on the left hand wall, and on the far wall a staircase led up to the second story. Suddenly, the two figures shot up, apparently not at all asleep, and ran towards Cekiya, broadswords already in their hands.

The woman charged forward, ducked under the first man's clumsy attempt to block and stabbed him in the gut. The man grabbed his stomach and fell to the floor, groaning. Cekiya nimbly dodged the panicked attack of the second man, and then merely reached out to stab him in the thigh. He stumbled and fell, dropping his sword. He reached for it, but the woman placed her foot on the man's sword arm. “I yield,” he croaked.

Sir Baris rushed up beside Cekiya, sword ready. “Well done,” he growled. He headed upstairs half-heartedly, hoping to find something to hit.

Sir Ewen strode over and calmly put his sword to the man's throat. His eyes flashed in anger. “Where is the Lady?” he said slowly, barely containing his rage.

Cekiya put more weight on the poor man's arm. “She's in the granary,” he sobbed, pointing towards the door.

“And Sir Lyndar?” Ewen asked.

“He left,” the man said helpfully.

“What did he come to tell you?” Cekiya asked.

“I don't know, he spoke to the Lady,” the man groaned.

Sir Ewen opened the door on the left. He saw a stone room with wooden columns lining the walls and beams crossing the ceiling. On the far side of the room was a barred, chained and padlocked door. Lying on a pallet in the left hand corner was a female figure with her hands were tied behind her back. The knight rushed over to the Lady, untied her bonds and removed her gag.

“Ewen!” Thilisa exclaimed. She threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely.

***

After Sir Baris reported that he had found no one else in the mill, the party took their prisoner and the Lady Thilisa directly to the castle. Along the way, Thilisa explained that Sir Lyndar had pretended to be Sir Ewen for a long period of time, but she was not fooled.

The party was immediately taken to the Earl. The nobleman had not slept, and he looked haggard, but his face lit up and he wept when he saw his daughter.

“Thank you, thank you for finding my daughter,” the Earl said. “Everyone should get a good night's sleep. We'll discuss your reward in the morning.” After disengaging herself from her father's embrace, Lady Thilisa turned to Sir Ewen and took him by the forearm. “Come by in the morning,” she whispered. Ewen nodded and bid her a restful night.

When the party returned to the Green Dragon, the ostler informed them that Sir Lyndar had returned a mere half hour after they had left. However, he and someone else departed an hour later. His companion did not come from the inn, the ostler stated matter of factly.

Sir Ewen and Sir Baris looked at each other. Dark circles ran under their eyes, their clothes were dirty and ripped in places, and they looked quite haggard. “Let us deal with this on the morrow,” Sir Baris stated.

“Indeed,” Sir Ewen replied.

The party went to bed for a well earned rest.

***

Nuzyael 25, 732, 10:00am
Minarsas, Kaldor
Green Dragon Inn

Sir Ewen's blissful sleep was rudely interrupted by the harsh sound of Sir Prehil's voice coming from the common room of his suite. “Where is everyone! What's going on!”

Through the door, Ewen heard Imarë's much softer voice. “They had a late night.”

“Where the fuck is Sir Lyndar!”

The elf smiled. “You'll have to ask him about that.”

“All I know is that the Baron is storming about the inn, wondering where his son is!”

Sir Ewen entered, tying the knot of his dressing gown. “Sir Prehil, will you join us for a bite of breakfast?”

“I will! I don't care about Lyndar as much as breakfast!” He laughed. “But seriously, the ostler says he is gone.”

“I would like to find him, because I believe he killed one of my men,” Ewen said.

“Morgath's bones, man!” Prehil became serious. “Killed one of your men, who?”

“My squire.”

“That's quite an accusation, Sir Ewen, do you have proof?”

“Yes, I believe I do, and I believe Sir Lyndar has much more to answer for.”

“I believe I will stay for breakfast!” Prehil sat down at the table. “What's been going on? I hope I didn't sleep through it all!”

As some servants brought a small breakfast, Ewen gave Prehil the bare bones details of the events of the past few days, up to the rescue of Thilisa.

“It's unbelievable, I've known the man almost all my life - yet, I do believe you, Sir Ewen. If there is anything I can do to help, just ask.”

Ewen nodded, and gripped Prehil's shoulder. “I count you a friend, Sir Prehil.”

“And I, too, consider you and Sir Baris my friends.”

***

After breakfast, Sirs Ewen and Baris, reasonably rested and properly dressed, made their way up to the castle. Meanwhile, Tora returned to the Cask and Flagon to retrieve her bow to prepare for the archery contest. Kaelyn and Cekiya staked out a good place to watch what was sure to be an exciting display of marksmanship.

Upon arrival at the castle, the knights were quickly let in, and escorted to the great hall, however their weapons were confiscated. There, they were made to wait on the Earl.

After a short time, the Earl, his wolfhound, his chamberlain, his captain of the guard, Sir Kobar, and Sir Rollard, arm in sling, came down the stairs. The Earl stood before the two knights, and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I thank you both for what you have done, and I am deeply sorry that I entertained any suspicions of you.” At this last, the Earl gave Sir Rollard a significant look.

Sir Rollard reluctantly shuffled forward. “Suh Ewen, Suh Baris, it pains me to have to say how verah verah wrong Ah was.” Sir Baris coughed. “Ah was taken in by the dastardly plot of Suh Lyndar Bastune, a knave who has uhpparently fled this jurisdiction. Suh Ewen, Ah find that Ah have to thank you, indeed thank you from the bottom of mah heart, you have indeed effected the safe return of mah Lady the Countess Thilisa. Ah have not been your champion, Suh Ewen, and yet Ah find, in the end...” his voice trailed off, and Rollard paused. A look of pain crossed his face. “In the end,” he continued, “you did mah job. Ah am your humble servant, Suh.”

“I thank you for your words, Sir Rollard. You are a devoted servant of the Lady, and for that I continue to esteem you.”

“Ah thank you Suh.” Rollard stepped back, and the Earl stepped forward..

“Well spoken, Sir Ewen. Now that you have saved my daughter, I confess I am at a complete loss. I never expected that Lyndar Bastune, of all people, would be behind this.” He shook his head. “Indeed, I would have considered him a worthy suitor for my daughter had he presented himself. And yet, there was never any indication that he was interested.” The Earl's eyes flashed in anger. “He has fled, and I must now determine if his father, whom I hold in far less esteem, was involved.”

“I will not ask you your opinion on this matter, for it is not necessary. You have my gratitude, and you may beg, both of you, a boon of me. You may take your time considering it.”

The Earl looked Ewen straight in the eye, and his voice took a harder edge. “My lady daughter has asked to thank you in person, Sir Ewen. She is, at the moment, resting from her ordeal. When the time comes,” the Earl looked down, and slowly pet his wolfhound on the head, “do not forget your station.”

***

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The hammering rang out over the stock common in the center of which a nameless carpenter was preparing an X shaped frame. Just large enough to hold a man. Peasants crowded about in a rough circle, clamoring for the best view of the upcoming entertainment.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Back! Back I say!” Town guards did their best to keep the crowd back, pushing with their shields, using their fists when necessary.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The carpenter hammered the last nail on the frame, then shook it, testing its sturdiness. He nodded to a guard, who gave him a small pouch of coins. Shaking his head, the carpenter melted into the crowd.

From the back of the common, yells rang up. “There he is, the bastard!” A rotten cabbage was thrown, striking the poor soul, Bors the actor, as he was brought through the crowd as guards rudely shoved a path.

The victim's eyes fell upon the frame. “No, No!” he screamed, and struggled against his captors. A mailed fist slapped him, and he fell to his knees. A second guard roughly grabbed the actor by the shoulders, lifted him up, and held him while the first guard lashed him to the frame. Then the two guards stepped back, smiling with grim anticipation.

Suddenly, silence spread throughout the crowd. A beefy, barrel chested man wearing a grim black hood strode forward with long strides. He unfurled his wicked looking bullwhip, and surveyed the crowd. The smallfolk cringed when that fell gaze fell upon them. Somewhere, a child started crying. The torturer looked upon the Earl's steward, Sir Gorlin.

The elderly man nodded. “Do your duty!” He turned to the actor. “Fifty lashes!” The crowd gasped. The torturer, silent as death, merely drew back his arm, and then brought it forward with lightning speed.

Crack!

Bors screamed at the first lash. It left a nasty red welt against his naked back.

Crack!

He started blubbering and weeping for his mother.

Crack!

After the third lash, he was wailing continuously. The crowd was silent, except, somewhere, someone was laughing.

Sir Ewen pushed his way through the crowd. “Enjoy your encore, thespian,” he spat.

“Sir Toren Curooo!” Bors screamed, over and over. By the twelfth lash, he passed into peaceful oblivion.

The whipping continued.

By the fiftieth lash, his back was a bloody mass of pulped flesh, and in some places bloody bones shone through. He would never be the same.

Two guards came forward. One man slipped in the blood-slick mud. The ties were cut, and the broken body crumpled to the ground. Some peasants, apparently friends of the actor, came forward to drag him away.

Another actor was brought forward. His eyes were wide in abject horror. As if in a daze, he walked forward and allowed himself to be tied to the frame. The torturer looked back at Sir Gorlin, who nodded. “Ten lashes!” The hood moved about the mouth. Was the torturer grinning?

The whipping continued.

***

The time of the archery contest had come. The peasants gathered, and the twenty five entrants crowded about the ten targets, taking up their positions in the queues. Several yards away bales of hay were set up with wooden targets mounted upon them. The first few archers steadied themselves, making last minute checks of their weapons.

“Archers, draw arrows!” the contest official cried.

“Archers, loose!”

Ten arrows streaked towards their targets, some with better aim than others. Boys rushed out, checked the arrows, and called out the scores of each of the participants. After the first few rounds, more than half of the entrants were winnowed out.

The herald announced those who survived to the semifinals. “Lerin of Vaben!” This worthy was the Beadle of Lothlarny. “Jastan of Hansot!” He was one of Sir Morgal's rangers. “Mya of Elrow!” She was Sir Andro Valador's huntress. “Finbar of Erons!” the herald cried. “Melas Rilthor!”

Imarë's ears perked up when she heard the name Rilthor, for that was an elven Clan name. “Imarë Taërsi!” came the call, and Melas winked at her.

“Tora of Sordel!” the herald cried, and the young woman stood a little taller.

As the contest continued, it became clear that, in the end, it was really a contest between Jastan of Hansot, Tora of Sordel, Melas Rilthor, and Imarë Taërsi. When the final tallies came in, Melas Rilthor came in first place with a score of thirty-one, winning the mysterious elf a pound. Tora of Sordel came in second with a score of twenty-eight, earning one hundred twenty pence. Interestingly, Imarë Taërsi and Jastan of Hastan shared third place with twenty-three points each, and they split sixty pence.

After the contest, Melas Rilthor sought out Imarë. He caught her eye, and then surveyed the grounds, his gaze finally resting upon the abandoned archery targets. “I would have expected more from you.”

“I haven't perfected my art yet.”

“What a shame,” Melas shook his head sadly. “Some of these humans display great talent.” He scoffed. “However I am surprised to see a member of so distinguished a House in such a place.”

“Everyone follows their own path,” Imarë said evasively.

“It is a twisted path that brings you hither.”

Imarë smiled ruefully. “You don't know the half of it.”

“I would know the half of it.” Melas gave her a significant look. “I am staying in Colm's wood.”

“And I am staying at the Green Dragon.”

Melas smiled a superior smile. “Ah yes, the Green Wyvern.”

“I will stop by later, we can do some catching up.”

“Poetry, song, and proper food.” Melas laughed as he melted away.

Meanwhile, Sir Baris was conversing with an excited Tora. “Sir Baris, did you see, I won second place! I would have won first place, but did you see, I think he was an elf!” She paused, and a look of panic crossed her face. “But your companion did very well,” she said quickly.

“Tora, you show great skills, both of observation and archery.”

Tora she giggled, and her face reddened. “You flatter me, Sir Baris.” She cast her eyes downward.

“Cekiya informs me that you are looking for work.”

Tora looked up. “I am looking for a position in service to a knight or a lord.”

“Would you like to join Sir Ewen and I?” He rubbed his right hand for some reason. “You are apparently a superior archer to Imarë.”

“I would be honored to enter your service, Sir Baris.”

The knight smiled. “I would be happy to have you entered as a member of my personal retinue.”

“I am sure you will do well by me, Sir Baris. I am at your command.”

The knight nodded. “We'll work out the details later. For now let's go celebrate your victory and you can tell me more about yourself.”

***

Ewen returned to the Green Dragon. “Sir Ewen, I have a message for you, from the castle. The Lady Thilisa asks that you meet with her at your tent on the wool common this evening at six o'clock.” Sir Ewen nodded, and had Filen send word that it would be his utmost honor to receive the Lady his tent. A short time later, Filen returned, looking quite unhappy. He had been rebuffed at the gatehouse.

“It is no matter, we will still prepare. Filen, my good man, you have an hour to prepare the tent.” Filen's eyes widened, he gibbered a bit, swung his hands in the air, and ran off. He didn't see Ewen's small smile.

Sir Baris politely suggested that his friend take a bath. “My friend, you smelleth.”

After Sir Ewen's quick bath, Filen ran in, holding pieces of Ewen's Ebon Kald outfit. “You should wear this. Excuse me, Sir, but I must attend to other matters!” He rushed off again. A moment later, he came back, laid the clothes on Sir Ewen's bed, and rushed back out.

At ten of six, Sir Ewen arrived at the tent. Rolloch, Potelc and the other guards asked what they were to expect. “Filen has been running like mad, but he says he has no time to tell us what is going on!”

“A highborn lady is coming, you are to show your utmost respect.” He turned to his captain. “Rolloch, I will police my men.”

Ewen's small force gathered and stood at attention while the knight inspected them.

Inside the tent, Filen was fussing about. He had a flagon of wine in one hand, and sweet tarts in another. He looked about, trying to remember the proper place to put them. Sir Ewen entered. “Filen, just put them on the table. All will be fine.” Filen, defeated, did as he was bid.

At that point, one Finbar of Erons pulled back the tent flap. “Sir Ewen of Ravinargh?”

“I am here.”

Finbar stepped inside the tent and then stepped aside to make way for the hooded figure behind him. “My Lady, the Dowager Countess of Osel.” Thilisa stepped inside, pulled back her hood, and gave Finbar a nod. He stepped out. She surveyed the room, settled her gaze upon Rolloch and Filen, and taking the hint, they too, scurried out. Cekiya, who was hiding in the corner, gave a tiny giggle. Thilisa glared at her for two heartbeats. The waif did an awkward curtsy and shuffled outside. They were now alone.

Thilisa walked straight up to Sir Ewen. “I'm yours. I will marry you. Now.”

Ewen's eyes widened slightly. “Thilisa, my heart has always been yours.”

Thilisa curtsied. “I had tested you, my lord, but I did not know what I did. I apologize for such frivolousness.”

“Not at all, my Lady.”

“It so happens,” Thilisa said coyly, “that I have convinced my father's chaplain to attend me this evening.” She straightened her hair. “He will need, I suspect, a new position after tonight.”
Sir Ewen smiled broadly. “The chaplain will have my eternal gratitude and protection. Your father has already informed me that I am presumptuous with my feelings towards you.”

Thilisa returned the smile, and stroked the knight's cheek. “It is not my father who has to worry about the future.”

“The future is ours, and we shall grasp it together Thilisa.”

“Father Garin is waiting, shall I call him in?”

Ewen nodded, and Thilisa went to the tent flap to let Father Garin and Sir Rollard in. Rollard bowed to Sir Ewen.

“Sir Baris, if you please,” Thilisa said out the door, and that worthy knight stepped inside, a silly grin on his face. At Thilisa's invitation, he was followed by Lady Valador and Kaelyn.

Thilisa turned to the priest. “Father Garin.”

The priest said a brief prayer, and began the ceremony. “Do you, Sir Ewen, take this woman?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Lady Countess, take this knight?”

“I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, and what Larani has joined let no man set asunder.” He smiled a nervous smile. “You may kiss the bride.”

Ewen breathed deep, gathered Thilisa in his arms, and kissed her.

Soon thereafter, the happy couple was left alone to consummate their marriage.