*Marwen*
He crawled out of the sewers of Crown's Harbor. Muck and nightsoil covered his clothes. He fell on the ground, stood up and fell again on a pile of orange leaves sobbing in defeat. He lied there for the whole day. Even as the tears dried up more of them took their place. As the cold winds from the west struck him, he lied on the ground. As more leaves trickled upon him and the rain pattered his clothing turning it ragged he sat there. To his surprise none of the guard seemed to go as far as to search the forest. He was armed for sure. With the sword and runed iron shield Lord Edward gifted him.
The lack of using made both sword and shield feel like added weight. At times the thought of abandoning them crossed his mind. Stubborn in his memory to when his Lord gifted him with that sword and shield drove im to keep it. As rain poured so to would the squire's regret. What did that sword and runed shield do for lord Greywind. He was sworn to protect his lord and now he lies dead in the streets of Crown's Harbor. Arrows sticking out of him. His pained and ragged breaths. The small rivulets of blood that came from his mouth. All he could do at that moment was hold him til the last. Every day the memory took its chance to fester in his head. An open sore lingering in the sun giving way to air and infection.
Other days the guilt would mingle with anger and most of his night were filled with the thoughts of slaying the men responsible. Revenge, that's what I need. He thought.
As the days of autumn grew shorter. vengeance stained Marwen's heart. Amongst other emotions. He swore to protect all he owned and now Justin is dead, Tobyn and Samantha remained captured and Windreach is probably in ruins for all he knew.
The north is now at war with the south. From what he remembered from the last council meeting, Torren and Richard are in alliance after Richard came to Torren's aid in the Battle of Oyster Point and now their forces outnumber that of the king's. The question that plagued his mind was where he was in all of this. Not with his lord as he wished to be and not on the front lines with Torren. “go to Autumnfall” Lord Edward told him. He wished to ask what in hells name would he be doing in Autumnfall. There was no mission no purpose. With Torren he'd fight tooth and nail for his Branch and name. Yet to defy his lord's wishes after his death would also be an insult in itself.
The third day passed,... or was it the fourth day? Marwen lost track of time lying on the ground. Mud dried on his cheeks. He scratched the mud off paying no heed to the itch. Five hours of treading the forest had him at the main road. North was where he headed. The forest was bright. The woods more brown than black. The trees were silent save for the leaves that danced from the wind birds that chirped as they perched and the for the. Not like the windwoods which were much taller and brooding. A man could feel how awake, how aware they were of any man woman or child's presence. Thinking of it made him miss the times where he, Torren and tobyn, Justin and Samantha would play children's games in the forest. When Torren and Tobyn grew, they leaned more towards hunting.
As the days went by it felt as though those memories kept him alive. Or sane for that matter. One morning was ridden with fog. Three trees had a dozens crows perched upon the branch. One crow stared at him with eyes glowing blue as the morning sky. “Feed me” Said the crow. Instead of a caw came a voice that sounded almost human yet had an ominous tone. “Feed me”
“What?” Croaked the desolate squire, puzzled.
“you heard me boy. Feed me.” The next thing he knew a sword was a hair away from his neck. He moved from it in time enought to block it. Making a strike of his own, Marwen’s block threw the man’s arm down to disarm him. Successful, he made a sharp right-center cut. The blade stopped at an angle of marwen’s left shoulder as it was finished travelling through the meat of the man’s neck and further into mid air and his head fell to the ground.
The next man came attempting to put his ax in Marwen’s shoulder. Or neck for that matter. Marwen moved under his waist and pivoted. His sword chopped into his upper leg. The bandit went on one knee. Marwen moved the blade across his legs and drove the sword through the man's neck.
“yes” the crow moaned gutturally. Gaping his beak open in refreshment. The morsels of the man's flesh tethered at every peck, every rip the crow's beak delivered proving how ravenous with hunger it must've been. Marwen himself could sympathize with the bird since he hadn't eaten in three days.
“you will feed me. You will feed my brothers and friends. You will feed my wives and my children as you embark on this quest where you will claim many lives along the way. You will serve me in life and in death.”
the squire's lips began to perch to a frown. A darkness took his eyes. His fingers coiled to a fist gripping the sword and as the grip tightened he raised it having the tip give a cold kiss to his neck. The sword whistled as the angered squire lowered his shoulders and brought the sword down, aiming to cleave the crow in two. Feathers and claws were flapping in his face before he even blinked.
He fell to the ground. Mud from a puddle behind him splashed on his back. Brown drops landed to his face. Second time he had mud on his face journeying through these woods. He would surely have need of a nearby river yet that seemed either further east or further west. The nearest one he could remember was Lemon River. Since he as heading north he might as well be on his way there in weeks. Maybe months. For all he knew that amount of time had already passed.
He found himself coughing, hacking and hurling out whatever lingered in his throat. “Your path will find darkness, light and darkness again. Yet you must walk it, Ysingyr.” he turned his head, hearkening the familiar voice. Glimpsing a monstrous figure that covered bottom half of the tree.
“Well, you've been busy.”Marwen jested holding his brooding gaze. The beast had grown bigger than he remembered. Nearly a mammoth. Its jet-black claws matching any sword or spear castle-forged or otherwise. Some of the hind teeth were protruding like horns and its fur more ragged from the wild. Marwen couldn't help but to notice the fresh scars on its left side and arm.
“*Growl* There were many southron men at your path and I was hungry...*growl*. The food down here is growing scarce from war and coming winter so I've...*growl* slain them.”
“Will you come with me to Autumnfall?”
“My place is...*growl* indeed by your side, Wind-bearer but I must remain in the shadows. As much as I enjoy striking fear into the hearts of men...*growl*...that same fear mingled with their ignorance and misunderstanding can very well be the end of my life as well as yours by...*growl* ...association.”
“you...*growl*… sadly must tread this path alone and you will find many willing to aid you and ...*growl*...betray you at the same note.” The crow then perched upon the bear's shoulder.
“Farewell, Ysingyr.” they said before taking their leave.
It was a pity that the beast...or at least that accursed bird was not willing to journey alongside him. Striking fear into men was exactly what Marwen would need on this journey. He had skill with sword, surely...yet his skill could not measure up to that of Torren's, Tobyn's, Sur Ryland's or to that of all of the knights and fighters of the Westfold. Therefore it would only take him but so far. In a week's pass he was out of the forest and into open fields. Fog came about the air on the next day. Twelve miles onward was a castle nearby almost the size of Windreach. It was as black as night whereas Windreach was gray like the fog that hung in the air. The towers that loomed over the castle were smaller than that of his former home. Walking closer to it the bricks cold be seen to be thin and some thick. Uneven in a sense.
Blackroast, Marwen remembered back from when Aereon escorted him, Lord Edward, Torren and Tobyn when they were in the company of Richard and his issue. Thinking of Aereon made him grimace and his fist clench and thinking of Lord edward had a tear come to his eyes. Go to Autumfall,Edward told him and as a squire of Branch Greywind he had to obey. He turned from Blackroast and went into the forest on the other side crossing the other side.
At a tree he laid for the night. No chair nor pillow to comfort his backside as it has been for nearly a month. Grass and broken branches lie beneath the light brown oaks. Sunlight was more visible in these part of the woods. The next morning he pissed on a tree near a small river. *crack,crrrack*.
Marwen's head turned backwards to the sound. *crrrack, cr-aacck*. The tree moaned as it collapsed. He stood behind the tree for hours until the cutting of the other trees stopped. Sadly it did not. Footsteps approached growing closer by each step. His sword was readied and his fingers slick with anxious sweat and near dropping it. The grip his fist made grew looser as the sweat came rushing from his pores. Thin, crisp air caressed his skin more supple than fresh wolf's fur. An ax whistled behind him having a hair or two stand up on his neck. Despite the sweat his fist held a grip firm enough to hold it. In hearing one more step, Marwen's instincts took over. His sword moved as his eyes blinked and opened again swift like the wind. He spun around, circling the tree. His sword took the ax, threw it away with a pivot and bit through tattered tunic and flesh.
Only when the man befallen pitched a loud scream holding the red ruin that was once his ribcage, breast and nipple. A reflection on his sword casted him with a blood of what he perceived a foe only for a moment's time. Clarity became his foe now. Looking down at the man screaming in pain made the now fugitive squire stand straight like a spear. A devil at his shoulder would tell him to end the man's suffering, that he knew. Yet the children at their mother's breast and the other men lifting food and goods on their wagons, wains and horses catered to the honor a dead lord once taught him.
“who are you? Speak.”a woman yelled at him. She was a rather betite woman with barely any breast to speak of yet had a squared, stocky waist. She threw an ax right at the shaken squire's feet. “I will not ask again.”
Marwen struggled to find his words “I...i'm...
“Gwen, leave the boy.”
“He killed one of us-
“_Now” the girl known as Gwen stormed off kicking dozens of leaves and bits of clay-spotted soil like a heavy gust of winds.
“im...i'm sorry.” the squire's eyes grew big as acorns. A feverish bit of sweat took his brow.
“Yes, indeed you are sorry boy.” the man spoke brusquely. He was of fairer height than “Gwen” and longer hair kissed with gray and a beard ruffled like tattered hay on his face. “Just as sorry as this lot...*scoffs*.were heading to the Masterlands for proper housing. War will have the prices jumping like a whore's tit in a month's turn.”
“Skill like that, we could use that on the road. Are you a soldier on the run?”
“My path lies north. “
“North, ha, ha...” the man laughed. The other peasants, serfs, farmers and heldmen laughed with him. “you ain't finding a cozy home in those parts lad.” the man warned.
Marwen growled under is breath. “What's your name, friend?”
“Edward.” that struck Marwen like fresh rainfall on winter's eve. Cold and bitter to the touch. Why should he have that name? The gods have played a cruel joke on the boy having him cross paths with a man bearing the same name as a man he held dear as his own family and of lesser status. Marwen turned his back on the man. A brood looming of shadow from a pain lesser than the one he felt a month ago as he held his dying Lord Edward in his arms.
“hold a minute boy, we would have need of a swordsman on our travels.” the man named Edward approached him. The girl Gwen and the man bleeding, pale in the face and lying on the floor betrayed a look of distrust for Marwen.
“Most of you are farmers, I don't think crossing mountainous terrain is the best idea.” Marwen advised bitterly. “I'd turn to lands around the Middlelands and Rivermarch.”
“Rivermarch will be at war siding with the north. And i'm a ship's master not a farmer. I need work around the masterlands and besides, the tax to enter Masterport is lower than what it would be at Riverpoint or Fairharvest.”
“Then what about most of the farmers?”
“Most of them will split off and go their own way and as it seems as will you.” Callous was the man's answer. These people cross what will be war-torn land in three weeks time. Marwen had half a mind to kill the man and lead this herd of human sheep. Though that would shatter any trust the group would have of them he wouldn't care. All he needed from them was fear. He needed to be the bear yet in human form and protect this flock from the wolves that prowl the land.
In reluctance, the ragged squire stayed his hand. Another night fell upon them and Marwen was a man at war with sleep. Memories served as a curse to him . He thought of the time they were at the feast of Brendenton when he and Tobyn were of similar age and Torren older by half a year. Even the king and his princes were there along with a slew of other noble families. The realm was at peace at that time. It was together as it should be. He had to serve food and wine with the other squires.
Torren smacked a piece of bread from the platter. Marwen playfully chased torren down across the hall. Their laughter drowning out the chatter of the crowd. An aura of warmth radiated his heart as they ran merrily through table after table. The lords would have to raise their feet to make way for them. Some growled under their teeth, others would make a light chuckle or two. He remembered the other squires looked down on him that day as well. Probably thought that he was an unwashed savage, no doubt. What made the memory more heartfelt was seeing Lord Edward laughing haughtily like never before. His lord was a grim, far seeing man most of the time. Never a man to laugh much. Especially around his sons. Marwen could've sworn that he was putting up a facade of sorts only to curse us after the feast. Yet that was not the case either. All he wanted was his wife, his children. The Thought grew more bitter as it played in his grief-stricken mind. The king, Phaeus is as cruel as that bastard son of his. Denying him of that.
Marwen held a tight grip on his sword by the fuller. Even as the steel bit through his flesh and the blood smeared on the rusting steel his grip grew tighter making him bite down hard on his teeth. He could feel the cold of night mingle with his blood and freezing his very bones. Shivers and quakes coursed through his flesh. The warmth of his heart fleeting from him like a skirmish in the woods. I will see them burn. The King, the Queen the princes, and the princess. I swear it.
Veins on his head began to throb. His teeth clattered, stretching from his mouth. His head declined inch by inch. Breaking him down to his core. Tears welled in his eyes. He slapped himself with a hand covered in his blood. A rage took him over and he slapped himself again and again and again until his face was red with crimson.
With one last slap he stood himself up and bellowed to the night skies. Caring not for who hears him. And with the bellows came a sapping of his strength for the night. Weakness and tingling took his legs and had him fall sitting on a tree sobbing all the while. The sadness enslaved him for the remainder of the night. The wolves began to howl. Over the episode he had just hours ago, no doubt.
Twilight came and the squire's eyes were on the sky. Earlier, it was to the earth. The group was moving well before first light. Marwen had half a mind to stay where he was, paralyzed by grief. A statue, clinging to a tree, fallen leaves and cold, hard dirt. Edward...not his lord…tapped him on the shoulder. That only served to irritate him. “Come on boy, I could barely sleep with the racket you were making.”
“You know nothing of my pain...peasant.” Marwen spoke irritably.
“You think that you're the only man here on the run. We all got skeletons in our closets boy.”
“I don't care to hear you, any of you. I wish to be left alone.” Marwen threw a dagger that went over the man's head. Marwen bristled like a boar ready to charge. Fumes of steam came puffing from his nose. His eyes grew wide as an open field and his face half red like an overripe tomato. The man held his hands up in surrender. After the man retreated to the rest of the refugees Marwen went to the tree to remove his dagger from the bark. The road lead them to the Fairwood forest.
The land grew more hilly the further north they treaded. Fair oaks and sentry pines towered above them. Each where split wide apart from one another, allowing the sunlight to shine upon the earth unhindered. Next morning the refugees passed a one story house that was missing a roof. The roof was charred, reduced to cinders and ash. Marwen could not say much for the people that lived there. Only that he'd hope they survived. They crossed through dykes, forest hills and rivulets. The rivulets led to a much larger stream up ahead.
For three hours they stayed to hunt for deer or squirrels. They only found squirrels. Almost like Tobyn did that one time in the windwoods before they came to Crown's Harbor. Further north came more open field and larger hills upon the way. Small patches of oaks and pines stood with bushes, blackthorns and thickets beneath them. Some of the peasants splintered off from the rest of the group heading to the eastern road. Looking east was a great white castle with a wall eighty feet high. The squire counted twenty towers, or more. Some hugging tight around a great white hall. The banner was a farmer holding a cart of grain and barley on a field of green. “Branch Barley of….
“...Fairharvest.” Edward told him. “Like I said boy, these people won't be sticking around with me. They need good work and good pay. At Crown's Harbor them guards would be damn near beatin' these poor bastards to death and the king would happily turn the other cheek as long as he and his royal runts got their bread.”
The man spoke true “Where are we headed?”
“Riverpoint. Then on to Brendenton.”
“You have some fisherman too no doubt.”
“Shall I restate my purpose then.”
“No you may not.” Marwen interrupted him. “We'll have to make camp afar from the castle come nightfall, if you want to keep your head. They'll send their horsemen to patrol the land around them for spies.”
Come nightfall, the group was twenty miles from the castle. Marwen stood atop a hill to the south, allowing the fleeting warmth of the southern winds and peering at specks of torchlight lurking in the forest. Flames in the woods danced to and fro and the men bearing the light had no clue that they were sent on a pointless errand. Lord Edward once told him that if men-at-war hate one thing, it is riding out with sword in hand for no good reason.
A thought dark as the night crossed his mind. He thought of sneaking in there, killing those men and stealing those horses. The only risk would be his life, or a substantial bounty. None of such consequences mattered to him. He is an outlaw for the sake of a honorable man telling the truth and protecting his family and home and just like those men in the woods, he felt as though that same man sent him on a pointless errand. For another night he stood restless. Standing atop the hill as the moon shifted to twilight and sunlight rising from the east.
Marwen kicked the man of his lord's namesake in the belly to rouse him from his sleep.
“What,boy” The man grumbled, scolding Marwen. Marwen only betrayed a glance blank of emotions.
“We have to move, don't need any cutthroats on your trail.”
“Why do you give a rat's arse what happens to us?” the man replied. “ You've been sulking ever since we took you in and it seems you have no regard for yourself. I see you every night, not eating, not sleeping, or shitting like you're made of stone.”
Marwen closed his distance on him. His chin was near touching Edward's with a stare of menacing intent. “I don't trust anyone. I'd like to carry on that way. I believe you are putting these people's lives in danger.”
“I'm giving them food and coin.”
“By having them tread across war-torn land. Most of them can't wield a sword. Some of them are children.”
“it was a risk they were willing to take. A risk I was willing to take. The south is no longer safe for the lower folk like me and you.”
“The lords play their games and we suffer for it the most. Well not me damn it. I'll find a place where I can work a dock and farm my crops without worrying about them burning.”
Making their way further north the air grew colder. The breeze they felt was from a great lake tethered to a river that stretched far leading to the western side of the Sea. The river came to a tip running up the north. The Second Spear. Marwen knew. The Third and First Spear were the largest known rivers in the six folds. Knowing that they could not cross the river they edged around to find a smaller, more narrow bank that can serve better for crossing.
On their search they happened by a village called Woodbridge. It had two lumber mills that faced the river. A slew of thatch roofed houses that had cobblestone walls dotted the gravel road like trees on a forest road. Wagon and carts frequented the streets almost as present as the rock beneath them. It was half a town at best. No where near as big as Windtown. No guards posted their for curfew leaving the village open for attack. Perhaps that was the intention of the River lords. So that they can take it back in no time and save the lives of their men. For the squire it was unclear.
What was clear however, was the bridge that stood near the two mills. “there” Marwen pointed to it and just as they did at Fairharvest some stayed whilst the rest followed him. This time was a larger portion of them than before. Almost fifty. At best. Must've been more work up in Riverwatch than he thought. Despite his suspicions, the man has done as said. Gathering farmers, masons, tanners, smiths, cooks, bakers, bartenders, tillers and wenches to lands much safer from war and southron cruelty. Even some orphans accompanied them. Most of the orphans soon took company with mothers that had newborn babes.
At first there must've been five-hundred. Now only half and by the next day it dwindled further. Which was a good thing. Less mouths for that weasel to feed whilst he takes to the mountains. Thought Marwen, bitterly. And only bitter thoughts continued to remain as Marwen stays with the refugees. Single file they had to move as wagons were carried on the backs of cows and horses. From behind he heard the mills groaning as they lifted pounds of water from the roaring Spear.
A couple luffs hung high above the river bank as they were crossing the wood and stone bridge. The second one higher than the first showing glistening stones that jutted out of the bottom side of the slopes. once again the band were under the shadow of a forest. This one consisted of birches and black briars. The forest was much thicker just as he remembered from journeying south of Windreach a year ago. Trees were huddled arms length from one another allowing a fistfull of sunlight to give warmth to the risen soil. Thickets and blackberry bushes littered the forest. Grass was turning from green to brown. Some of the briars looked gnarled and ancient than the more taller trees. Frost conquered the soil. The next day a cold, bitter rain took to the skies paling any flesh that walked beneath the clouds. In five hour's time Marwen and the band were soaking wet. The trees did but naught to protect them from the rain.
They emerged from the forest as the river curved to the west. A rill stood in front of them just a couple feet ahead. The immense roaring of the river could be heard smashing against small stones, fallen lumber and snags that crossed it's watery path. Edward walked up the path and ended up slipping off the slick, muddied edge. Marwen as the wiser moved to the right as he jogged his way away from the group.
“There's a cave” Edward blurted out. “A bloody cave.” and in a cave they rested for the night. Marwen took to the woods the next day to hunt for food. A spotted doe pranced from his right then darted away from him. Feeling his pockets and packs he found no bow nor arrows. Instead, he ran after the deer hoping to catch despite it having quite a head start on him. Tracks were found along the path. Following them presented him with dingleberries, clumps of chewed sticks, twigs and leaves laying hewn across the river road. He took a left off-road since the tracks led him that far. A sigh passed from Marwen's lips. His hand rubbed his face thrice as fatigue struck him amongst the mist. The fatigue only served to irritate him. He's never remembered being this miserable and for what has to have been a month or two at least.
His mind so harped in grief and darkness that memory could no longer serve him. From being a servant of a man he looked up to, he finds himself trudging through woods and a warring land in search of food and provisions for people he barely knew or could trust. Even trust could not serve him and why should it. He couldn't save a man that he trusted the most and a man that trusted him the most.
Blue eyes glowed from a dark right corner between two trees. The eyes closed and vanished. A streak of blue aura bounding away. Marwen cocked his head to the right poising to glance over his shoulder. Soon it became an itch and he turned. Talons came landing and raking at his eyes. A loud caw was heard mingled with his own screams. The only thing he had to fend the crow off was his elbow yet that served him as much as his memory.
Falling, his vision turned black and when it was opened he heard himself growl. Claws raked through leather and steel plate armor. Swords came at him but were no match for such ferocity. One man attacked him coming at his shoulder and with savage strength the beast brought both his claws to match his shiny man stick, tearing both of his arms off, taking his shoulder's and ripping the flesh from his neck. A bristled growl parted from his teeth and Marwen sprouted himself awake like a weed.
Looking to a tree above hung the crow perched atop a branch. “he's coming”. Said the crow. Ferns and bushes rustled violently as nearly monstrous padding was heard from what must be a short distance. Then came a growl and heavy-beast like breathing. He glanced behind him and was tackled so hard that it sent him flying to a tree and hitting his head. Whatever hit him that hard must've been massive and strong too. Shock struck his bones. The pain came soon after. His eyes were closed and opened hearing screaming from frightened women, fighting men and crying babes. The sounds around him grew vague by the second. His vision was too blurry to tell what was happening. A few mutters passed from his lips only to have him lay unconscious yet again.
Once he awakened, he found himself in a forest that struck him with a homely sense. The forest much darker and the trees much taller where it was near threatening to touch the skies. A castle stood outside of it. For a glance he thought it was Riverpoint like Edward said yet Riverpoint sat around the basin of a river. This castle stood upon a ridge of a high grass hill. The castle was several miles off from the forest and surrounded by lower hills, ridges and a great grassland.
Patches of snow lie sparsely upon the grass and ridges. A wind that could only be from the north blew his way sending a shutter that gave Marwen a queer sense of warmth. I'm home. A shivering smile carved on his face driving him to climb the hill. He slipped a couple times. Gained his footing and climbed some more. Growing weaker as he climbed further. I need my home. Hoarse coughs parted from his lips as he reached the top of the hill. They grew worse and worse. His skull became a sphere of veins and agony. His fists pounded at the soil in refusal of defeat.
He crawled his way forward. It took another hour or two for at least some of his strength to return. It was sapped out of him after twenty paces. He spent the rest of the night on weakened knees or so he thought. Horses galloped in front of him. Marwen looked up and saw men in shoulder pauldron and brigandine armor. Their banner a black bear across a golden field.
“Is this the one.” A man as big as a bear himself with long, snow-white hair and a balding scalp. His gaze stern as stone and a face solemn and honest. A face Marwen longed to see.
Another horse came up to Marwen. A great pale mare surprisingly larger than the other horses. A little girl who had a honey-blond braids and bright gold eyes sat atop the horse and nodded her head.
“I wanted to make sure since last time you said it was Lord Edward.”
“I was sure, old man. “the little girl snapped back at him. “He was the one to give us the true bearer”
“Lor...lord edward...he...he's…
“...dead I know, boy. Sorry for your loss.” the man said sternly. “He was a good man. An honorable man, a fighting man and that's what we need...men”
“Here's a man. I've seen him fight. What more do you want from me.”
“I need more men. That's what we needed the Greywinds for. Now Edward's boy plays at war with eighty thousand men. Men we could use. If what you saw was true than the north and the south face an even greater threat than the southron kings.”
“You will get your men.” The blond haired girl promised, irritably. “but believe me when I tell you that we have something much more valuable in our hands than just another sword.”
“it's on your head if you're wrong girl. And yours.” the old man pointed at Marwen. He then rode off. His men in tow and a handful of them remained with the little girl which Marwen found strange. A tremor came to his hand. The same trust he had for the Edward on the road he had for the little girl on horseback. She offered her hand and Marwen rejected her.
“don't make me have to force you. You're too valuable for me to let go.” threatened the girl. A glib smile was on her face. Her eyes peered deeply at Marwen as though she waited for him to reject once more.
“The band of peasants you were traveling with are safe and are being escorted here as we speak. They'll be here in days. The man leading them... what was his name?”
“Ed...edward.” Marwen barely could utter his name. “w….why…?”
“He was the right hand man of a bandit called Silverteeth. For five years they been taking to raiding farms and villages. That man had quite the bounty on him, I assure you.”
“Another reason I killed him is because you were not destined to plough fields or toil in a moldy ship. Nor raid and pillage innocents. Your path must remain clear. Your lord sent you here for a reason.”
“The old man…your lord, doesn't seem to welcome you mi'lady.”
“I'm well beyond his castle, his rules, and his men. I am guided by forces older and more powerful than him...and so are you. Come with me, ysingyr.”
