During the day, Benj would ride and stop to set up camp when the sun set into his eyes. There, he would gather dead leaves, fallen wood, and logs for a fire. He would fall asleep next to the fire and dream of baking bread and flying through clouds of flour.
He woke up more saddle sore than he had ever been. He was also sore from where he slept on tree roots. Not in any particular hurry, he built a fire back up from the coals and moved his joints around.
He took a roll from the travel pack and placed it near the fire for warmth. He then cooked two eggs in his skillet, which was smaller than the one he had tossed off the mountain all that time ago. He had learned his lesson traveling with a heavy pack.
On the seventh day, before he had the opportunity to pack up camp, he heard whistling coming from down the road. He looked past some trees to find a man walking quite cheerfully, heading in the same direction Benj was. The man was about as tall as Benj but perhaps ten years his senior. The way the man dressed made him look wealthy, or at least not impoverished. He wore a white shirt with buttons under a light brown jacket that went down his waistline. His pants had regal embroidery stitched over the front and a sword waving to the rhythm of his gait.
"Ho, there, friend!" The man called towards Benj as he walked close enough to see the fire and campsite.
"Ho," Benj replied.
"May I beseech upon your goodwill and ask to share that charming-looking fire of yours?" the man asked through a red beard contrasting with his short blonde hair.
"Sure, come warm yourself," Benj replied, thinking how it was a weird way to ask.
The stranger drew near and held out his hand. "The name Gallows Reese."
"Benj," he said, shaking the man's hand. "Interesting name. Were you born with it?"
"Terrible, isn't it? Hah!" Gallows laughed. "Haha! I wasn't born with it as much as I nearly died with it. You see, if a man had theoretically escaped the Gallows as many times as I have. Eventually, they would call him Gallows, too. For me, it's a constant reminder of how incredibly lucky I've been."
Black ashes, Benj thought, this guy is a criminal.
"So, what brings you east of Royal City?" Gallows asked, sizing Benj up.
"I'm Looking for work. You?" Benj asked and began packing his bags. He tried not to look like he was hurrying to leave the conversation; however, the participants were questionable.
"I was heading to my Grandmum's when I got robbed on the road two days back towards Thannon." Gallows Reese warned, "You better travel safe, or the same thieves will get you too."
"Thanks," Benj said, taking note of the man's sword.
"You're not traveling alone now, are you?" Gallows asked, looking around the campsite.
"Yes, but I can handle my own." Benj said, then considered him, "If you got robbed, how do you still have a sword?"
"Everyone has a sword," Gallows said, putting his hand on the black jeweled hilt. "They didn't have room for this old rusty blade."
Something was off about this stranger, and the story wasn't adding up. That sword was probably worth more than Sandstorm. Benj slowly picked up his skillet as if to pack it and held it idly in his hand. He heard metal on metal as a sword was slid from the sheath.
"T'was nice of you to pack your bags for me." Gallows Reese said, holding the point of the sword to Benj's throat. "Now put that pan into the bag nice and easy."
His mind raced. The stranger only wanted to know if he was alone to rob him. He flipped open his pack, slowly putting the skillet inside when his hand brushed against a small wooden box. An idea struck him. He unlatched the box with the tip of his finger, opened it, and dumped two palm-sized stones into the bottom before removing his hand. "Here." He said, closing the flap and handing the bag carefully to the thief
"Ah, I see you have saddled your horse for me too!" the man said, taking the bag and pulling the strap over his sword hand and head. He said, "Nice and easy," or "Easy now," arbitrarily, the same way someone might say, "There you go," or "I dare say."
Benj stood defeated.
"Don't worry, I'll give him a good home."
"Her," Benj corrected. "It's a her."
"Easy now," he said while he untied the horse and jumped on. "I suppose I'll give her a good home."
"Oh, one more thing," Benj said, watching the touchstones work their magic as smoke began billowing out between the seams of the bag. "Do you smell that?"
"Smell whaaaaaaaah!" Gallows Reese screamed.
The distraction bought Benj time to pull a piece of paper from his pocket and read the single word that might help.
Gallows Reese reached for the smoking bag strapped diagonally across his shoulders. He held his sword, pointing it in Benj's direction.
It was time.
Benj ran towards the thief and yelled, "Halu!"
The horse reared up, kicking Gallows Reese into the air, sword clamoring to the ground. Benj grabbed the sword and began to yell for him to stop.
The thief, getting to his knees, tossed the bag off his shoulders and charged.
"Wait, stop!" Benj yelled, holding the sword. He didn't want to use the blade; he had never used one. He just wanted to agree, disagree, and have them go their separate ways. The sword in his hand felt foreign and heavy; its cold steel was a stark reminder of the seriousness of the situation. His fingers trembled around the hilt, and he swallowed hard, trying to find his voice amidst the chaos. "Let's talk this through," he pleaded, hoping to defuse the tension before it escalated further.
Gallows Reese lunged toward Benj, face contorted, making a low growl.
Benj swung downward like he had done every morning since he became a baker. "Depends on how you want to die," he remembered Sephus saying. The sword buried its steal into the man's forehead. Gallows Reese's body went limp while blood poured from his head a deep burgundy. Arms and legs twitched uselessly on the ground.
Benj threw up.
He went to his pack to put the fire out and empty the contents. After some effort and a few singed hairs, he got one of the touchstones to roll free. Hot embers glowed red on all his earthly possessions. All his clothes, recipes, and gold mixing spoon were in a smoldering heap.
After an hour, he had salvaged his coins, a half-melted bar of soap, a skillet, and both touchstones. The stones had saved his life. He made room in the saddle bags and packed them away. Next, he went to the dead body and checked his pockets.
He found a money pouch with three half talents and tucked it away. He took the belt and scabbard from around the dead man's waist and put it on. It had two dragons on the belt facing in opposite directions. He picked up the sword and went to wipe the blood off on the man's jacket but paused. It was a nice jacket. All his clothes had burned up, and he could use the clothes. He wiped the sword on one of his half-burned shirts and sheathed it.
The blade was double-edged with textured steel where it had been folded. The handguard was a slightly curved symmetric cross beam jutting out from a braided leather hilt. Five spikes curled around a massive black jet in the middle of the hilt. It was both beautiful and sinister. Whoever this man was, he didn't spare expenses, or at least whoever he stole it from didn't.
He bent to remove the jacket. Fortunately, the body had fallen, and blood gushing from the head wound flowed downhill and not on his clothes. Once removed, he paused, looked at the shirt, and debated taking that too.
Thirty minutes later, Gallows Reese was lying face down in nothing but his undershorts. A tattoo of a snake and a three-point crown over two stars was all that took the attention from the corpse's shame.
He packed the reallocated clothes into the saddlebag with the oats. The clothes didn't smell dirty, and he hoped they wouldn't ruin the oats' flavor for the horse. It was time to move on, but there was something he needed to do first. He pulled out an apple, took a bite, and gave the rest to Sandstorm. He looked around the campsite and the dead body one last time and shuddered. It was time to leave.
The longer the day went on, the more people he saw walking on the road, and Benj ignored every one of them. When Royal City finally came into view, the sight was magnificent. The city was in the middle of a giant river that forked around walls, acting as fortifications from the North, East, and South. In the West stood an arched stone wall curving outward, protecting the city between the two river bends. Two bridges stood - one to the northeast and one to the southeast - wide enough to fit a merchants' convoy and made the only two entry points into the city. Although large and regal, the palace was overshadowed by several large cathedrals and a domed building to each side that stepped down into shorter and shorter rooftops. The city's canopy sloped up to other massive structures and landmarks. Steeples, spikes, golden-winged statues, and bulbous roofs rose to a point. Each rooftop bore a unique identity with grey stone, black marble, or gold-plated granite.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Benj stared at the distant city in awe. He felt overwhelmed and realized he wasn't as ready to live there as he thought earlier. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"You ready, girl?" He asked Sandstorm.
She glared forward. She seemed like she was still upset about the commotion earlier.
"I know," he told her, slapping the reins and pressing forward. "Me too."
----------------------------------------
The closer he got to Royal City, the larger it got. When he got to the bridge, people queued in front, and he took a place in the back of the line. As the line progressed, each person stopped in front of a stout, red-faced guard.
"Afternoon, ma'am," a red-haired guard greeted an elderly woman in front of him. "State your business in Royal City."
The woman wore a scarf over her head and carried a basket with the contents covered.
"I'm here to visit my son. He just g-"
"Two Marks," The guard cut her off.
She handed him the two copper pieces, and he waved her through.
"State your business." The guard said to Benj.
"I'm here to find work. I'm a"
"Four Marks." The guard cut him off.
"But you only charged the lady in front of my two," Benj said indignantly.
The guard gave an exasperated look. "She didn't have a horse, so she only had to pay two." The guard paused to let it sink in. "You have a horse, so you pay four; I'm being generous because technically, it's a copper mark for each functional leg stepped on my bridge, and I see six."
Benj tossed the guard a half-talent coin. The half talent was a smaller silver coin with a hole in the center. "Can you make change?"
"As sure as I can spit," the guard assured him, then spat to remove any doubt. The guard flipped the coin in the air to listen to the sound it made. Benj had no idea whether it was possible to tell if a coin was real by the sound it made, but it was impressive nonetheless.
"'Here you are." The guard handed him eighteen marks. "Now, move along."
"You owe me three more," he said. "You only gave me eighteen."
The guard let out a sigh. "That's two for you, two for the horse, and three for the money-changing fee." He said, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Now, move along."
Benj paused as if he would say something further but thought better of it and moved forward.
The city grew before him as he drew closer and made his way through the musky streets. People clambered in all different directions, around, behind, and past him. It was odd to be in the midst of such activity, but he didn't let it distract him from his goal. He needed to find a bakery to see if he could get some work.
He arrived at a crossroads where a signpost indicated four directions. To the back was the East Gate, to the left was Castle Road, straight ahead was Brighton Road, and to the right were the Slums. He chose the left path, immersing himself in the city's vibrant sights and sounds.
"Sir, sir, sir."
Benj looked down to see a dirty-looking street urchin.
"Excuse my presumptions, sir, but you look lost."
Benj felt embarrassed to have been called out so blatantly for the newcomer he was while the boy continued.
"This is no problem, sir," the boy assured him, seeing the look on his face. I am a man of many qualities; one of those is helping foreigners navigate our most complicated city."
The boy looked twelve years old and wore a large white smile in contrast to the light brown face darkened with streaks of dirt.
"No, thank you, ah-" Benj started.
"Samir, at your service, but my friends call me Sam. You, my friend, can call me Sam." He said without taking a breath.
"The last time a stranger called me friend, I got robbed. So, thank you, Samir, but no, thank you. If I ever need your services, I'm sure I will call on you." He said, gently nudging Sandstorm forward. "Good day."
"Good day, sir," Samir said. "However, are you sure you want to go that way?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he said and then stopped the horse. "Why?"
"That road leads to a very dangerous place. You're either very brave, or you are in need of my services more than I thought."
"It's Castle Road; it leads to the castle," Benj stated.
"Oh, haha!" Samir faked a laugh. "Very funny, sir. You had me going for a moment."
"If Castle Road doesn't lead to the castle, where does it lead?" he asked, confused.
"This leads to thieves and murders," Samir said seriously. "Half of the people are Crownsmith; the other half are dead."
"What's a Crownsmith?" Benj asked, irritated.
"Pardon my unwarranted advice, sir, but please, for the sake of our lives and your mother's prayers, do not say that so loudly next time. I am pleased to show you the castle, sir. It is right this way." Samir walked in front of Benj and gestured with his hand and that overly happy smile again.
At that moment, unbidden memories surfaced in Benj's mind. He remembered living in the streets as a young orphan and relying on strangers for food. He remembered the loneliness, the insects, and the cold nights. If Sephus had never saved him, he would have been in Samir's position. He saw himself in Samir's dirt-streaked face and decided to help.
"Samir, instead of the castle, do you know of any bakeries?" Benj asked.
Samir smiled. He was knowledgeable in many things, but his knowledge of bakeries was about to pay off. He led the way, talking about which bakery made the best cakes, which one was closest, and which owners were nice or not nice.
Benj's thoughts drowned him out as he was led through road after road, each offering a strange new sight, smell, or piece of culture. Street merchants sold colorful rugs with intricate designs under sheets roped up between buildings. A small troupe of entertainers juggled bottles of spirits. At the same time, one acted drunk, casually snatching them out of the air for a sip and then placing them back into the juggled loop without dropping one. A woman sat behind a table made of wooden boxes, offering to tell Benj his future, "I see you have a gift hidden away," she promised. "I will tell you how to find it for a price."
"No thanks," he smiled and moved forward.
Samir took him to a street baker who was pulling large wheels of flatbread out of a movable oven with a long, thin paddle.
"Get your weevils! Hot toasty weevils!" The man shouted.
Samir smiled and gestured towards the man. It wasn't quite what Benj had in mind; in fact, it wasn't anything like what he had in mind. He hopped down from his horse anyway and approached the street merchant.
"Ah, there's a man who enjoys the finer things in life; how many weevils can I get for you?" The man asked, setting his sizeable wooden paddle aside.
"I am actually here to see about the possibility of employment," Benj said, wishing it didn't feel so awkward to say it.
The merchant looked at Benj and then Samir.
"No, but thank you. This is pretty much a one-man operation."
"How much for one?"
"Five Marks for one weevil, seven Marks for two."
"I'll take two," Benj ordered, giving the man seven copper Marks.
He had wished he only bought one weevil as he followed Samir and pulled Sandstorm behind him. He was full after eating half. He gave his other half to Samir, who smiled and accepted it graciously before tucking it into his pocket. They began approaching another street baker, and Benj came to a halt.
"I'm more looking for a bigger establishment." He told the boy.
"Yes, sir!" He said enthusiastically. "But if I may speak freely, sir, they won't hire you."
"What?" He asked, shocked at the statement. "Why wouldn't they hire me?"
"There are very nice places on the other side of town," He said carefully, "and well... Begging your pardon, sir, but we don't look like we belong on that side of town." He lowered his head and shrugged.
Benj was confused. Of course, he belonged in the better parts of town; it's not like he was dressed like… He looked at what he was wearing. He was tattered, dirty, and travel-worn. He looked like he could have been a street urchin himself if he didn't have a sword and a horse—the look of confusion left his eyes.
"You're right, Samir; we need to get cleaned up."
"You're right," he said, hesitating, "and you will definitely need to clean up."
Benj pulled out a single mark from his bag and held it up. "If you're going to be my guide," he breathed on the coin and polished it on his sleeve, "you're going to need to get cleaned up for tomorrow too."
Samir's eyes got big. "Oh, I see! I will be as clean as the king's stable boy, and for four Marks, I'll smell just as good."
Benj lifted an eyebrow.
"I met him once," Samir said, "He smelled very nice."
"That's kind of strange, but I believe you. Do you have any nice clothes?" Benj gestured up and down.
"Yes, sir!" He beamed. "I only wear this shirt because it matches my pants; these are my best pants."
His pants were raggedy and held up with a rope. Benj groaned inwardly.
"Alright," He said, "Do you have any plans tomorrow?"
"No sir," Samir said with a big smile. "My services are yours for as long as you need."
"Alright," Benj said, digging out coins from his pocket. He leaned down and handed four Marks to Samir. "If you take me to a nice inn, come back, and we can get started first thing in the morning. Do you know of anywhere quiet?"
"I know of this place; it is very close," the boy said. The owner is very nice."
Samir took Benj through the poor area of town and then finally reached The Stonegarden Tavern and Inn.
"Sure, this looks quiet," Benj said, trying to stay optimistic about the run-down place. Can I trust you to watch my horse until I come back out?"
"Yes, sir!" Samir said, excited, either to be useful or to rob him.
Benj would have to leave Sandstorm outside anyway, so there was nothing he could do. He walked through the front door just in time to see the barmaid pick up a half-drunken ale off the bar and pour it into the barrel through a latch on the top.
"How can I help you?" She said as she wiped her hands on a dirty towel hanging from her apron.
"Hello," he said obligatorily. "I would like to see about a room, please."
"Will you be…" She pointedly looked at his sword, "causing any problems tonight?"
"No, ma'am," he said, patting his sword. "Just got here, and I'm not into any…" He trailed off. "No, ma'am."
"Four Marks a night," She said.
"That sounds fine," Benj agreed to the price and set the coins on the bar. "I also have a horse that needs stabling."
The lady slid the coins on the bar toward her, "That's an extra mark. Bring the horse around back and stable it yourself. Your room will be upstairs, and the second room will be to the left. There are no locks, so don't leave anything in there you don't want stolen. The bog is out back. If you use the chamber pot, dump it out yourself. If you want a bath-"
"What is a bog?" he asked, cutting her off and placing the mark on the counter. "Yes, I will need a bath."
"It's where you piss. Are you new?" She asked and continued, "If you want a bath, it'll be first thing in the morning. If you want a hot bath, get there early. If you want the first bath, get there first. Breakfast is whenever I make it, so don't run down here barking orders before I've had my morning tea. Got it?"
"Got it." Benj said, "I have clothing I would like washed."
"It'll be ready first thing in the morning," she said, holding out her hand. "One mark per article of clothing, I don't care how small. Too small, and it's two marks if you get my meaning?"
He was down to his last two marks, but he had three articles of clothing that needed to be washed. "Is there a money-changing fee?"
"What?" she said, making it more of a statement. "Good money is good money; I should be paying you to pay me, not the other way around, I say."
Benj almost sighed in relief as he slid a half talent towards her and got the appropriate change back. He picked up his money before she could take any more of it. "I'll take the horse around back now."
He walked outside to find Samir talking to Sandstorm. "It's not so bad out here, I think you'll like it."
Benj took the reins. "Samir, thanks for the help today. See you in the morning?"
"Yes, sir, I will be here bright and early."
When he finally collapsed onto his bed, he intended to nap briefly before exploring more of the city. Instead, he ended up sleeping through the rest of the day. When he awoke that evening, he meant to think and plan, but he drifted back to sleep once again.