A rain timely and unwanted had been increasing with layers and humidity since Clyde and Rubus had left the river’s edge and mounted prepared horses for a climb alongside tall woodlands on the road to the township of Feldbach. The men had packed with nothing beyond what Rubus could carry under his draping coat, and whatever Clyde might hold beneath his robe. They were both hooded and those they passed on the route up did not regard them as warranting invitation, though both men recognised the second glances they received as something speaking to their expectancy.

By late morning they began to ride through the mist, following trust in the local horses which after a time, rewarded them with a distant grey scape of hewn outline. Feldbach. The whole town sat within a valley of great, old pines, some very large indeed. The rain tore at their view of the distant details and beside a group of rocks Rubus dismounted and shook his jacket. He pulled back his hood and took in what he could of the panorama, blonde hair to his shoulders and already half wet. He was early of ageing but increasingly furrowed with wrinkles formed from a fondness to smile before action. He sniffed the air and then went easily about removing a rifle from his jacket and drawing the bolt back before storing it away again, drawing a pistol then, and setting the hammer to prepared.

Clyde remained on his horse, his eyes within his dark hood and his focus between the township and the high valley to its left. The trees there were talking, he sensed, and although he could not make clear the details, he was certain that they were exclaiming. Something was vandalising that particular corner of the forest, he knew, and felt the pressure of the late spring air about them. His horse shook its heavy head and Clyde pointed to the direction that the panicked trees sat amongst.

‘That way,’ he said, and Rubus walked a few paces to his side, staring to make out what he could of the distant pines. The rain began to gather a little harder now with a breeze coming in from the far mountainous coast.

‘We could have this done before the afternoon,’ continued Clyde, and Rubus tilted his head in consideration before pulling his hood back over and turning to his horse.

‘We’re expected in Feldbach,’ he said and made quick mounting.

‘It would hardly fall off course to have it done first.’

‘Yes, but the request was to be as civil as we can about this,’ answered Rubus and clicked his horse to continue, away from the woodland and toward the road to town. Clyde took up his reigns and followed a pace or two behind.

‘And civility is why you have your weapons primed?’ he asked. Rubus turned in his saddle and smiled.

Throughout the next while they rode in line and without words. Rubus kept his focus ahead as grey and growing details of Feldbach came into view through the rain which pressed from the north-east. Clyde mumbled in patterns of low voice, but not to himself. Upon the base of his horse’s neck, between the seen and unseen realms, was a small and forlorn demon which had long been imprisoned to Clyde; he held the creature for use and admonishment. Over time, it had grown features and could no longer count amongst the unseen alone. It had become more than a ghost, but still less than a thing. Rubus had never spied the critter but understood enough of when it was talking to his companion to leave them be.

Before them grew the towers around the perimeter of Feldbach. They reached little higher than toadstools beside the mountains, but were impressive by local standard, and beneath those towers was a stone frontage with a tall and open gate at the very centre fascia, and distant fields cut into the gentle bowl along either side of the approaching men. From within a half dash of distance from the gate, the men saw the comings and goings of a busy place. Trade was ongoing under the rain and from the first glances through the gate hole in the stone, Clyde and Rubus could see shopfronts wrought in the bright colours of peacetime. The rain and grey dampened the contrasts, but there was a clear affluence to the soul of this place. Rubus hoped for the sake of peace that it held no vendettas and as they were about to be gathered into the throng of activities outside the gate, a man of good dress and youngish age made pace towards them and signalled with a high hand. Rubus took his right hand inside his jacket until it gripped at his pistol and Clyde ceased to mumble and looked straight into the man approaching.

‘Good noon!’ the man said in high voice. Rubus relaxed at his grip and Clyde at the impression from his eyes. People increasingly noticed their arrival and a crowd began to gather as the man hurried them through with encouraging words that although they were a day early, preparations had been made and council would be called for the afternoon.

They went under the gate and followed him to the cover of the closest stable. They had not reached it before the rain became deeper and settled over the mountains as if brooding. Rubus went for the cover of the stable while Clyde drew his reins in and sat in a wet brooding of his own. People began to stop then, and those who hadn’t were still looking at him, seeing nothing but a wet cloak, long and dripping, and a hood from which only a beard appeared to have escaped. Two large dogs approached from the stable and went about sniffing what they could before Clyde dismounted and held his hands out. The dogs rested their heads on them, and Clyde found himself with ever more eyes upon him.

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‘Clyde!’ called Rubus with a wave for him to come undercover. The dogs returned to attention and Clyde’s horse took the signal to follow, followed by the dogs, with Clyde making steps behind the company.

‘Making good first impressions, then,’ Rubus remarked as he took Clyde’s horse and looked back over the crowd. The dogs held close to Clyde, who lifted his hood and shook at his loose, long hair of black and silver. His face was wet and worn, and in the semi-dark of the stables, his features appeared to be made of half shadows.

A stable boy made fast to take the reins from Rubus and a few paces over the man sent to collect them was doing his best to calm the fears of the stable owner who was charged with keeping the stranger’s horses. This done under haste to the best of his ability, the man returned to Rubus and Clyde and brought his hands together with a clap.

‘Now then!’ he said and looked to Rubus, whom he considered the easier of the pair to approach. ‘I am Dunstan. I serve the Mayor and have been placed at your word.’

‘It is good to see you, Dunstan,’ replied Rubus. ‘I am Rubus Rhume-’

‘Of the family Rhume!?’, interrupted Dunstan. Rubus looked at him fast with his hands remaining still.

‘Yes, as it happens,’ he said after a pause. ‘Do we have a problem already?’

Dunstan shook his head decisively.

‘No, we do not, Master Rhume. But please excuse the shock.’

‘Entirely understandable, dear boy. Now, as I say, I am Rubus Rhume and this is Brother Clyde Barrbough. You requested him.’

Dunstan took a large breath then and scanned the bustle of the stable yard and the gathering of the crowd while he prepared himself.

‘Indeed,’ he said and exhaled. ‘First we must get you both dry. We have rooms for you at the Edelweiss. I will take you straight there and you can eat before you all gather this afternoon.’

Rubus nodded, but Clyde ruffled his cassock.

‘Take me to the Council Priest,’ he said, and having given it a moments thought, Dunstan opened his hands.

‘I am afraid I do not have his exact whereabouts. If you would-’

Clyde held up a hand.

‘He is at his dwelling. Point the direction and I will take myself there.’

Rubus looked between the pair of them and made some calculations. On the one hand, they had been formally requested and as such were to consider the local customs and dignities, yet on the other were the mechanisms of how his companion operated and the importance of that.

Dunstan seemed a little unsure of the course ahead.

‘Point,’ Rubus said and leaned in a little on Dunstan. ‘Point to where he needs and I will let you take me to the hotel.’

Dunstan nodded.

‘Very well, Masters.’