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Two men had entered the woods. Their sleds were now fastened to their backs. Off the curvy nosing dangled a lantern, lit even during the daylight hours. Another smaller one was fastened to each of their belts. They’d stripped the winter clothing in favor of thin leather wraps atop cotton shirts. These woods did not play by the rules of the seasons and did not recognize the laws that the rest of the world abided by. It was muggy and warm here, steam rising in places from somewhere beneath the roots.
You could not guess it was day here. The trees were so thick and tall that they swallowed up any light that threatened to reach the forest floor. There was lots of life scurrying around them, uncaring of the two men’s presence.
They walked with purpose. Experienced in this trade, they’d spent their lives building skills, connections, and wealth from the expeditions that now brought them here. Neither one was particularly fond of the Deep Wood, but the resources they pulled from these journeys would be invaluable in the most powerful circles. Money made them friends, but their line of work made them powerful friends.
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Erlan and Marat had been born to a well-to-do family. Erlan was a few years younger, Marat older- he’d been a man for longer than not. They’d spent their youth in competitions, worldly studies, and honing their chosen craft. They hunted with their father, and when he grew too old to hunt, their uncle. At first, trapping rabbits as kids, they’d bring home bears by the time the youngest of them was able even to grow a beard. Renowned in their city for their quick wit, generosity with the drink, and the ability to shoot a sparrow in flight at eight hundred feet, their talents attracted other wealthy sportsmen.
They began these expeditions in groups, no more than eight to ten men, the endgame being more about boasting at parties than anything else. They almost always returned successful and almost always with everyone they’d left with.
In ten years, they watched their father drink their family name to ruin after their mother passed of a deadly cough. Their friends grew up and had left over marriages, children, war, trade, and promises of positions of power. Erlan and Marat continued. They’d been left with a very particular set of skills and very little knowledge of profiting from them aside from selling hides at the bazaar.
That is until they found there was a market for men like them.
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