17 - Corwin's Second Thoughts

Pelensgrad’s Gate, Two Days After Festival

"Jawin!"

"Corwin!"

The cousins embraced while Sir Grey and thirty men on horseback waited at the gates of Pelensgrad. One of the riders was wrapped in a black cloak. They had ridden into the night after their scout found evidence that the Silent Legion was headed this way. It was time for breakfast, but Sir Grey did not let them stop.

The everyday hustle of traffic going into town had parted ways for the grand procession that came from the capitol. While nobles weren't foreign here because they were so close to the big city, it was rare when one wasn't stuffed away in some carriage, itching to get through the night so they could get out of this no-account town and on to the gates of Traldalor.

It was rarer still to see a hunting party of such size and skill. Sir Grey and his rangers were the most feared band in the entire kingdom. It was rumored they had tracked the Lich Lord to the underworld itself and not only brought back the fell creature's head on a pike, but also brought down its steed that had burned an army to cinders with its fire breath.

The rumors were already being murmured by those who watched, and Sir Grey hadn't even said anything yet. That task had been delegated to Corwin. The newly promoted squire was more than happy to do so, especially since his cousin was on duty.

"It seems like life's been treating you well," Jawin said, and slapped his relative on the shoulder. "Imagine that—Squire to Sir Grey. Mum's never going to believe this. Oh...um...sorry about your mum."

Corwin glanced back at Sir Grey. The lord was stoic, but Corwin could sense the urgency. He said, "Right, cousin. Sir Grey here is looking for the Silent Legion. You know, the warriors of legend."

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"We got the wind message. We know."

"So, he wants to know if anyone fitting their description has passed through here."

Jawin told them about the strange folks with spectacles who had come by. The guard who had been with him on duty yesterday wasn’t supposed to start yet for the day. Those folks had seemed odd but weren’t heroes. He ended his ramble. "Nope, no heroes to come by. Just a couple folks wearing glasses. A whole party of them."

"They are here," Sir Grey said.

"Just you hold on a minute!" Jawin said. "You see, Bolt is the best crossbowman in the land. You think he can really see a bird in a tree hundreds of yards away with—"

Sir Grey stabbed Jawin in the throat. He turned to his men. "Spread out—search the town. Burn the place down if you must. No one comes in or out."

The riders spurred into action. They flooded the town in grim determination. The only ones to stay behind with Sir Grey were the mystery rider in black and Corwin himself, who sensed that it was awkward to be in the presence of the pair.

"Sire," Corwin said, and glanced at his cousin's bleeding form.

"Yes, Corwin," Sir Grey said.

The squire chose his words carefully. "Did you have to, um, kill Jawin?"

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I kill him? He clearly let the heroes escape our grasp. Wait, you're not one of those pacifists, are you?"

"Oh, no, sire. I like a good chop of the sword as much as the next man, but it seems like a waste of resources. Now you have to train a whole new city guardsman to take his place."

"Oh, dearest Corwin, your simpleton view of the world is quite endearing. While I know you want what is best for your noblemen, which is only natural for the peasants who serve us, you must know that there are plenty of you. I give a man a pike and some armor, and now he's a watchman. It's best to leave matters of the state to me. Now, run along and search the town." Sir Grey dismissively waved his hands.

"Yes, sire," Corwin said, and mounted his horse. Maybe he had celebrated his promotion a little too soon. At least as a peasant, sitting below the latrines of castle Traldalor, he could see the shit coming.

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