Only Dull people are brilliant at breakfast. - Oscar Wilde

First light found Hank in the taproom of the inn. Waiting. Hank hated waiting he also hated mornings. Or more precisely they had it in for him but what else could he do. He had told the annoying little man Gruffly that he wanted to be on the road before dawn but still no one had arrived. So here he sat with Rupert and Elise nursing the last tea of breakfast when a young boy came into the kitchen of the Duck and Goose.

“You said first light didn't you Elise?” The boy’s question broke the silence. Which on reflection was strange, Elise normally didn’t leave five seconds of silence in a day and Hank was sure that there had been more than 15 minutes where she hadn’t said a word.

“Ohh, goody. You’re here.” Elise made n effort to inject her normal exuberance into her voice. She almost succeeded. “Come on Papa, Hank let’s get outside. Dickon needs all the light. Come on out into the courtyard.”

Rupert’s expression showed he was as mystified as Hank felt. “Ahh what’s going on.”

“Papa, don’t tell me you forgot.” Rupert looked completely blank whilst Elise actually pouted and put her hands on her hips. “Remember, we talked about this. You’re paying Dickon to do a drawing of me, you and Hank. Ooo and my tree.” She dashed off upstairs.

Hank was just about to start grumbling when Rupert mumbled. “Don’t remember any such agreement. I remember a passing comment. But that girl, give her an inch and she’ll take a mile.”

Hank hated posing for portraits. His dad had one done at a stand in the market one year. It was boring and took forever. Caricatures usually took less time, but they were still boring. His thoughts were interrupted as Elise came running out with the little Singtree.

“So where do you want us Dickon?”

“Ahh, just near the wall if that’s Ok Mr Joshotaiyo.” His voice was quiet and going through the awkward breaking phase. Which contributed to the two-thirds asleep appearance he had.

“Is there any particular look you want in the picture Elise?” Dickon yawned as he asked so Elise’s name came out very breathy.

“Nice.”

It was the curt kind of response that required an eye roll. Hank wasn’t sure who got there first Rupert or himself. In any case, it didn’t seem to affect Dickon in the slightest. If Elise had been short on commentary this morning she was not short on what she wanted. She took charge, positioned both Hank and her father before standing in front of them with her little tree in her hands. “Now draw. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Dickon scratched away in his pad. There was a lot of vigorous movement, a thumb held up at intervals, a tongue poked out, a squint of an eye here and furrowed brow there. All in all Dickon was quite active. Hank was quite bored. So, it was a relief when the stable boy came and told him that a Mr Gruffly was waiting outside.

Finally. Hank thought. We can get this show on the road. “Well I hope you have enough for your drawing, I need to be off”. Hank started to move off.

“Yes I made sure that I got you in first. Mr Joshotaiyo and Elise I can fill in later.”

“In which case I shall be off.” At which point it all proved to be a bit much for Elise who grabbed Hank in a hug and then promptly burst into tears and ran upstairs conveniently leaving her Singtree with an apologetic Rupert.

“You’ll have to forgive her. She takes people into her heart and never knows how to say goodbye. So, on my daughter’s behalf and for my own sake, safe travels and thank you once again for her liberty.” Rupert himself seemed a bit lost for words at this point.

Hank was never good at dealing with emotions and so he nodded and said “Ahh thanks for the free board.” He started walking towards the door, and then stopped and turned back.

Hank also struggled with goodbyes. “I am glad she is safe, she is quite the life of the party, so it would be a travesty if she was not around any longer. Please say goodbye for me.” Then he walked out the door.

Hank was pulled from his air of melancholy abruptly and just starred at the carts before him. It really was a show. ‘Stuffed to the brim’ was the expression that sprang to Hank’s mind as he studied all five carts lined up in the alley beside the inn. Actually that was definitely understating it. They were completely stuffed with goods, chattels and all manner of useful things. Most of them had ropes to keep their loads all in, they fairly bulged in all sorts of places. However, the middle cart was the most impressive. Like a cupcake with a cherry, a couple of children sat on top of the pile, much higher than Hank thought was safe. But hey, what did he know?

Gruffly sprang down from the first cart. “Tha’ be ‘ere y’ are. Longshanks like ursel’ immer late.”

Hank felt that if he guessed one in three words, he might get close to understanding what Gruffly said but on the other hand he might start a war over the colour of Gruffly’s underwear.

It didn’t seem to bother Gruffly at all. “I ‘ave m cosprat ‘ere t’ make ye ken an’ t’ tell longshanks liken ursel’ m’ sprake.”

Another short person jumped down from the same cart. “Hi, I’m Sabine. Gruffly ‘ere has given me the job of translating our compidg into common for you. You can ignore what my brother says for the most part, he tends to jabber on and get into scuffles if he’s left to his own devices for too long.”

“So, what was he saying?” Hank asked.

“Ay, th’ longshanks be ‘nquisative like all i’ kind an’ after th’ hand.” Gruffly grinned at both Hank and his sister.

Hank looked at Sabine, who rolled her eyes before speaking. “He’s been complaining that you’re late ever since we arrived. And as always blaming it on you being a tall one. He thinks all you stretchie’s, or longshanks, as he calls you, are a little deficient in certain aspects of your character. But he did want to introduce us.”

“Oy, oy oy. I’ll ne ‘ave ‘ur disparagin’ m’ t’ th’ longshanks ‘ere. ‘Sides w’ ‘ave t’ spin ‘em rollies.” Gruffly grumped at his sister.

“Nay, I’ll b’ o’ th’ sprake o’ m’ choice. Twer long since time ursel’ mutie learned uns t’ collect ursel’ think con th’ ‘rection o’ unsel’ biders.” This indecipherable comment of Sabine’s seems to set Gruffly off.

They started to argue back and forth, without Hank understanding a word of it. Sabine, distracted from the translation part of her job, left Hank guessing. Which may or may not have been a good thing, both short people were getting progressively louder, their faces slowly getting redder with each passing comment.

A window banged open. “Would you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

More windows opened and more comments were shouted into the alley which didn’t seem to make any difference to either Gruffly or Sabine. Both of whom squared off lifting fists in what appeared to be the beginnings of Hank assumed Sabine would call ‘a bit of a scuffle’.

Hank decided to intervene. “Sabine, Gruffly. I am sure that you two can sort your problems out without beating each other to a pulp in the middle of an alley but even if you can’t perhaps this could wait until tonight or we are outside Perison at least. We really ought to be on our way, otherwise the roads will be clogged, and we will not get out of here this morning.”

“Ay, thus ‘ttested I afore.” Gruffly calmed himself.

Sabine was not. Some comment in the middle from Gruffly that included the words, ‘sprats’, ‘gentles’ and ‘houselisch’ seems to have wound the lady up tighter than a top.

A third short person jumped down from the first cart and sauntered over to Sabine. After talking gently to her for a few minutes he managed to get her back to the first cart where she clambered back in. Things looked to have largely sorted themselves out but some people always want to have the last word. Sabine shouted over her shoulder “’tis ur nashin’ place as got uns ‘ere a first. Why I concerns mesel’ wi’ ‘ur idiocy I nay ken.”

Anger returned to Gruffly’s face but before he could retaliate, this un-introduced short person dashed over and speaking gently, pushed Gruffly towards the third cart.

Hank didn’t know what to make of this and so he stood watching passively. Finally, the newcomer walked up to Hank and bowing said “Fritz” and then proceeded towards the first cart beckoning Hank to come with him.

Hank climbed into the cart and sat himself next to a much calmer Sabine. “Sorry you had to witness that, my brother is aptly named and tends to get under everyone's skin at some stage. Mine admittedly more frequently than others.”

Hank wasn’t quite sure what an appropriate response would be, but settled with, “o.”

Which seemed good enough for Sabine, who continued“Anyway, as discussed with my brother a few days back. We’re all traveling together up the country. Perison is expensive and we haven’t the coin to remain here, so the families will be camping in a town further north whilst we look for a good spot to mine and establish a town.” She paused. “You seem very young to know much of the northern wilds?”

Hank smiled. It really was strange remembering growing up in the real world and yet remembering a completely fictional youth here.

He answered. “Yes and no. My mother died young, my dad and I never really got along so by the time I reached my majority I was out of home and on the road. As for the northern wilds, when I left home it was about 2 steps ahead of the law and so leaving the country for a time was positive. My dad’s farm is in the north so I guess I wanted to start my town in the north because I liked it. Particularly the cooler weather. Can’t handle these hot summers.”

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“Problems with the marshals have you?” She was definitely asking about his past.

“Had, but it’s all resolved now.” Hank responded.

Rule number ... Hank couldn’t remember, anyway, starting the game believing you could loot the neighbourhood guaranteed to land players in a world of trouble. In real life, David had never been smacked. Hank’s ‘dad’ had used a belt, repeatedly. Which followed spending a day in the stocks whilst people threw rotten food under the uncaring eyes of the marshals. Hank had been forced to pay everyone back plus 50%. That 50% was the killer. Late payment resulted beating enacted by the marshals. Hank’s ‘dad’ refused to stop them. By that stage he hadn’t cared what Hank’s father wanted. It was time to leave town.

Sabine didn’t need to know the whole story but to stall the inevitable questions Hank had a shortened version prepared. “Yep, took a loan which I was finally able to pay back last month.” Rule number ... well whatever the previous one was, plus one. ‘Don’t borrow from the All duchy’s bank.’ It’s more painful than the beatings, he reflected to himself.

Hank decided it was time to change tack. “I imagined there would be more five carts for the number of people Gruffly mentioned.”

Sabine nodded. “Due to our numbers, we were a little spread out around town, so most of the carts will meet us outside the sun gate. We assumed that we could meet there before heading for the river Rhea. Three to four days should see us across the Crown Forest ford.”

“Sounds slow. Wait, the crown forest ford? I don’t normally risk the northern road here about because of the bandits but with numbers this large we may scare them off.” Hank responded.

“You have no idea how people treat us wee folk do you?” It was not said in anger but rather with equal measures of sadness and resignation. “We will be attacked for sure.”

“Our numbers will be close to 70 or 80 people, surely not.” Hank was a little sceptical.

“Over 120 actually. But this is really the reason that Gruffly is so angry and frustrated at the moment. He liked working in the mine and the 10% difference between his pay and the tall overseers was not much of a gap, so nobody worried about it. But the new owner cut everyone’s pay by 40%. I say everyone but really it was only us wee people who had pay cuts. 40% was just too much and Gruffly knew the younger families could not survive on such a low rate.”

“So, did you do also work in the mine?” Hank asked.

“Me? No.” She smiled.

“O.” At this point Hank was stuck. Did he ask about her profession? She look after a family? Deciding to make the question as open as possible. “Since your brother has told me nothing about you perhaps an introduction would be beneficial. Who is Sabine when she is not driving carts?”

“Who am I? Well, I am Gruffly’s younger sister. I am engaged to Fritz and I am what is loosely translated as one of the hammer brethren. Many of our group are also brethren as a matter of fact. My specialty however is a little unique.” She responded earning a snort from the silent Fritz.

Fritz mumbled something in compidge but Sabine either didn’t hear or chose to ignore them so Hank was left to continue the conversation himself. “What’s a hammer brother?”

“Not brother.” Sabine answered quickly. “Brethren is a poor translation for an old word that means something akin to ‘one closer than a brother, someone you go to war for’. Consequently, brother is not the singular for brethren. But leaving that aside I guess your question remains relevant. Hammer brethren are those who study the way of the hammer, in all its forms.”

“The way of the hammer?” Hank asked.

“Yes, for us, the hammer is the way our lives are lived. Most follow the branch of creation. Mining, crafting, refining, smithing and so forth. I conversely desire completeness in my path.”

“Meaning?” Hank was curious it sounded as if it was almost a religion.

“Some things require creation, others destruction and still others something in between. My brother, I am sure, told you of the scuffle at the mine?” She asked.

Hank just nodded.

“He might even have mentioned that we didn’t suffer much.” She glanced at Hank

“Yes, he said that you are a hard lot to punish.” Hank remembered the discussion vaguely.

“Well that's one way of putting it. More precisely when the protest started I was called in to provide security for the miners and their families. So, when the marshals descended I hoped for an opportunity to negotiate before the bloodshed. Negotiations never eventuated, the head marshal didn't like short people, or females for that matter. It’s a little hard to negotiate when someone won’t even listen. I had to put him down, hard.” Her visage darkened for a moment

“And putting people down hard is something you can do?” Hank asked.

“I was in the Southern Wars. Hard, for him, is nothing more than stretching before a light sparing session in my book. Breaking that pompous arse was easy, like breathing.” There was a particular smile that crept onto her face.

It wasn’t a nice smile Hank decided. One he hoped wasn’t ever directed at him. “Aren’t you worried that marshals will come to arrest you?” It was something that Hank had been curious about since he had heard the story in the bar.

Sabine snorted in amusement. Fritz cracked up. Hank didn’t know what was so funny. “What?”

Grinning Sabine responded. “You really don’t know who the hammer brethren are do you? He came at me all kitted out and proud in full plate armour, wielding a war hammer. I broke his jaw, forearm and two ribs with my bare hands in the process knocking his silly ass unconscious. When I informed his number two that the hammer brethren were now personally involved, he backed off, arrested the unconscious fool and that was the last time the authorities wanted to be involved.”

“Isn’t that a little strange?” Hank frowned.

“No.” She was emphatic. “The brethren have a reputation for crushing armies. Most governments don’t like us anywhere in numbers unless we’re comfortably on the payroll. Issues like the mine contract, are a problem for both parties. A grey area that both sides try to avoid. We usually charge big fees and don’t get involved in internal politics. Both of which was not the case for the mine. I was only there because it was my brother. When they found out I was related to Gruffly it quickly became apparent that the town council would prefer if we took such an awkward situation to another town.”

“So, when Fritz came to talk to you, when you were about to fight Gruffly, it wasn't about him protecting his fiancé?” Hank was starting to see the light.

“No, it was about the last time Gruffly and I had a fight.” She turned slightly despondent.

“Oh?” Hank asked.

“He hasn’t knocked me down for a long time, the last time we fought he couldn’t work for 3 days. Fritz was right we couldn’t afford that on the road.” She gritted her teeth almost growling. “He still needs to be knocked into next week. Imagine that, saying his own sister needs to get back to the house and raise sprats like women should.”

The fire clearly had not died down.

“Just as well my hammer and axe were tucked safely under the chair or I might have given him a lesson neither of us could survive.” She was still mumbling obviously to herself.

“Hammer and axe?” Hank was curious.

That pulled Sabine out of her funk. “Stand up” she positively beamed as she stood up herself.

She didn’t get down from the cart but rather stood in her seat. Just as well there was no canopy over the cart or there would have been no chance for Hank’s 6’1 frame to do the same thing.

As soon as he was standing, Sabine lifted the lid of the seat they had been using. And then reaching in she pulled out a hammer and an axe. She dropped the seat back and then sat back on the seat.

“This is my left hand.” She said holding out a wicked looking axe. It had a wooden haft that was banded and wound in various places, but the work of art was the double half-moon blades with a steel spike at the top. Everything show signs of heavy use but careful maintenance.

Hank took the axe from her so he could have a closer look. He then realised that Sabine was hiding more than just her weapons. It was heavy, too heavy for him to wield with one hand. He would have to use both hands he thought. Maybe even then he would struggle. Strangely, the reach was poor, the handle was only about a foot long.

“And you only use one hand for this?” Hank was surprised.

“Well it depends. Normally we prefer weapon and shield combinations for combat. Typically you pick either the axe or the hammer not both. But I’m ambidextrous so I can fight with both hands. Much more interesting really. Depending on the fight I might start traditionally, hammer and shield. Usually by the end I have changed a few times. It really depends if something happens in the fight.” Her eyes seemed to almost glow with enthusiasm.

“And what might happen?” Hank didn’t fight much. He just assumed, loose your weapon and your lost.

“Snapping a haft is most common. That happens when you block too many strikes with the haft and you have not been more diligent in your defence.” She replied.

“If that's the case then why do you make the hafts out of wood and not steel?” It didn’t make sense to Hank.

“Not enough give in the steel. Too often there is a jarring strike, and you drop your weapon. With swords it's not as bad because most of the strikes are about piercing and cutting strikes and there is flex in the blade. With things like axes and hammers it’s all blunt force strikes. Much more wearing on the hands.” She looked at him.

“So why the short haft? Surely reach is important. For myself my staff gives me a huge reach advantage.” Hank asked.

“It's a question of balance. I am sure you can relate, I am sure adding those bronze ends changed the balance. How long to change your strikes and blocks to match?” She asked.

“Well actually I don’t know. I only bought this staff yesterday and apart from a couple of swings at the back of the inn I don’t know how it will go.” Hank responded.

“Why did you get a new weapon when you are setting out on a quest such as ours?” Sabine looked at him like he was crazy. “Not a wise move.”

Hank was embarrassed for a second. “I only had a bow and a walking stick before.” He Paused. “Well I also had a Shashka, but I was awful with a sword.”

“A Shashka, huh. Well their shape and unique balance makes them harder to learn with than the more common swords. Better advantages later but a problem to learn with. Fullered?” She asked.

“If you mean the groove thingy, then yes. Anyway as I was saying I broke my walking stick coming into town whilst I was fighting off bandits. I needed a replacement. Had to sell the Shashka to pay for it.”

“When we stop for the night you had better bring it out and we can give you some practice.”

“What me and my staff against you and your hammer and axe.” Surprise coloured Hank’s tone.

“I’ll probably have to use my trainers, I wouldn’t want to ruin your new stick.” She smirked.

“You seem very sure of your abilities and weapons.” Hank was still feeling positive about his fight from last week, even if his cut was still not fully healed. “Aren’t you concerned about how far away I can strike you?”

“No.”

Hank would have continued but Fritz interrupted him. “Oy, unsel’ ‘r m’by bell ‘oy stan’. Choo, daf’ t’ ‘ave ye tapper an’ ye chopsie ou’ a’ unsel pass ‘em i’ th’ clock ye sneeze.”

“Right.” Sabine grabbed the axe from Hank. “Stand up we need to put these away.”

Hank stood up. "What did Fritz have to say?”

“O, he told me that we are close to the marshal’s gatehouse.”

“And?” Hank was missing something.

“That I would be stupid to have my weapons lying around as we will be there before you can blink. Well in compidg the idioms are different but you get the drift.” She explained.

“So! It’s not illegal to go armed in the cities of Miylan.” Hank wasn’t connecting the dots.

“No it’s not but my weapons identify me and that would lead to awkward questions.” She replied calmly

“Identify you as what, a warrior?” Hank still didn’t understand.

“No. These weapons are distinctive. Recognised as weapons of ‘the brethren’. Your King is keen to acquire our services. Something that we haven’t agreed to, yet. So best to avoid awkward conversations in the short term.”

No sooner than the axe and hammer were safely put away, the cart rounded a corner and right in front of them stood the wall and gatehouse.

A line of carts stretched almost to the corner forcing Fritz to pull them up to a stop. Hank groaned. There was always a line getting out. The gates opened after dawn and not before, there were always people who wanted to beat the daily jam, grind, congestion, or whatever you called it, by arriving early.

In Hank’s experience, all the early bird ever got was grumpy, stuck in traffic. He much preferred to take his time with mornings and let the first rush die down before getting on with the day. He reflected he shall have know that Gruffly’s early plans would result in traffic.

A scuffle broke out ten carts ahead. People started yelling and screaming. Hank assumed someone had pushed into the the line. Naturally the guards were called, so nobody went out whilst they dealt with the fracas. Sabine’s chattiness disappeared leaving Hank tp his thoughts.

He hadn’t finished his wake up tea due to that drawing thing. Gruffly and Sabine’s disagreement followed by a queue fight inside of an hour, he reflected morosely, meant there was no chance of leaving before 9 am. Really, he should have stayed in bed and told them all they could meet outside the gate at 10. “Mornings, nobody survives the dam things. We should just sleep through them, it’s much more peaceful.”

“Not a morning person I take it. The sun’s out birds chirping. What’s not to like?” Sabine was obviously a morning person.

“What’s to like? Nothing good ever happens in the morning. I got stabbed on a morning, about this time too. Dad always dragged me out of bed early to do chores. In the morning you discover how painful last night’s fun is going to be. I hate mornings.”