A man and a woman ran headlong down a beaten dirt path that cut through a field of wild grass. The man clutched a boy of two in his arms and looked over his shoulder constantly as he ran. He couldn’t see them yet, but he could hear the shouts of their pursuers close behind. The sun was low in the sky, and a forest lay up ahead. Their salvation seemed so close, and yet so far away.
“They’ll intercept us before we get to the woods,” he panted. “Here, take him.”
The woman’s hands shook as she took the boy from the man’s arms. He drew the slender sword he had hidden in his walking stick and the couple exchanged looks.
“I’ll hold them off for as long as I can,” he said, his face white with fear. “You must keep him safe.”
The woman nodded. “I will do my best, darling.”
“Go,” the man ordered as he tightened his grip around his sword, desperately wishing he had a proper one instead of this flimsy thing.
The boy began to cry and reached out at the man with his hands. He was scared. Up until an hour ago, they had been part of a group of travellers, making their way to the next town when they were set upon by bandits. The man and woman had managed to slip away with the child in the initial chaos, but it seemed the bandits were quick to realize this and had wasted no time in mounting a pursuit.
The boy watched wide eyed as the man planted himself in the middle of the path. Soon, the bandits came bursting out of the long grass, their swords turned orange by the setting sun. The man let out a defiant roar as he charged the lead bandit. Their swords clashed and three more bandits leapt past the duo.
The boy gasped as the man’s sword snapped. The blade was thin and made for concealment. His opponent knew it. Moments later, the bandit’s sword cleaved into his chest. The man staggered forward and embraced his killer stubbornly until his strength left him. The bandit finally managed to wriggle free and beheaded the man in a single stroke.
The boy tightened his grip on the woman’s shoulder as the remaining bandits caught up quickly. Their faces were masks of grim determination. The woman glanced over her shoulder and shuddered before setting the boy down.
“You are so young and cannot die here,” she said, forcing a smile as tears streamed down her face. “Run. Run for the woods and hide!”
The boy held back his tears and nodded before toddling off in the direction of the woods. He couldn’t help but look back as he ran and watched as the woman spread her arms and stood in the middle of the path. One of the bandits hacked her down mercilessly, and in her death throes, she clung to his ankle.
As the remaining bandit drew nearer, the boy stumbled and fell. The bandit’s eyes were filled with remorse as he stood over the prone boy. He raised his sword and was about to grant the boy a merciful death when screams behind him caught his attention.
“Do you know who we are?” the man demanded as he turned around.
“Dead,” a new voice replied.
There was something soothing about the voice that made the boy feel at ease almost at once. The bandit roared and charged the man. Moments later, his body shuddered before going limp. The new arrival withdrew his blade from the bandit’s neck and looked down at the boy.
He was of average height and slight of build, but he looked like a god in the eyes of the boy. He carried with him a straight edged bladed weapon of a unique design that wasn’t as long as the bandits’ swords. The ground around him was dyed red in the bandits’ blood and yet not a drop was visible on him.
“A great betrayal has taken place, and a time of endless strife is about to begin,” he said gravely. “You will need strength to survive these times. Your parents, the people you were travelling with. Those who killed them. Their deaths are proof they lacked the strength to survive.”
The boy looked up at the man, wide-eyed and not understanding most of his words. All he knew was that he was safe, and that strength was the only way he could stay that way.
“Come with me, boy,” the man said as he began to walk in the direction of the woods. “I am but a vagabond who knows only how to kill, but I will teach you all that I can.”
The boy nodded and gingerly began walking after the man. When he stumbled, the man did not help him to his feet but stopped and waited for the boy to pick himself up and continue after him. As they walked into the woods, he began to hum a tune.
Gav’s consciousness began to return as the familiar tune continued, and he started to relax. He opened his eyes and saw a familiar back bent over a stove. The smell of gruel filled the air and caused his stomach to rumble. He attempted to sit up but found he lacked the strength. As he slumped back down, the figure turned around.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Jevan said. “It’s about time.”
“I had a dream,” Gav murmured as he slumped back down. He was lying in a bed, on real sheets, and it felt heavenly.
“Oh?”
“I dreamt about the day we met,” Gav said drowsily. “You were humming that tune.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Jevan said as the hint of a smile crossed his face. “That happened a lifetime ago. I’m surprised you remember.”
Slowly, Gav’s wits began to return. “Where are we?”
“Safe,” Jevan replied with a cryptic smile. “Do you feel well enough to eat?”
Gav tried to move. His shoulder and his left hand throbbed with pain. “Give me a few minutes. How long was I asleep for?”
“A day and a half,” Jevan replied as he eyed his disciple.
“I did it,” Gav said, as he tried to read his master’s mood.
The old man cocked an eyebrow. “Do you think you did a good job?”
Gav groaned softly before shaking his head. “I made a real pig’s ear of it.”
“You should have killed him at the workshop,” Jevan pointed out. There was disappointment in his voice, and anger. “And the plan you concocted at the end was reckless. You are lucky to be alive.”
Gav sighed. So, his master had been watching him the whole time without his knowledge and had seen every mistake he made. “I know, I know. I’ve learned my lesson.”
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“Have you?” Jevan ventured.
Gav nodded. He felt a shaft of guilt as he looked at his master. He was already old when they met fourteen years ago and had been living a life of quiet retirement deep in the woods on the border between Cumbar and the Kingslands. He had been on his way to the nearest village for provisions when he had chanced upon Gav and taken him in. He had spent the next thirteen years pouring his knowledge into the boy.
Then, two years ago, on one of their trips out of the forest, they had discovered that the village they frequented for provisions they could not make themselves had been wiped out. One of many swallowed up by the long war. It was then that Gav resolved that he should use his skills to help protect the people at pestered his master into going out into the world with him, swearing he would go out on his own if it came to it. Loathe to see his pupil die needlessly in a peasant army, Jevan Fitral had reluctantly come out of retirement and sought out his old contacts, offering Gav a glimpse into the past his master had always kept secret from him.
Gav still remembered his first kill. He was a hedge knight who was terrorizing a village, taking food and women as he pleased, killing any who would oppose him. The villagers had gathered what little they had and hired him to have him killed. It was a messy kill. When it was time to do the deed, Gav froze. The man put up a desperate fight and Gav had thrown up as he hacked the man to pieces in a fit of panic. His first target had suffered terribly before he died and it taught Gav the importance of focusing while on the job if for no other reason than to minimize his target’s suffering.
“How do you feel?” Jevan repeated.
Gav blinked. “Better. I should be fit to travel after I’ve had something to eat. I assume we’re still in the Finger, although I cannot begin to imagine how you carried me out of Adlecrest after I’d stirred the beehive.”
Jevan smiled crookedly and raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think we’re not in Adlecrest?”
Gav shrugged and cocked his head at the stove. “You wouldn’t risk cooking a meal if we were still there.”
Jevan smirked. “Good, you still have your wits about you… such as they are.”
Gav’s stomach rumbled as the smell of gruel wafted over. Jevan gave him a look, and the boy smiled sheepishly. “I think I can eat now.”
Jevan nodded and ladled out some gruel into a wooden bowl while Gav took in his surroundings. They were in a small, single roomed cabin, and the windows were shut. His equipment was laid neatly on the table, and he saw that his master had bandaged his wounds.
“I’m sorry for making such a mess of that job,” he said.
Jevan eyed him for a moment before handing him the bowl. “We have another job, but I think that in light of your injuries and your previous performance, we should turn it down. You aren’t ready yet, in more ways than one.”
“Who is it?” Gav asked quickly.
Jevan hesitated before replying. “Mendel Verini, the Count himself. Upon hearing of Lord Vick’s death, he gathered a host and is preparing to set out from Dramouth to take command of the defences at Adlecrest.”
Gav’s eyebrows shot up. “It sounds like he was the main target all along…”
“Vick Dorin had to die either way. He is too capable a Verini leader,” Jevan replied and glanced at the bowl in his hand. “I thought you were hungry.”
Gav took the bowl quickly but did not eat. His hunger had vanished. “A good man had to die to draw him out…”
He paused and frowned. “Have we been working for House Balith all this time?”
Jevan shrugged. “Not directly, but through several layers of intermediaries.”
“Do we want them to win?” Gav asked carefully.
“Gordon Balith is the best candidate for king,” Jevan allowed. “However, he is a cold, ruthless man.”
“But I thought Count Victor controls Thesia,” Gav protested. “Surely he is the best positioned to win quickly.”
“Though Victor Hinton controls Thesia, he lacks the influence to rule,” Jevan spat. “The two top contenders are Gordon Balith and Heidel Vaint. Count Heidel is a snake who is only after his own interests. The people would not thrive under his rule. Though he isn’t perfect, Gordon Balith is the best candidate at the moment.”
“And if a better candidate appears?” Gav asked carefully.
Jevan shrugged. “If that person can bring a swift end to the war and rule effectively, then we will throw our support behind him.”
Gav nodded thoughtfully. “Do we really wield such power?”
Jevan hesitated before replying. “If you learn the appropriate lessons from your last job, then I would say you have the power to sway the course of the war to an extent.”
“That is heady wine indeed,” Gav grunted to himself.
Jevan arched an eyebrow. “Listen to you, sounding like an old philosopher. Where did you learn to speak like that, anyway?”
“I’m wise beyond my years,” Gav retorted indignantly.
“Well, o wise one,” Jevan began sardonically. “You should know that there are limits to how we can sway the winds of war. For instance, Vick Dorin would have made a fine king, and there are many other nobles in this realm who would as well. However, they lack the power, and we do not have the means to give it to them. All we can do is remove obstacles from those who have clear paths to the throne.”
“So only those two are qualified to rule?” Gav ventured.
“Among others,” Jevan allowed.
Gav’s eyes widened. “There are independent lords whose powers rival that of the Counts?”
Jevan glanced at the boy and shrugged. “Is that so surprising? The Four Counts have been whittling away at each other for the last fourteen years. There are many who have managed to slip between the cracks and grow their power. Now that Count Mendel’s back is against the wall, there are those whose power and influence surpass his.”
“Then won’t they just take his place once he’s dead?” Gav asked.
“None yet have the power to challenge the other three Counts,” Jevan replied. “This is why we need an undisputed power to claim the throne and restore order before our realm can further fragment into smaller states. If that were to happen, the war will truly never end.”
Gav nodded thoughtfully. “And if that king turns out to be a tyrant?”
“That is why we need to do all we can to ensure the best candidate wins this war while we can,” Jevan replied.
“And that’s Gordon Balith,” Gav breathed.
“We’ll take things one step at a time,” Jevan warned. “And if he proves himself to be an unsuitable candidate, we shouldn’t hesitate to remove him.”
“And if that prolongs the war?” Gav ventured.
“We will play it by ear,” Jevan said. “Things can change quickly. We must balance ending the war to end the people’s suffering with ensuring they get a benevolent leader. However, there will be no perfect solution, possibly only a least worst one.”
Gav nodded slowly. His mind was still foggy and struggled to process the information. At first blush, what his master said made sense.
“So, the job, do you want to take it?” Jevan asked. “I can turn them down if you aren’t. Mendel Verini is finished anyway.”
Gav was about to agree to take the job but bit his lip. Instead, he said. “Perhaps letting him live would be the best option for the people of the Finger.”
Jevan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Gav thought it over for a moment longer before explaining the Verini plan that he’d learned from Arden of how Count Mendel planned to sue for peace by renouncing his claim to the throne and throwing his support behind House Balith should the attack be turned back.
Jevan chuckled softly and shook his head. “Ah young Gavalan, so naïve. Both Gordon Balith and Mendel Verini know full well that one of them must die once the others are dealt with. Oh, Gordon will magnanimously accept House Verini’s bending of the knee, but they will both plot the downfall of the other. All this does is delay the inevitable.”
“Perhaps we should give Count Mendel the benefit of the doubt,” Gav offered meekly.
“Wake up, Gavalan!” Jevan’s voice was soft but his tone harsh. “Mendel Verini has not fought so hard these past fourteen years only to meekly step aside and let his hated rival take the throne. At worst, he will fall on House Balith down the line when they are distracted by the final showdown with House Vaint. Should this happen, the the common folk will have to suffer more years of infighting as new factions move to consolidate their power.”
Jevan paused and sighed. “This is a big job with big consequences, even bigger than the last. I will turn it down if you’re not prepared for it, either mentally or physically. However, what I will not stand for is you attempting to delude yourself into believing that turning it down is for the greater good.”
Gav wavered and looked at his master. Jevan’s gaze was as hard as steel, and he knew he had to trust his master’s judgement. Of course he did. His own judgement had led him astray too many times on the last job, and his master had been his rock for his whole life. “I’ll do it.”
Jevan’s gaze didn’t soften as his eyes bored into Gav’s. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” Gav said, more confidently this time.
Jevan let his gaze linger for a moment longer before he sighed sounding very weary. “I will let our fixer know.”
The old man paused before adding. “This will be tougher than the last job. You cannot afford to make the mistakes you did then.”
“I know master,” Gav insisted. “I won’t let you down.”
There was another weary sigh. “Go on, eat. I worked hard on it, and you need to get your strength back.”