The Northern Trunk Road was one of the most important high roads in the kingdom of Essica’s Northern Counties. It began in the city of Goldfield and wound its way east through the Veiled Forest, crossed the White Mountains through the fortress of Sentinel before descending into the Great Moors of Norrow and then turning south at the coast down into the Finger, the verdant peninsula where most of Norrow’s crops were grown, before terminating at the city of Dramouth on the Finger’s southern tip.
It was Gav’s first time in the moors, and the stark beauty of the landscape took his breath away as he walked down this well-travelled stretch of the trunk road. The moors were mostly rough grasslands, but great patches of heather sprang up amongst them, creating swathes of brilliant purple amid the otherwise muted brown landscape. The clashing colours were framed by the imposing jagged peaks of the White Mountains that rose dramatically to the west. It was still autumn, so the snow line only came down to the mountains’ knees but come winter, the mountains would be blanketed in white from top to toe.
He turned his gaze to the women and young children tending fields that lay close to the trunk road. Most of the men were either dead or serving in their lords’ armies. In the past, the Four Counts had permitted their men to return in the summer to farm. Even a kingdom at war needed to eat. However, over the course of the long war, many of the men had died, and now that Count Mendel’s back was against the wall, those who remained had to serve, harvest or no. So, it fell to the women, the infirm, and the children to feed their people. Many farms couldn’t survive and had been abandoned to be reclaimed by the moors.
Pebblefeld was one of the many waystations that lay along the trunk road, providing hot food or a warm bed to those who could pay. These waystations served the road’s many users who travelled for business, war, or leisure. Those in the latter category had been plentiful before the Great Traitor, Brandon Lansingian, had betrayed his king, ambushing him as he embarked upon a religious pilgrimage to a temple in the remote Reaches of the Kingslands.
Before the war, the Five Counts had been King Jeremiah’s most trusted lieutenants. The Count of Cumbar, Brandon Lansingian had been the most powerful among them and basked in the king’s favour. It had fallen to him to guard the lands to the north of the Temple of the Five Sisters while the king entered the temple and an honour guard of only twenty men to give thanks to the Gods for the birth of his only son, who was also present.
It was then that Count Brandon had done the unthinkable. He gathered all eight hundred of his honour guard and marched on the temple. They had surrounded it, and demanded the king’s surrender. Rather than being captured, King Jeremiah had taken his own life and ordered his body burned while his bodyguards held House Lansingian’s forces off. As soon as they heard of his treachery, the other four Counts denounced Brandon’s treachery and raised their banners. They marched on the Reaches where Brandon was attempting to lead his forces back to safety in his home County of Cumbar. However, loyalist forces burned a vital bridge, delaying the Lansingian forces and allowing the loyalists to intercept him.
Rather than allow himself to be captured and paraded around like a common criminal, Brandon too took his own life in the thick of the fighting. Now without a king, the four remaining Counts seized as much of the Kingslands and Cumbar as they could before turning upon one another in a bitter war for the crown. However, the Counts had been chosen well by King Jeremiah. Individually, they were evenly matched, and as a result, the war had now raged for fourteen years.
All Gav could think of when he saw the state of Pebblefeld was how selfish the Great Traitor had been in breaking the peace and plunging the realm into turmoil, causing thousands of deaths and untold suffering, all to further his own selfish ambitions. There were signs that the town had once been vibrant. Dozens of buildings fronted the main road that had once provided various services to travellers. Now, many of them had been abandoned, their carcasses picked clean over the years, and what few remained occupied were in various states of disrepair.
Gav quickly found a rest house and decided it was as good a place as any to wait for contact from the boss. The rest house was little more than a thatch roof held up by wood pillars. It’s sides were exposed to the elements. Travellers sat on rough hewn benches and ate simple fare cooked in the open air kitchen next door. As he attempted to enter the establishment, a heavyset woman moved to block his path with remarkable agility. She folded her thick arms beneath her ample bosom and looked at him eyed him with disdain.
“We don’t do charity here,” she said balefully. “And we don’t want no one disturbing our guests.”
Gav hid a smile. He was dressed in rags and had dirtied his face so that he looked like one of the many urchins who plied the road, begging for alms. They were a common sight in Norrow lately. Most were orphaned by war, orphaned by bandits, or the children of families who had lost everything to the war, and his master had often told him that nothing was quite as invisible as a beggar.
“I can pay,” he said reached into his pouch and produced three copper coins.
The woman raised an eyebrow and snorted before snatching the coins from his hand. “Fine, sit down and I’ll serve you shortly. But eat quickly, and don’t you bother no one. I’ve got my eye on you.”
The matron stood aside and Gav took a seat at an empty table towards the rear. As soon as he was seated, the matron returned to place a steaming cup of ginger infused tea in front of him before walking off without a word. It seemed the menu was set but Gav didn’t mind. He just wanted to rest his feet and look for signs of the boss.
“Spare some change, big brother?” a high pitched voice asked.
The boy looked no older than six and had sidled up to Gav as soon as the matron had turned her back. He looked malnourished and his clothes were threadbare and full of holes.
“I’m afraid I’ve just spent it all,” he lied, seeing that more urchins listening intently from outside in the periphery of his vision.
They were studying the rest house’s patrons carefully, looking for easy marks. His heart went out for them. He was a war orphan as well and would probably have had the same fate had his master not taken him in and taught him the skills he needed to survive in the current state of the world. However much he wanted to distribute all he had to these poor children, he couldn’t, for it would attract attention, and that was something he could ill afford. Besides, his boss was sure to be watching him. Perhaps this one had been sent to test him.
Or probably not. He swatted away the hand of the young girl who had crept into his blind spot just as it touched his clothes.
“You’re a sharp one, big brother,” the boy beamed before fleeing with the girl in tow.
“They weren’t giving you any trouble, were they?” the matron asked as she arrived with a steaming bowl of gruel in hand.
“No, ma’am,” Gav replied.
He frowned as the matron set the bowl in front of him and discretely pulled one of his boots off with his feet. He pressed his bare foot against the rest house’s earthen floor and sighed. Horsemen were approaching. He thought he could sense a wagon among them but couldn’t be sure. From their pace, they probably weren’t bandits, but he decided it was probably not worth being seen here by whoever it was. He searched among the children loitering outside the rest house. He quickly spotted the two who had attempted to pick his pockets and beckoned them over.
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“Ma’am,” he called as he put his shoe back on and stood. “I’m letting these two have my meal.”
The matron looked at the two wide eyed children suspiciously before shrugging. “It’s your money.”
Gav tipped his hat briefly and ruffled the boy’s hair. He then caught the girl’s hand as it was about to slip into his pocket again. She grinned at him.
“Doesn’t hurt to try, eh?” she beamed toothily. “Thanks for the meal, big brother.”
“I just felt nature’s call.”
Gav waved goodbye as he walked out of the rest house through the back and headed into the moor. He crouched down in a heather patch a hundred yards from the road and watched as a group of soldiers on horseback came riding into town under the banner of House Verini, three white mountains on a field of blue. People began to gather curiously while others beat a hasty retreat.
“People of Pebblefeld, I bring dire news!” one of the horsemen cried. “Our Lord, Count Mendel has withdrawn from Sentinel and orders all his loyal subjects to follow him into the Finger!”
Despite being over a hundred yards away, Gav could hear every word clearly. He could also see that the people were largely unmoved by the announcement.
“He has also decreed that every subject in the Great Moors is to surrender all grain and metalware to us,” the horseman continued as he held up a piece of paper.
This elicited an angry response from the gathered people.
“How will we eat!” someone demanded.
“What will we do without our tools?” someone else asked.
“Can’t cook with wood pots now, can we?” he heard the matron add.
“Silence!” the horseman roared. “Food will be provided to all refugees at the Finger! Travel light and turn over all food and metalware. Those who are found hiding it from us will be charged with treason!”
Angry shouts began but died down when a soldier cut down an angry peasant mercilessly. Gav heaved a sigh. Then, he jumped as he felt a presence next to him and reached for his sword.
“The more desperate the rulers get, the more their people suffer,” a familiar voice said. “This is why our work is so important.”
“Master,” Gav grinned as a white haired man crouched next to him. He was dressed as a beggar and appeared to be missing a leg below the knee, though the boy knew that his master had simply strapped his lower leg to his thigh and could release it quickly if the need arose.
The others knew Javen Fitral as the boss, but he was like a father to Gav. Javen had found him at a young age and taught him everything he knew so that he could defend himself in these troubled times. He was also the only person Gav knew of who could sneak up on him.
“You gave your meal to those two,” Javen observed dryly. “Why?”
Gav held his grin. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Master?”
Javen heaved a tired sigh. “It wouldn’t take much for a soldier to ask why someone like that matron was feeding those urchins. Then, they would point the finger at you.”
“It’s a good thing I’m long gone,” Gav remarked.
“It’s these little things that get you caught, Gavalan,” Javen warned wearily.
Gav glanced at the old man and shrugged. “You worry too much, Master.”
“It’s why I’m still alive.” The sentence was punctuated by another tired sigh. “Do you think our work is so trivial that you should risk it to feed two orphans?”
Gav recognized the tone that signalled an impending lecture and was at once apologetic. “I’m sorry master, I just saw myself in them.”
“Remember the greater good,” Gav suppressed a sigh as his master embarked on his oft repeated lecture. “Our work has the power to save thousands of lives. However, we cannot do that if we are languishing in a dungeon or executed. We do the countless suffering innocents out there a disservice if we are caught or killed due to a moment of carelessness.”
Jevan paused and looked Gav in the eye. “Do you understand?”
“Yes Master,” the boy replied at length.
“Good,” Jevan declared. “Now, let us discuss your next job.”
Gav’s felt his pulse quicken, and his joy at being reunited with his master evaporated. He was about to kill again.
“It’s only one man this time,” Jevan said, as though sensing the boy’s unease.
Knowing that did make Gav feel better. Somewhat. He still saw the men he’d killed on his last job in his dreams. They were all holding their heads in their hands, staring at him. Their eyes seemed to speak to him. “Why us? We had dreams, aspirations, and you’ve robbed us of them.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master, you were saying?”
The old man eyed his pupil for a moment before ruffling his hair affectionately. “You did well on the last job. It couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“The job was easy,” Gav said softly and paused as his body shuddered. “It’s what’s come after.”
“Those men were evil, you saw that,” Jevan replied. “Look at what they did to that town, and what they were about to do to the province. How many hundreds had to suffer in their quest for power, and how many thousands have been spared that fate?”
Gav nodded. “I know, but still…”
“It was for the greater good,” Jevan assured him. “Now, about our next target.”
He paused as shouts came from the road. Soldiers were berating the people for the meagre amounts of food and metal items they had surrendered. Their leader barked an order and men began storming into buildings.
“It’s a big one, Gavalan, one that will make a big difference to these people’s lives,” Jevan said.
Gav swallowed. “Who is it?”
“Lord Vick Dorin,” Jevan replied. “He is in the fortified town of Adlecrest organizing the defence of the Finger.”
Gav blinked. He had been in Norrow for months now and had heard the commonfolk speak of him. “But why him? By all accounts, he’s an honourable man who treats his subjects with respect.”
“He is also the last competent general House Verini has left,” Jevan said. His voice and eyes turned cold, sending a chill down Gav’s spine. “All the others defected of fell on their swords after the siege of Sentinel. However, with Lord Vick commanding the defences, House Verini can hold the Finger for months. In that time, as the Verini army is slowly eroded, its people will be pressed into a hopeless fight. No one will be left to grow the food and the people will starve as their loved ones die on the front lines.”
As though to underline Jevan’s point, a soldier appeared from one of the houses clutching two small bags of grain. The owner of the house was made to kneel in the dirt and beheaded in clear view of the gathered crowd. As his body slumped to the ground, the two children Gav had fed rushed to his side and began to wail.
“I will say this again, hiding grains or metalware from us is a capital offence!” one of the soldiers roared. “Turn everything you have over!”
The inhabitants of the waystation hurried to comply while the soldiers searched the travellers before letting them pass. Soon, the final caches had been turned over, and the soldiers cursed them for the paucity of the haul. Gav took a deep breath and gathered his resolve.
“I’ll do it,” he said at length.
Jevan broke into a smile. “There’s a good lad. Remember, this will be a difficult job. You must be ruthless and can afford no mistakes. I’ll find you in Adlecrest when it is done.”
Gav nodded absently as he watched the soldiers march arrogantly out of the waystation in the direction of the Finger, leaving despair and devastation in their wake. The travellers who had been heading in that direction sat on the ground, deciding to wait for the soldiers to get a little further down the road before continuing on their journey.
When Gav turned around, he saw that his master had gone. No surprise there. He decided to sleep where he was and continue on his journey tomorrow. There were at least four more waystations between Pebblefeld and the Finger, and the soldiers were sure to shake each of them down before nightfall so that no one could overtake them in the night and give them advanced warning. He decided to spend the night here in the field before setting off at first light.
As looked at the clear blue sky as he lay amidst the heather patch, Gav’s mind began to wander. All this suffering because a few men desired more power, Gav thought to himself. No, all this suffering was caused by one man’s thirst for power: Brandon Lasingian, the Great Traitor. If only he had been born earlier and possessed the abilities he now possessed. He’d be able to kill Brandon before he killed the king, and then war wouldn’t have broken out. The people would have lived in peace and not have to know the suffering of this endless war.
However, that was impossible, so the next best course of action was to end the war as quickly as possible. Which side deserved to win amongst the Four Counts? All Gav knew after the display he had just witnessed was that Count Mendel had lost the right to rule his county. He would conduct the next job to the best of his ability and hasten the end of House Verini. Then, he would ask his master which side he thought was most worthy of rule and push him to help them take the throne quickly. He clenched his fist and held it up to the sky.
“We have the strength to tip the balance of power,” he thought without conceit. “The next job will prove that. Only when an undisputed king takes the throne once again will the suffering of the common folk end.”