From his vantage point atop the wall Raven Stoneoath surveyed the moonlit city of Burtyne.

The day had been trying.

He had planned to walk out into the western woods. Sheep had been stolen, no doubt by some youths from a neighbouring town or village, and he had a rough guess where they would be.

Meanwhile his 'followers' were sent to the south to address a small bandit problem, nothing too dangerous, just 2 or 3 jumped up fools who had been harassing travelling merchants.

It was to be a day of peace and self reflection as he wandered the woods listening for the tell tale call of sheep in distress.

Like all of his plans though; to stay true to his oaths, to keep himself to himself, to grow a beard, it had ultimately fell through and his role was to grin and bare it as best he could.

He'd been forced to pass on the western woods, which still called to him as he stared out of the gatehouse watch towers. He imagined the day he could have had, and instead he'd lead his followers, the self named 'Flock', to the bandits in the south with some new recruits in tow that he didn't ask for or want.

Every year some aimless youths asked to join him in his 'crusade against crime' as some called it, his 'Flock of freedom fighters' his 'Justiciars of Justice' (which frustrated him doubly because it was so lazy, why not 'Justicars of...' there wasn't a great deal that fit with that one, but it still bothered him).

Initially he had pushed everyone away, ignoring them as best he could, but they'd followed anyway. One by one they fell in behind him, dressing like him, standing watch next to him, training alongside him, but as he'd made clear several times; not with him.

The only solace he could find was in his own quarters but even then he could hear them outside; whispering, awaiting his return, almost pawing at the doors like a dog needing to be let out for its morning release.

Short of throwing them in cells or getting involved physically he couldn't stop them from pretending to be with him, no matter how hard he chastised them.

He knew from watching that it was only a matter of time before something happened.

He'd seen them almost lop an ear off in 'practice', almost start a fight with some ruffians who should have easily been talked down.

In the end to stop them from hurting themselves he'd allowed them to swear bastardised versions of his own oaths and bind themselves to him in an effort to regain some control and keep some semblance of order.

This was quite literally his last resort after months of being followed around the city.

This was how the 'Flock' as they called themselves had formed, how the 7 had fallen under his wing.

It wasn't really his area though, he was supposed to do all this alone, leadership was never part of the training he undertook and it wasn't really his strong suit, they'd been drawn to him because of his stoic nature and calmness in the face of blood and battle, and yet they wanted him to be some charismatic leader.

In a burst of frustration at his new role and the expectations heaved upon him he had written a strongly worded letter to his masters, at the Oathbinder mountain, advising them of their missing lessons and his current predicament.

Of course it was not to be sent and merely a way for him to vent to keep his calm, that was until Faldier, the lovely yet portly fellow who stood behind him now, tense and unable to relax until given clear instructions to do so, took it upon himself to become Raven's bookkeeper and sent it off without asking.

He had received several very, very stern letters back in response.

Six years later and Faldeir still apologised regularly and he was still receiving letters from the masters.

As of now he had 4 more recruits after years of pushing them away, they just kept coming.

The one solace of today's bandit hunt is that it had bloodied the over eager youngsters and it was his hope that seeing a grown man cry as his arm tumbles into the underbrush might send them all running back to their homes to chase more suitable roles.

This hadn't been his goal, he thought he could talk them down, but at seeing the 12 armed men and women approaching the bandits had acted like cornered animals. They'd lashed out without thought and the fight had been over before half of the Flock had drawn their swords.

'We've been stood here for quite some time now, sir, the rest of the Flock are meeting at the Inn to see the bard that announced himself in that strange way. Any chance we could... Join them, before Taraveen drinks himself unconscious again. I'd rather not have to carry him home without getting a drink or two in me first Captain?"

Raven had noticed the man and then completely forgot about him, he made no impression at all, he was a ball of anxiousness and in a constant state of approval seeking. He was loyal though and Raven often enjoyed his company more than most although after all this time he still wasn't sure if they were friends or if they were just soldier and commander.

In a battle he could read the next move before it happened but in a social setting? He was lost, he wasn't sure if he was been flirted with or threatened until it was too late either way.

He could hear feet shuffling anxiously behind him and the turning of the raven beaks over in his hands like they were ball bearings. It was a silly tradition that had started too long ago to stop, each of his people claiming some raven based object as a talisman or some sort.

It was absolute nonsense.

They'd dressed like him before he took them on and now they each played up to this ridiculous bird motif, it was quite simply put, awful.

He wasn't named after the bird, he was named after the Raven black hair that he'd had from birth not that anyone ever cared to ask.

They'd turned him into this character, someone to look up to and who was expected to play the part of leader without fail, it wasn't him, he could fake it and it worked that way sometimes, but what if something happened?

How could he live with himself if they fell in service to him?

He was trapped.

"Did any of the newbies go to the tavern Fal?"

Faldeir paused for a moment, Raven didn't need to turn to know he had his chubby finger squeezing his bottom lip as he always did when pretending to think of answer he already knew. He never wanted to appear over eager, and yet, he always did.

"Erm...I don't believe so Sir, believe they all wanted an early night"

"We shouldn't leave them alone, should we? Someone should stand watch tonight to ensure they can handle the day's events."

2 of the recruits had cried as blood hit their face from the fallen enemies, 1 had passed out completely, the last had gone pale but held their nerve.

He was sure he could hear the whipping of the air as Fal's head swivelled from Barracks to Tavern.

The Tavern that Faldeir lusted after was a 3 story crooked building centred in the middle of the city 'The Nest' as it was now called due to him and his people's presence(he hated that name, so, so much) had light streaming from every window.

It was a fair distance from where they stood, but the music and laughter carried well to them.

The square surrounding the Inn was large and open allowing the sound to carry and invite more wayward folk in, not that it was needed after news of a bard had spread.

They'd heard about the voice that came from everywhere that announced him when they'd returned to the city. Raven was sure it was an exaggeration but it had tickled the interest of most of the people, as it was obviously designed to

He felt he could feel Fal's longing for the place.

The bard was an excuse he knew, at least partly, he turned a blind eye to the reckless amount of drinking his people did. It allowed him some peace most mornings to practice or think alone.

It was still a rare treat this far north, most bards stayed South or East where they could live comfortable lives in landowners beds. Kings without the consequences he'd heard Resamin once say in a bitter tone.

This was a land of workmen, labourers, sailors and farmers, they didn't have much to give to a person trained in the craft of entertainment, so few bothered.

Above all else, bards tended to be greedy.

His eyes were drawn back to the barracks, he sighed to himself as he surveyed the building directly below them. Beside the city gate, a large 2 storey stone house. The upper floor was decorated with beautiful stained glass windows depicting golden figures fighting monstrous devils, these signalled the rooms of him and his veteran followers.

The lower floor had simple glass less windows with metal cages on the outside in case of attack, they'd added those themselves.

He always felt slightly guilty when he saw it in it's entirety, it was a grand building for a town such as this. The people, and by habit himself, called it a city but it was far from it and it had little in the way of lavish dwellings.

But the people had insisted for the good of everyone that he have that strategic place to himself, and it was hardly his fault if the most strategic building was also one of the nicest, it also wasn't their fault if they'd had to relocate the Cleric to a small shack near the port.

A small smile crept to his lips, just touching the edges of his mouth, invisible to Faldeir and any other observers in the dark of night. He didn't really feel bad about shifting Cleric Obsenkent to the riverside, he detested religion, the rich or power hungry praying on the fears of the common folk.

Raven had been raised to believe in the power of the one, the power of binding oneself to an oath, strengthen yourself and others by being the best you can be.

The Cleric also happened to be a massive pompous arse, so seeing him in a crumbling shack, unable to see the irony of telling everyone that the gods will provide you with what you are worthy was very amusing.

There were no lights inside the barracks, it was dark but not too late.

This wasn't a surprise but also wasn't a good sign.

Raven finally turned to his longtime companion and 2nd. A short and plump man with hair seemingly getting thinner by the day.

Most wrote him off as a fat fool and while he may only be an average fighter at best, he was more than capable of leading in Raven's place when he had one of his many days of self doubt. Faldeir despite starting out no different than the others had become a confidant of sorts over the years but even he never knew very little of how much Raven hid behind the mask he put on for them all.

"Go to the barracks..." Faldeir's shoulders visibly sunk "and get everyone you can to the Tavern and enjoy your evening. I'll keep watch over the rest." Before the last words had escaped into the night the man was gone.

It was as if someone had released the drawstring on a bow and he was the arrow.

He flew down the steps and towards the barracks.

Mere moments later a single hastily dressed recruit clad in shadows struggled to follow Faldeir as he nearly danced from the barracks to the Inn.

Barely a moment later a flicker of movement in the shadows caught Ravens eye, 2 maybe 3 moving shapes trying to sneak away from the barracks in the opposite direction of Faldeir and towards the town gate. He watched amused as they moved in what they clearly considered a stealthily fashion beneath him.

A single look upwards and they would have spotted his outline in the moonlight staring at them.

They shimmied towards the gate.

A shame, Raven thought, 3 who couldn't take it and didn't have the bravery to admit it outright. But as long as they didn't force themselves to stay, that was the important thing.

He'd let them scuttle off to whatever homestead they came from, watching as they forced themselves through the smallest opening they could make without drawing attention.

Turning himself to face out over the widespread trees and rolling hills, he placed his hands on the cold stone outcroppings that came up to his waist that were already gathering dew from the damp evening. He'd watch them as far as he could, he could check beds tomorrow and get names, ride out and ensure they got home safe but best he could do now was to ensure they were safe as long as he could see them.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Admittedly this wouldn't be far in the dark of night.

Raven leaned forward, letting his elbows replace his hands on the wall as the figures approached the crossroads, he'd lose them once they crested the slight hill in a moment...

Suddenly they darted to the West, falling into a crouched sprint.

He searched the roads and listened intently to the night to see if they were being chased or in danger...nothing but the quiet sounds of a dying night in the town.

The dark was like the curtain he desperately tried to part with straining eyes to find his former wards again.

There were glimpses he managed when the moonlight caught the buckle of a boot or the edge of a ring, tiny moments that made the time in-between sightings feel eternal.

After the last glint of light there was nothing for some time, too long, maybe they'd been in a rush to get home, but that was naïve and Raven knew something was wrong. They'd left the marked path when the western road to Sildaris' hold was just ahead of them and it was much safer than running in fields at night. Something was gnawing at him, urging him to jump the 2 storey drop on the road and give chase, but he waited, just a little longer he thought.

Then they came out of the shadows, tiny figures moving across the back fields of Jaycob's farm, if he wasn't already watching he'd have thought it an animal or some kind. His hands were tense, they'd retaken their place on the wall and his chest was pressed against them ready to spring into motion.

One final glint on the distance figure showed what he feared, too big to be a ring, too high to be a boot.

He jumped over the parapet, falling into a low roll to protect himself and began sprinting off into the night. He knew what they were doing, the poor farmer was never to be free of his sons' sins...and Raven's judgement. There had been an incident on the way back to the city with 3 of the recruits, the same 3 if Raven had to guess, that he had let slide. The wounded ego of 3 hopeful warriors had lashed out at an old man exiled from the city walls and had been left with bloody noses and further embarrassment. Raven thought the lesson had taught itself, his naivete on display again.

The constant suffering Jaycob endured was all Raven's fault, justice before compassion, he would never know if he made the right decision.

Raven ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the cold of the night seeping into the gaps in the black ring mail short sleeve armour he wore and his longsword rattling against it.

Faster fool

This was his role, not leader, but protector, and he was good at it.

Jaycob awoke from his restless sleep, with his leg still throbbing, for the third time that night. His small bedroom was silent and lightless but as his eyes adjusted he could make out the shape of his long suffering wife by his side as the covers slowly rose and fell with her breath.

He made his way back to the main room, deciding that maybe a fire would ease his aches and pains and he could sleep what was left of the night away in his chair. His back would be angry at him but his leg might be ok with that.

He cracked the door to the other bedroom as the fire started to catch and saw his daughter-in-law and grandson sound asleep in their shared bed.

When he thought about it his leg wasn't that bad, better than when he'd first come in, better yet then when he was woken the first two times. This shouldn't have woken him at all and the house was silent except for the crackling of the fire he'd just started.

He took a fire poker from the mantle and gently prodded the catching logs, he felt more at ease with this in his hand.

For some reason the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

He checked the two doors were locked and sat in his large backed chair, letting the poker rest across his knees, listening to the fire.

Crackle, pop

The popping and cracking of the log mixed in with the perfect silence his little part of the world captured on nights like this.

Crackle, pop

Ignoring the pain he felt his eyes growing heavy and the calming sounds and heat relaxed his body and mind

Crackle, pop, snap

Wide awake again he shot to his feet. The snap was just outside the door and his window less South wall.

A moment of further silence but whatever was outside knew the game was over.

Another moment later and the door burst off it's hinges and 3 figures stood in front of him, the yellow glow of the fire giving them a sinister appearance.

Jaycob hung his head out of more frustration than anything else, these 3 were new recruits by the Oathbound, they tried to start trouble earlier as the self titled 'Flock' had been returning to the city, but they'd failed to get the better of Jaycob in that instance (Resamin and Gaspar, The Ravens men, had dragged them back the city with bloody clothes and wounded pride, he'd thought that had been the end of it, just the young, brave and stupid testing an old town exile without thought) and clearly fancied their chances in this second attempt with some assumed element of surprise.

"Why are you back here? Kid your nose won't look great after a second break in the same day."

The lad he had put on his backside earlier stood forward, blade drawn, nose still slightly out of alignment.

"I will not be humiliated by some disgraced farmer and exile. I am going to join the Flock and be a hero."

Forced bravado for the sake of his companions.

It was a tense situation and Jaycob could tell the boy was trying to sound intimidating and serious but he couldn't hold back his chuckle as his voice was nasally and high pitched with chosen words that sounded so hollow.

"All you are is sad little boy who thought bullying an old man would get him the respect he's never had. I beg you, leave now and the Raven doesn't need to hear of this."

The boy spat at Jaycob's feet and motioned for his companions to start to flank. They were unskilled by any measure of swordsmanship Jaycob knew this from earlier and from his own experiences watching the Talon's training system, The Raven was a master of the sword but not a teacher.

The terrain was tight and favoured Jaycob greatly, regardless of numbers or his own body turning against him.

The one to his left wore a bandage around her shaved head, still nursing the wound from Resamin by the looks of the red patch marking the white cloth, she'd thumped her something terrible before Jaycob had got the chance.

The one to his right was a bit more heavy set then his two skinnier companions, more muscle then sense by the look of it. All 3 carried longswords that had seen better days and still wore the mismatched leather armour from the days training.

As the bandaged girl moved in Jaycob kicked his long backed chair towards her, knocking the unsuspecting trainee forward over it where she met Jaycob's knee as he threw it straight between her eyes as she landed unmoving face down on the seat.

He spun backward just in time to meet a non committed lunge from the heavy set boy now behind him. He threw his fire poker into the steel and batted it away from him and onto the floor, with his target off balance he threw the hilt of the poker clasped in his fist into the boys throat, sending him staggering back gasping for air as he flopped against the wall.

He began to panic and claw at his throat.

Jaycob used the poker to flick the rusty sword off the ground and into his hands, pointing both at the only remaining intruder.

"Take your companions and leave. Please."

The boy with the broken nose smirked.

It caught Jaycob completely off guard, after everything he'd just seen, his companions falling in seconds, he still had the brashness to think he could win this.

Jaycob was caught so off guard that he failed to notice another figure enter his home, using the smirking intruder's shadow to conceal his entrance.

As the boy's sword raised behind him for an overhead swing, Jaycob prepared his counter.

It wasn't needed.

A hand grabbed the sword and yanked it out of the boys grip, spinning him around in the process.

The sword was thrown against the ground and the now empty hand grabbed the boy by the throat and pinned him against the southern wall.

The Raven, now with his back to Jaycob cast an intimidating visage.

His black chainmail catching the red and yellow reflections from the fire, like the flames were creeping up the ringlets of his mail and his dark leather trousers and boots almost seemed to blend into the shadows around his feet.

The moving shadows and fire light created depths and haunting angles in his square, gaunt face and short black hair, making his angry grimace seem like the wrath of a god.

The normally calm man growled into the boy’s face.

"What is this?"

Silence.

"You think this is what I or the people want or need from you? To sneak into an innocent man’s home in the dead of night for petty revenge caused by your own brashness?"

The boy shrank at every word.

His eyes were panicked, searching for an answer that didn't exist.

"He attacked us, we were just defending ourselves. He's a madman, please sir. Save us."

Tears in the eyes, tremble in the voice, it was almost believable, except for every other aspect of their current situation.

The Raven who had been almost nose to nose with the boy leaned in even closer so their foreheads touched and he locked the boy’s eyes with his own.

"You act like a sad and pathetic little boy but you'll be judged accordingly at dawn like a man."

He turned as he said it, taking in the flapping large man still struggling to breath and the bandaged recruit who hadn't moved since Jaycob had hit her.

Raven darted a hand down to the boy’s waist as he headbutted him square on his already broken nose. He wrestled a dagger from his hands without much effort and sent it deep into the boy’s shoulder. Jaycob watched over the course of seconds as the pale bloodied face changed from panic, to anger, to pain again followed lastly by shock as he slumped down against the wall, passing out.

News of his jump from the parapet had eventually reached the barracks and not long after his brief fight with the failed recruits Jesop and Jenary came riding to the small farm house, they hadn't bothered the others and had called it an early night when they sensed the intention to get very drunk. There was also the fact that they were sleeping together and assumed Raven and the others didn't know.

"We'll get them back sir and locked up." Jesop stated the obvious as he led the 3 crying youths by their rope bound hands.

Each one blamed the other, or Jaycob or some unseen force.

Raven scratched his head where he felt a divot had been made in his forehead despite not being able to feel anything.

"We'll deal with them in the morning."

"Aye Captain" Jesop couldn't be less than double Raven's age, not a hint of his once dark hair remained in the grey beard or short cropped hair. The lines around his eyes were strained and many. Looking at him in the dim moonlight, he may actually be 3 times Ravens age. He was an old soldier and should have been retired and living a quiet life, but as he'd told Raven he didn't want to waste his knowledge and experience fishing himself to death.

He gave a salute and turned to return to his horse, that ridiculous Raven eye dangly earring he wore on his left ear swung as he turned.

He'd agreed badges on the uniforms if they had to have something and somehow that had translated to this over the top decoration of themselves, each one individual, the complete opposite of a uniform badge.

But no amount of orders or demands had gotten them to remove the silly bird decorations and Raven had given up.

Part of the legend they'd say.

He didn't want a legend, he'd wanted to do his duty, fulfil his oaths and that be enough.

Jenary may be the worst of the lot, saluting alongside Jesop she wore a horrid headdress made of Raven's feathers that draped over her shoulders, flying backwards in any kind of wind or breeze. She left without opening her mouth once which was unlike her. She was a sarcastic woman, not nasty, not on purpose anyway but her words were usually cutting and it made her few friends. She had dark hair that stopped at her neck and luckily sensed the mood tonight, a rare case of awareness. He shook his head as the 2 'Talons' rode off towards the city, dragging his 3 failures behind them, he could hear more of the sobs now carried back on the gentle night breeze as they realised the fate that would befall them in the morning.

"You can't hang them Raven, they are just kids."

Jaycob had joined Raven outside the house which stood silent, he had soothed his family quickly after dispatching the recruits, they were all far too used to this sort of thing now. He was an ageing man, much like Jesop he was an old soldier long retired to what should have been the quiet life of a farmer to be with his family. He kept his head shaved and his face hairless, a remnant of his training so long ago, his skin was dark from working so long in the sun and he walked with a heavy limp from an old wound although that didn't hinder his fighting by what Raven had seen inside.

"They are no more children than I am."

He was approaching his 24th year, 8 years he'd been protecting this town from itself.

"True, but if it wasn't them it would be someone else. You can't hang everyone Raven. " Jaycob sighed "The only folk that were hurt was them. Lesson learnt."

A long hard life had bred so much mercy and compassion into the old farmer, he hoped he could have a similar temperament if he reached anywhere near his age.

"They attacked you in your home, stole weapons from my barracks and the leader drew a knife on me. Actions must have consequences"

"Aye also true"

A heavy silence hung in the air, he was right and Raven knew it, or was Raven just easily swayed by the old man because of the guilt he felt towards him.

Raven sighed.

"I'll let them stew in the Duke's cells for a few days and have them escorted home in disgrace."

"Thank you, and goodnight Raven."

Jaycob limped back and through his open door and Raven sighed another heavy sigh before setting off back to the town.

The conversation ended abruptly as it often did these days. Jaycob felt no ill will towards Raven, he had made that clear but their friendship had ended many years ago and Raven couldn't blame him. Only himself.

Choosing partly out of respect, but mainly because he was in no great rush, he walked the small grass track that led to the main path back to the town, there was a slight chill in the air that wasn't unpleasant to walk in. The sooner he got back the sooner he would need to go to the barracks to rest, which would mean dealing with his followers as they drunkenly asked him to play cards, or do a late night training session or just share stories.

It wasn't Raven's area, he didn't capture thieves and kill bandits for stories, it was just his duty. He had been assigned to Burtyne to protect its people, he wasn't there for fame or admiration or even gratitude; it was just the role he had been assigned without choice.

He was good at it, but that didn't mean he considered any of his exploits story worthy, he didn't even remember most of them, it was just work.

A shepherd didn't remember every sheep he sheared.

He eventually made his way to the end of the grassy path, a lot sooner than he'd like but it was hard to walk any slower without completely stopping.

There were wooden fences, no higher than Raven's waist lining the fields to either side of the path, they'd been broken and repaired so many times and still now he could just about see the parts closest to him had been kicked in on purpose by wayward townsfolk.

Raven sighed as he rested for a moment against a fence post that hadn't been damaged, Jaycob's son had been a fine man, nothing much about him really, he married young and worked the farm as was expected of him. Rumours had persisted though of odd goings on with him, whispers of him being cursed, no doubt started by that fool Obserkent and his followers or some idle gossip of those with too much time on their hands.

He was troubled though and this became more obvious and undeniable as time went on, but not cursed, not that it mattered in the end.

Gregier had been his name, and he'd started getting worse and worse, paranoid and delusional, threatening people in the street. Raven broke up more than a few fights and had him spend days in irons and the city guards had often done the same, although they were less gentle than Raven had liked as their patience had begun to wear thin.

Raven knew looking back something should have been done, what, he couldn't know but the cycle kept repeating until finally Gregier snapped; killed 3 families in their beds in the same night.

He dragged their bodies into the street and screamed for hours, ranting like a madman.

It hadn't stopped until Raven had dropped him from the gallows they'd built just outside the barracks, Raven had made the mistake of looking into the crowd as he did it, catching the eye of the farmer as his son’s neck snapped.

There had been tears streaming down his cheeks but he kept silent as he gave the slightest nod to Raven and left the town for the last time, the family then exiled from the town itself and the deaths Gregier had caused were blamed on them.

All Raven could do for the man was protect him from stupid vengeful idiots like he did tonight.