Lond cried all the way through Worker’s Road. The passenger cart rocked noisily enough to hide his sobs but the couple next to him were visibly exasperated. At first, they had asked what was wrong or if he was sick. When Lond only answered with a hacking cough, they kept to themselves, occasionally throwing worried glances his way. After the first hour when the carriage-train arrived into the open plains, the couple did little to hide their annoyance.  The grass outside was a bright green and soft yellow and the sun was at just the right spot before noon to give it a shiny, soft light. And yet, Lond couldn’t care to admire it. Lond had a potato sack next to him and it was the reason he was crying. Everything that he had ever loved was in that potato sack. He remembered how his friends used to tease him for crying and, in turn, the times when he had made fun of his sister for crying in an attempt to emulate his friends. A tug of pain grabbed Lond in the back of the head and then came a wince at the thought of his sister. Caro, his sweet sister… 

He looked at the potato sack where the charred bones of his sister were. And maybe Father, too. He didn’t know for sure. All he had known was that he woke up a day ago and his house had been burnt down to ashes. He picked up every bone he could find, all skin and flesh charred clean off. He could feel his stomach churn at the thought. His sister Alli and Mother had gone out to the market before the fire and yet he couldn’t remember whether they came back and were caught in the fire, too. Lond had waited and waited after he woke up, his throat on fire from the ashes. He stayed awake until the dawn but they never returned.

Every time he tried to remember farther back, though, the back of his head hurt. He must’ve been knocked out. His tears seemed to be drying out but what had happened? Did their cooking pot spread a fire? One of Father’s pipes fell down the stairs? Was it something else? He’d woken up in their basement, barely breathing from the ashes in the air. It was a wonder he could still breathe or sob. He coughed roughly into his hand and looked at it. No blood. Lond wasn’t too well-versed in healing but even he knew that blood coming out of your body was a bad thing. He took no relief from this, though, and looked out the window at nothing. 

The only reason he took the carriage-train from the market was to bury Caro’s bones in her favorite place. He didn’t know what Father’s favorite place was but he hoped Father could forgive him.  Caro always liked going to Reshnia and she liked it even better to see the city’s  flower gardens. The city of Reshnia was about six hours away by carriage-train, so he thought he might get there by sundown. Coughing, he tried to close his eyes, holding tightly to the sack of bones. 

When he woke up again, the light outside was a bit dimmer. The sky had an orange tinge to it and Lond was surprised how soundly he had slept with such rocky motions. I didn’t sleep last night at all… He remembered. That night when he waited for Mother and Alli to come back was probably the scariest in Lond’s life. Even scarier than when he caught allergies from a bee and his throat closed up. He had slept in the basement, with ash and soot filling his lungs, praying to the gods that whatever had burned his house didn’t come back. He couldn’t take his eyes off the window as the hills rolled softly by, his hand tightening on the sack of bones. He coughed thickly and closed his eyes again.  

“That’s a bad cough.” Lond jumped at the voice and realized that the couple who had been in his wagon had left. A man sat on the seat in front of Lond. His eyes were a deep blue-- almost black-- and his mouth was covered with some sort of grey cloth that went around his neck. His long nose was thick and his black hair seemed to haven’t been cut in a few months. His eyebrows were thick, seeming to give the man a permanent scowl. Lond noticed that the man had a small bag next to his seat. Instinctively, Lond put his sack of bones closer to him. The man nodded at Lond’s potato sack, “Whose bones are those?” 

Lond couldn’t keep his mouth shut as he gaped, “...you looked?”

“I did. The carriage could’ve swerved over and you wouldn’t have woken up…” the man adjusted the cloth over his mouth, “Your voice is awful. Are you sick?” 

Lond suddenly became self-conscious of his voice. It did sound scratchy. But just who the hell was this guy? Looking into his stuff without permission? He cleared his throat, “I’m not sick.” 

            The man looked at Lond for a moment with his deep blue eyes. Lond felt something odd from the man but he seemed to have no ill intention. He sounded genuinely curious about his health. But just why did he look into Lond’s stuff? The man said, “You’re really not well. May I ask why you have those bones?” 

His Father had always told him to never talk to strangers, especially from the city. He had broken that rule a few times, going to the market to run errands and when he had gone to the Alchemy Trials. But Lond was almost a grown man, according to what his Mother had said so he thought maybe this rule just didn’t apply anymore.

            Apparently, he had stayed quiet for a long time because the man said, “You don’t have to tell me, then.”

            “I’m going to bury them.” 

            The man simply nodded, “In the city?”

            “Yes.”

            The man nodded again, “You seem a bit young to be travelling alone, is all.” 

            Lond shrugged and looked out the window. The hills were growing a bit larger and on the horizon, he saw a spine of mountains. His heart tugged when he remembered again that his family was gone. All gone. He realized he still felt tired and lethargic. 

            The man cleared his throat, “Was it someone you loved?”

            Lond gritted his teeth. The man’s voice sounded concerned and for some reason that angered him, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” There was a long moment of silence. Lond hoped that the man wanted to stop the conversation. But annoyance came back when the man spoke again, “The bones seem burnt. I cannot believe that fire is ever expected.”

“What do you want?” Lond turned to the man, tears stinging his eyes. Didn’t he see he wanted to be left alone? 

 Without a word, the man lowered the cloth that covered his mouth and it was all Lond could do not to wince. The ugliest scar Lond had ever seen covered the man’s face from the left side of his lower lip to his ear lobe. The skin cracked and stretched when the man talked, “You never see fire coming. Even if you’re playing with it.” He put the cloth back on, tying it behind his neck. Lond realized that even with the cloth you could see the scar under his left ear. The man sighed, “I don’t know what you’ve gone through. I do know that fire is nothing to take lightly. I’m sorry for that.” 

Lond tried with all of his being not to cry again. Not in front of this stranger. He felt embarrassed to realize that he didn’t want to seem weak. All his life, he’d been afraid of so many things. He was always ashamed when he couldn’t gut an animal he and his Father had hunted or whenever he couldn’t carry logs as quickly as his Father did. The look his Father gave him always told he wasn’t exactly disappointed but not proud either. Never proud. Never had it occurred to him he would now have to face everything alone. He wished he could see Father one more time or Caro or Mother or Alli. But they would never come back. What had happened? 

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He realized tears were streaming down his face. He looked quickly at the man and was relieved to see the man was looking out the window. Lond cried quietly into his hands. 

After a while, he got himself together. Sniffing he put the sack of bones at his feet. Outside, the sun seemed to be close to setting. The carriage-train had taken a bit longer than he had estimated. The sky turned into a gray-violet with streaks of orange. Suddenly, Lond felt the words rushing out of him, “All of my family is gone. Most likely. My mother and sister never came back from the market. Father and my little sister were in the house when the fire hit.” 

The man looked at Lond with his dark, blue eyes, “How did you survive?” 

That’s the question that always made the back of Lond’s head hurt. He touched the back of his head without thinking, “I… don’t know. I found myself in the basement when I woke up. The ash all came through the floorboards but I wasn’t dead… I could barely breathe.” Almost on cue, he coughed. 

“Were there any other fires?” 

“Not that I know of…” Lond shrugged, “I… I didn’t leave the house until I had to.” 

“You didn’t ask for any news?” The man seemed to be very interested, all of a sudden, “No neighbors? No friends? Maybe the town council would--”

“No.” Lond said more roughly than he intended. How could he have been so stupid? This was always like him. Never thinking things through. How could he not thought of asking anybody around to see what had happened? He could never think of good ideas when it actually mattered, “I just thought of burying my little sister, I never… I only thought about getting to the city. I have a grandfather that maybe could take me in.”

The man was clearly perplexed Lond hadn’t done the obvious thing but his voice wasn’t scolding, “Next time, you should think about it. You lost your family, that might not make you think clearly but you should look at everything that could help you. You don’t remember anything from what set the fire, though?” Lond shook his head helplessly. The man scratched his chin, “It sounds like an attack.” 

Lond looked up at the man, “An attack?” 

“It doesn’t sound natural to me…” The man leaned a bit closer, “Nothing you say points to an attack, but that sure as hell sounds like Kingsmen to me. Kingsmen have been burning farms and houses that King Dhokto deems… traitorous.”

“Father would never--”

“I never said he did,” The man seemed to be expecting that reaction. He fanned his hands downwards, as if telling Lond to keep his voice down, “But if Dhokto feelslike you might oppose him… Well, his goons willget called to action. I don’t know your circumstances but if it is Kingsmen work, then they are far from the city. Dhokto must’ve been completely convinced that something was wrong.”

“But that can’t be!” The man fanned his hands again and Lond lowered his voice, “We’ve never done anything wrong! Father’s only a hunter! He sells meat. Mother and my sisters never hurt anybody.”

Lond knew of Dhokto; he was Reshnia’s king, after all. Lond had only seen him once at an Alchemy Trial as a spectator. He had been very far away so he saw nothing but the carriage King Dhokto was brought in with the orange flag and the black snake that made an ‘S’ shape. And of course, alongside King Dhokto’s carriage was his Kingsmen standing guard. Lond knew his Father hated Kingsmen more than anything and despite the warnings that Kingsmen would come to collect their share of taxes for the last few years, they never came into Lond’s town. He knew that Dhokto was a strict king in the capitol but not where Lond lived. Never in Winda or really anywhere in the Countryside. But if what the man was saying was true...

            “You do not know what Dhokto is capable of,” The man said, “For reasons unbeknownst to me, and really to everyone in Reshnia, Dhokto’s pride and avarice hasn’t expanded beyond Reshnia. The Countryside is seldom affected by anything Dhokto does other than some tax collecting here and there.” 

            Lond began to feel confused but couldn’t help but keep his attention, “But then, what does he do that’s so bad?”

            “Your parents never told you anything?” 

            “They’ve taught us in history class. How the bloodline of Dhokto goes all the way back to Reshura of the Old Lands. But the king has never come here, ever. It’s our mayor that’s had to deal with King Dhokto’s Kingsmen, I do know that. But they never stirred trouble out here.” The man only stared at Lond, as if trying to puzzle out what he had just heard. Lond said, “Have you ever come to the country?” 

            “...Yes. In any case, what I want to tell you is that despite Dhokto’s apparent restraint on going into the country, lately he’s been a bit more... open to visit it. Which countryside are you from?”

“Winda.”

“That is far away...” The man seemed to mull it over a bit, “Well, Kingsmen have been visiting towns throughout Worker’s Road, to put it mildly. King Dhokto called it ‘patrolling the lands’. I know better. The people of the Countryside maybe don’t but I do…” The man’s hand balled into a fist, “He’s moving, inch by inch, but slowly his true colors will come out. He’s burnt down farms, for gods’ sake.”

Lond felt as lost as ever. He had ever paid attention to much news and while burning farms had been mentioned a few weeks back nobody had ever talked about Kingsmen. Was this stranger trying to feed him stories? “But why?” 

“I don’t know. Dhokto deemed it unworthy for whatever reason. In fact, we’ve passed through some of the burned farms and towns but you were sound asleep. I suspect your house was also burned down by Kingsmen.”

Could it be? Were they the ones responsible for him losing everything he loved? Kingsmen… Men Lond knew his Father despised them. But try as he might, no memory of Kingsmen appeared. The only images that came into his head were of when his family travelled to Reshnia. He turned towards the man and mustered all his courage to say, “Why should I trust you?”

            The man laughed, and loudly. Lond reddened but the man apologized, “I didn’t expect that from you. Well, I guess you can’t trust me, really. Maybe you can ask the rider up front to turn around so he can show you the farms.” Lond could tell the man was smiling behind the cloth, but he didn’t feel like returning it. The man went on, “But really. You can ask any of the cityfolk once you get to Reshnia. They’ll tell you all about the fires. My name is Hyle, by the way.” He put out a hand so that Lond could shake it. He might’ve stared at the hand too long because Hyle laughed again, “I take it you don’t talk to strangers much. Well now we aren’t. You know my name. What’s yours?”

            “Lond.” 

            “As in Londu the Conqueror?” Hyle’s eyebrows went up when Lond nodded, “A nice name. Pardon my bluntness but I didn’t expect that from country folk. It is an old name with an even older history. That comes from the Old Lands!” 

            “My parents liked to read.” Lond said tersely. 

            Hyle nodded, “I respect your parents already. Not many--not even in the city-- read.”

            They stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, the sky darkening as the minutes passed. Lond watched as Hyle stood up and lit up the cabin’s lantern and sat down to read a piece of parchment. He never took his eyes off it. Lond’s stomach grumbled and wondered just how long it would take to reach the city. Every time he touched the sack of bones by his feet, though, his appetite left. He would never see his family again. Not Father with his rambling lectures, not Mother with her loving hugs and bedtime stories, not Alli with her annoying yet good intentioned bossiness and not Caro… A mere girl of three who hadn’t developed much of a personality other than to play, eat and giggle. The carriage-train creaked, the lantern squeaked and Hyle’s parchment scratched as he scribbled notes in it. Lond felt like an empty shell, as if every beat of his heart was muffled and his thoughts were clouded. Only dread filled his heart at the prospect of reaching Reshnia and living on his own for the rest of his life.