A New Life

49th Day of Summer

767 Karloman’s Peace

Ekkehard marched through the market square with purpose, his footfalls heavy and his pace quick. Every patron who saw him hastily found a reason to get out of the way. He imagined himself through their eyes: the tyrannical bailiff on the prowl, abusive bludgeon at the ready.

The image left a bitter taste in his mouth, which he spat out and squared his jaw. Whatever he felt about his role today, it was necessary, and he would play it to perfection.

It was the hottest period of the year and Ekkehard endured the summer sun’s beating. The northerners wore loose, thin clothing as they perused the market. Laborers, farmhands, artisans, and merchants mingled as they sought refreshment at the numerous outdoor tables at inns and taverns to cool themselves. That was the northerners, however, not Ekkehard.

Ekkehard was southern-born. This northern summer was nothing like the blistering heat of the Central Region, where the sun shone brightest, honouring the final resting place of Karloman. For him, this northern heatwave was a warm spring day. He wore warmer clothing than the locals: wool trousers and a padded gambeson, open to reveal his string-drawn hemp shirt.

As he reached the small pottery stall, he stepped into its shade, Porfinn and two more of Vedast’s gang, Billung and Hjorvardr at his back. Hott, the market keeper, was busy negotiating a sale with a young, bearded man. Noticing them, the customer ended the negotiations and fled the tent.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Hott called after the man, but it was no use. He clenched his fist, bit down on his thumb, and turned to Ekkehard. “What is it this time?” he huffed.

Ekkehard ignored the slight, fearing what he might do if he allowed himself to be insulted. He examined the shelves of pottery, picked a particularly exquisite piece, and pointed at it. “This one.” His three escorts obeyed, taking the vase along with another half-dozen pieces.

“What are you doing?” Hott called out. “Stop, those are paid for!” Ekkehard grabbed Hott by the scruff of his summer toga.

“You’ve missed your payment again, Hott,” Ekkehard said calmly.

“I’m only a day late, and no one has come by for the coin yet,” Hott protested.

“You know the new system,” Ekkehard retorted. “You come to us with payment when it’s due. If we have to find you, there are consequences.” He released Hott, pushing him back. By the time he finished talking, the three men had already gathered the goods and left.

“Just wait one moment,” Hott said, scrambling around his stall, hands trembling. “I may have the funds on me.”

Ekkehard grabbed Hott by the shoulder and spun him around. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t admit the only reason I’m here is because you’ve been too damn idle.” Hott cast his gaze down, unable to look Ekkehard in the eye. Ekkehard sighed. Hott wasn’t a bad person, just frustratingly useless. He began to loosen his grip on the man.

Isn’t this the man’s predatory style? Ekkehard thought. Theatricalizing his ineptitude to garner sympathy, which he then exploits. He was trying to make a fool of Ekkehard.

“Tell me, Hott,” Ekkehard said, towering over him and gripping him tighter, “do you think I’m some sort of idiot?”

“What?” Hott asked.

“A fool, a jester, some sort of funny man, perhaps?”

“No, I don’t. You seem quite serious to me,” Hott replied.

“Then tell me,” Ekkehard continued, “why exactly do you think you can take the piss so presumptuously?”

“I, I,” Hott stammered, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why are you the only person I’ve had to chase for payments this season?” Ekkehard asked, leaning further over Hott, making him slink and cower. “Are you too good to make your way to Vedast’s house and pay him? You came crawling to him for this loan, but now you have your stall, you’re too high and mighty to grace his shop with your presence? Is that what you think?”

“No, not at all,” Hott quavered.

“Good,” Ekkehard said, stepping back and finally releasing him. “You won’t miss another payment,” he demanded calmly.

“Yes,” was all Hott said as Ekkehard made his leave. He stopped at the edge of the stall, his conscience tugging at him. Hott was a leech, but he was just a man trying to get by. This isn’t how a godly man behaves, Ekkehard thought of himself.

“If you bring payment in time, you can have your pots back.”

“Vases,” Hott mumbled.

“Don’t fucking correct me,” Ekkehard growled, shaking his head in disbelief as he left.

As Ekkehard returned to the market streets, Emich fell in beside him, seamlessly appearing from the shadows. Ekkehard had ordered him to be ready to cut off Hott’s escape if needed. They walked more calmly now, blending into the natural ebb and flow of the market crowd. Over the bustling sounds, Ekkehard heard a distinctive hoot mixed with a fluttering noise. His eyes darted around the sky, searching for the owl he was certain he had heard. There was no sign of it. He had heard the bird’s call several times over the last season, but could never lay eyes upon the dam thing.

Disappointed, he headed home.

As they walked toward Vedast’s home, Ekkehard spotted his wife leaving the butcher’s shop. The two brutish men assigned to watch the door bowed their heads respectfully as she passed. She smiled, waved, and walked toward him. They met before the mouth of an alleyway separating Vedast’s home from his neighbour, Ekkehard’s eyes drifted down it. Hidden in the shadows, three young boys encircled a young girl leaning helplessly against the wall. One of the boys had his hand beneath her shirt. Ekkehard recognized the girl. It was his younger sister, Gisla.

“Hey!” Ekkehard barked, turning from Auriana and marching toward the scene. The boys were startled and jumped back before fleeing down the alley and out of sight. Ekkehard ran to Gisla, his face flushed, and fists clenched.

“Are you okay?” he asked, preparing to give chase.

“I’m fine,” Gisla huffed.

“Was that the baker's boy?” Ekkehard asked, referring to a young apprentice he had seen lingering around her before.

“No,” Gisla said, strutting away from her brother and back to Vedast’s house. “He doesn’t get me off till after sundown.”

“What did you say?” Ekkehard demanded, wheeling on Gisla, who ignored him and kept walking. He was torn between chasing the young men or his sister, shocked to hear her say such a thing.

“I said he doesn’t get off until sundown,” Gisla repeated as she pushed open the door to the butcher’s shop and disappeared inside. What’s wrong with her? Ekkehard thought, starting after his little sister.

“Let it go,” Auriana said, placing a hand on his shoulder and halting him.

“Did you hear what she said to me?” Ekkehard shot back.

“Yes, I did,” Auriana replied, her voice measured.

“What is she playing at?” Ekkehard asked. “Does she even recognize the danger she was just in?”

“Oh, I think she recognized exactly what was happening,” Auriana answered calmly.

“Don’t make light of this,” Ekkehard said, stepping up to his wife. “The city boys can be dangerous.”

“Trust me, Ekkehard,” Auriana said, placing a hand on his chest. “The young men of this city know exactly who your sister is and exactly who her family is. She is the danger, not them.”

“What are you saying?” Ekkehard asked, wondering if his wife was suggesting his sister was impure. Had he failed in another duty to his family?

“How did your grandfather put it to your brother?” Auriana mused aloud. “It’s the family head’s duty to find the family women a man before a man finds them. She’s of that age. You really ought to be finding her a husband.”

“You’re right,” Ekkehard said, nodding. He suspected his interpretation of the words was not what Auriana intended, but she was right. He had been negligent in that duty. “I’ll get on that,” he said, turning to head into the butcher’s shop.

“Do you want me to find out who they were, boss?” Emich asked, standing a respectful distance from the couple.

“No, he doesn’t,” Auriana answered for him, turning to smile at Emich. Then she turned back to Ekkehard, still smiling but with eyes commanding him to drop the issue.

Ekkehard smiled and let out a small laugh. “You heard the lady,” he said to Emich. He stepped up to his wife, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. “My darling wife, where would I be without your sage guidance?” He pulled her in for an embrace and over her shoulder signalled Emich to follow the boys. Emich nodded and disappeared into the background.

Ekkehard stepped back and looked down at the small swell of her belly, barely noticeable beneath her yellow summer dress. Placing a hand on her stomach, he looked into her eyes, beaming. “And how is my boy today?” he asked.

“She,” Auriana emphasized, “is starting to kick. Quite the wriggler. She’ll be a handful when she’s here.”

“A wriggler, you say?” Ekkehard repeated, leaning down to examine her belly. “Sounds like a strapping young lad to me.”

“We’ll see,” Auriana said giggling.

“Have you spoken with Vedast yet?” Auriana asked.

“No,” he answered honestly, then lied, “I was just on my way.” Auriana had been pushing him to discuss a loan for Vedast for many days now. He really didn’t want to have that conversation, but Auriana was insistent.

“Good,” Auriana said. “I’m off to the market, but tell me all about it when I get back?”

“I will,” Ekkehard said, pushing his messy hair back, avoiding her gaze. She took his face in her hands, drawing him to her.

“This is how we get that new life you’re always talking about,” she told him.

“I know,” he sighed. She kissed him goodbye before heading up the road to the markets. Ekkehard made his way into Vedast’s house.

His first stop was the study. The room had been significantly rearranged. Bookshelves had been moved to one corner, creating a backdrop for one of the writing desks, which served as Florentin’s post. The other two desks had been relocated to the far end, both facing Florentin.

Florentin looked up from his parchment-covered desk and nodded, gesturing toward one of the desks. Ekkehard knew his brother made Vedast’s other enforcers sit at those desks, a juvenile and demeaning attempt to force an air of authority. Instead of taking a seat, Ekkehard remained standing, and leant against one of the bookshelves behind Florentin.

Florentin was forced to look back over his shoulder. “How did it go?” he asked.

“Fine,” Ekkehard said curtly.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Did you recover the funds?”

“Pottery,” Ekkehard answered, hearing the frustration in his brother’s sigh.

“We will arrange the sale then,” Florentin said.

“Don’t,” Ekkehard replied. Florentin sat up straight, turning his chair to face Ekkehard directly.

“Explain,” Florentin demanded, trying to mimic Ekkehard’s understated approach. It didn’t frustrate Ekkehard as it had Florentin, but it required him to be more forthcoming.

“I told him he could have it back if he paid quickly,” Ekkehard said. “He’ll be around later today or tomorrow. We needn’t waste time looking for buyers.”

“I didn’t authorize such an arrangement,” Florentin replied.

That irritated Ekkehard. The notion that he needed his younger brother’s authorization irked him. His knuckles cracked repeatedly as he formed and unformed a fist.

“I authorized it,” Ekkehard said, not looking at Florentin.

“That’s not how this works,” Florentin argued. Ekkehard glared at his brother out of the corner of his eye. He had been annoyed when Vedast appointed Florentin as Master of Coin. Worse, but Florentin was so good at the job that Vedast had delegated almost all supervisory duties over the loans business to him. This inflating Florentin’s ego and was making him almost unbearable to work with.

“Regardless of how you think it works,” Ekkehard said through gritted teeth, “you will respect and abide by my decision. Our family’s word is binding, and people know that.”

“This has nothing to do with our family,” Florentin replied with a shrug. “My job is to maintain Vedast’s business, not manage your sense of honour.” Ekkehard stepped up to him and Florentin's back rose as he sat a little higher in his chair.

“Be careful, little brother,” Ekkehard said softly. “There are dangerous men in Vedast’s business. If you talk to them as you do to me, you might find out just how dangerous. When that happens, you’d best hope you still have some brothers to watch your back.”

“There is no need to take offense, Ekkehard,” Florentin replied, shaking his head slightly and failing to hold Ekkehard’s gaze.

Florentin suddenly looked meeker, his façade of authority cracking. Ekkehard realized that Florentin's arrogance stemmed from the confidence Vedast had placed in him, a fact well-known and respected by most of Vedast's gang. However, Ekkehard was certain that, when it came down to it, Vedast respected him more than his younger brother. After all, Vedast was a man of traditional values, even if he was a crime lord. Ekkehard stepped back and shrugged at Florentin, savouring the confusion in his brother’s eyes.

“Vedast has always been happy with the way I do things,” Ekkehard said as he made to leave the room. “If you're unhappy, take it up with him, but you’ll abide by my agreement.” Before Florentin could protest, Ekkehard vanished into the maze of Vedast’s home.

The hearty scent of a rich blend of earthy, sweet aromas drew Ekkehard to the kitchen. Svanhildr was busy with her household duties. Pots, pans, cutting boards, and utensils covered various surfaces while animal carcasses, bundles of herbs, and large vegetables hung from hooks and racks around the kitchen. Sacks and crates of supplies were piled in the corners.

Ekkehard took a deep breath, savouring the smell of fresh food, trying to let go of the disagreement with Florentin. “What is that?” he asked, drawing Svanhildr’s attention.

“Hello, Ekkehard,” she greeted him and indicated toward a cauldron. “I suspect you mean Pyra’s stew. All out, I’m afraid. She and Audomar are finishing it off in the other room.”

“All out, you say,” Ekkehard repeated, genuinely disappointed. His stomach groaned. “Shame, it smells delicious.”

“Apologies,” Svanhildr said with a soft smile, then sighed. “I have some salted meats. I could boil them and offer you bread and oil? Perhaps some wine to go along with it.”

“That would be most welcome,” Ekkehard said, bowing his head to her. She bowed back.

“Go take a seat,” she instructed. “I’ll bring out a board for you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Ekkehard said, expressing his gratitude. Remembering that his elder brother Audomar would be dining in the reception room, he braced himself. From one problematic brother to the other, he thought.

He entered the reception room and took a seat on one of the cushions surrounding the low table. To his right, Audomar and Pyra were dining on a fine-smelling stew that Pyra had made. Audomar looked far better these days. His hair and beard were trimmed, and he had stopped his excessive drinking. Though it had done little to mend their relationship, he kept his head low, eyes focused on the stew, not looking up at Ekkehard. Pyra, however, sat upright, occasionally glancing at Audomar.

“Brother,” Ekkehard said.

“Ekkehard,” Audomar replied softly, barely raising his head. Pyra placed her bowl of stew gently on the table and looked awkwardly between the two brothers. She, like the rest of the household, was aware of the strain between them. That saddened Ekkehard. Audomar’s overindulgences had only added to Ekkehard’s recent burdens, and he resented his brother for that. Yet, he also missed him and smiled privately, happy to see his brother in a more collected state.

“How goes the training?” Ekkehard asked after a few moments of silence.

Audomar put down his nearly empty bowl and raised his head to look at Ekkehard. Ekkehard felt a shiver of anticipation, having become more accustomed to his brother’s focus being followed by drunken assaults.

“Well,” Audomar answered clearly and turned back to his supper. A sense of relief lowered Ekkehard’s shoulders.

“Good, good,” Ekkehard said. Not wanting the conversation to end so soon, he asked, “Any promise?”

Audomar raised his head again, contemplating. “Some,” he said. “Most will never be more than middling, but one or two of Vedast’s men might achieve some semblance of greatness. They won’t be legends, but they’ll command respect in this city when I'm done with them.”

“That’s good.”

When it became clear that Audomar wasn’t suited for enforcement, his temper making him too heavy-handed, Vedast placed him in charge of training his men in military practices. It suited Audomar’s demeanour and bolstered Vedast’s gang’s authority in the city. Ekkehard was about to ask for more details when Audomar cut him off.

“A few of them will make good officers,” he stated, “good enough to train the rest after I leave.”

“You’re going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Audomar confirmed. “Once I repay our debt to Vedast, I intend to return home.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ekkehard interjected. “You’ll be killed the moment anyone recognizes you.”

“No one will recognize me. No one will even know I am there.”

“But why?” Ekkehard asked, his voice desperate. “Why go back?”

Audomar took a moment to think and chose his next words carefully. “You have a child on the way. Gerwald and Florentin both have jobs, and Gisla is growing up quickly. I have done my job. I have gotten you all to safety. I have done what I needed to do for the living. Now I must see to the dead.”

“You’re going after Hanib,” Ekkehard stated, shaking his head. “That is madness. You can’t do that, least of all alone.”

“Hanib imagines himself to be in no danger,” Audomar argued. “He has long forgotten us.”

“We killed his son.”

“But he thinks us dead,” Audomar stated. “And I will use that to my advantage.”

“You will be killed.”

“Yes,” Audomar replied matter-of-factly. “I will avenge our family before I am reunited with my wife and daughter. As it should be.”

Ekkehard was ready to argue further when another sibling burst into the room. Gerwald, flustered and red-faced with a large wet patch of sweat around his collar, stood wide-eyed at the foot of the table.

“Hi,” Gerwald said through laboured breaths, looking directly at Pyra, who stared back with a startled expression. Then, as if only just noticing them, he greeted his brothers. “Ekkehard, Audomar.”

“Brother,” Ekkehard said, nodding to Gerwald. He dropped his conversation with Audomar to avoid panicking Gerwald. He would resume the debate with his elder brother another time.

“What are you doing here?” Pyra asked hesitantly. “Is something wrong at the masons?”

“What?” Gerwald asked, then shook his head. “No, nothing wrong. Great, in fact. Love the place. But you said this morning you were making stew for lunch, so when they offered me a break, I ran here. Didn’t want to miss out.” Ekkehard raised an eyebrow. The masons were two districts away; he had run miles.

“Oh,” Pyra said, a touch of unease in her tone. “I’m sorry, Gerwald. I didn’t know you were going to do that. I only made enough for Audomar and me.” She indicated the empty bowl Audomar had just placed on the table.

“Oh, right,” Gerwald said, his face turning even redder with embarrassment. He looked around the room as if lost. Ekkehard wondered if his little brother had noticed that Pyra’s affections had moved on from him. Her infatuation with Audomar had become obvious to all but Gerwald, it seemed. His little brother’s obsession with Pyra had blinded him to that fact. Ekkehard’s stomach twinged in sympathy for the boy, or perhaps he was just hungry.

“I’d better get back to the men,” Audomar said, rising. “Thank you for the stew,” he said to Pyra and made to leave. As he passed Gerwald, he placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and patted it. As Audomar exited, Svanhildr entered, carrying a wooden board of boiled meat, bread, and oil.

“Oh, Gerwald,” she said, noticing the youngest brother standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “When did you get here?”

“Just,” Ekkehard answered for his brother, sure that embarrassment still held his tongue.

“Well, you look a mess, but I suppose you’re hungry. I’ll put together another board.” There was a hint of exasperation in her tone.

Ekkehard rose, shaking his head. “He can have mine,” Ekkehard said. “I’ll find Auriana after I’ve spoken with your husband, and we’ll eat at an inn.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Svanhildr said, handing the board of food to Gerwald. His expression wasn’t quite a smile, but he tried, the awkwardness screwing his face a little. Ekkehard gestured to his brother to take a seat and then followed Svanhildr out of the room, leaving Gerwald and Pyra alone. He might as well give his brother a chance. After all, Gerwald was the only sibling who seemed to like him these days.

Ekkehard made his way through the house to Vedast’s private office. As he entered, the windowless room felt different, somehow warmer, more welcoming. He was surprised to find Vedast alone; Alfa, his bodyguard, was unusually absent. Vedast wasn’t seated at his desk but stood over it, fiddling excitedly with a large crate. Ekkehard coughed to draw his attention.

“Ah, Ekkehard,” Vedast beamed, coming around the desk to greet him. “Come in, come in,” he said, warmly squeezing Ekkehard’s hand before gesturing toward the low table. Both men sat on pillows opposite each other and Vedast poured them each a cup of wine.

“Thank you,” Ekkehard said, taking the clay cup and sipping the rich scarlet elixir. Since Florentin took over most of Vedast’s business arrangements, their discussions had become more personal and friendly. They no longer spoke across an employer’s desk but as equals at the table.

“How are you, my friend?” Vedast asked.

“Well enough,” Ekkehard said, his tone slightly strained.

“You don’t sound it,” Vedast observed.

“Just continuing to regret your decision to promote Florentin, that’s all,” Ekkehard explained.

Vedast chuckled. “Well, you’re the only one who feels that way.” Seeing Ekkehard’s lack of levity, he expanded, “He has a knack for this. We have never been so organized or profitable. Honestly, I’m even thinking about retiring and leaving the whole operation to him.”

“We both know you’re more ambitious than that,” Ekkehard said slyly.

Vedast’s broad grin betrayed his false humility. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

Ekkehard had wondered what Vedast spent his days doing now. He was a butcher by trade but had enough staff that he never really needed to be in the cutting room. Florentin managed his criminal enterprise. Yet, the man always appeared busy with something.

“He might be good at it, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an arse,” Ekkehard said, leaning back and downing his cup of wine. Vedast refilled his cup.

Vedast sighed sympathetically. “Ekkehard, I’m beginning to worry you might feud with all your brothers before the year is out.”

“Can you blame me?” Ekkehard replied.

“Yes,” Vedast answered seriously. “You have a very good and capable family. You shouldn’t chastise Florentin for excelling, and you need to be more forgiving of your elder, Audomar.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Ekkehard replied. He wanted to restore his relationship with Audomar, but it was hard not to hold a grudge against a man who had drunkenly swung at him every other day for an entire season and was now talking of abandoning him. He wondered if Vedast already knew of Audomar’s plans.

“No, it isn’t,” Vedast argued. “I have a brother too; I understand these things.”

“Well, your brother didn’t spend all of spring embarrassing you in every tavern in the city,” Ekkehard retorted.

“Firstly,” Vedast began, “Dreux embarrasses me every day. Secondly, your brother was grieving, as were you. He is doing much better now, as are you. Perhaps it is time to bury that hatchet?”

“I just…” Ekkehard began but wasn’t sure what to say.

He had no counterargument. He knew Audomar had struggled. They all had. Ekkehard clenched his fist, threatening to break the small clay cup as he thought of Audomar’s selfishness. His brother hadn’t once apologized for the burden he had been or how useless he had been in winter when they said goodbye to so many family members. Ekkehard released the cup the moment before it shattered. Perhaps wanting Audomar to apologize was also a selfish desire. Audomar had been so lost, he likely he hadn’t seen the difficulties he caused. Was it fair to blame a grieving man?

Vedast was probably right. Ekkehard should let go of the past. Maybe he would find some time to sit with his brother and hash things out but not today. Other concerns needed addressing.

“Never mind,” Ekkehard said, keeping his thoughts to himself. “That isn’t why I’m here.”

“Oh, there is something you need?” Vedast exclaimed, sitting back.

“Yes,” Ekkehard said with some trepidation. It was time to address the matter Auriana had been pushing for days, even if he didn’t want to.

“Business or personal?” Vedast asked.

“Both,” Ekkehard answered.

“Go on,” Vedast invited.

Ekkehard inhaled, readying himself for the embarrassment of his request. “Auriana has found a place on the outskirts of the Market Sector. Above a seamstress’s workshop. She wants us to move there.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Vedast commented. “You have a newborn on the way. You’ll need a place of your own. Never expected you to stay here forever.”

“Agreed,” Ekkehard replied. “The problem is the landlady wants a year’s rent upfront. She doesn’t trust our kind. We don’t have that kind of coin right now.”

“Then why not look elsewhere?” Vedast questioned.

“Because Auriana is besotted with the place, and I want to make her happy.”

“Of course,” Vedast said, nodding. “I fully understand. I have made many poor financial decisions to please my dear wife. Having a daughter springs to mind.” The two men laughed. “So, how can I help?”

“Auriana wants us to take a loan,” Ekkehard explained, hating every word. “She hoped you could provide the funds upfront, and we would repay you over the year.”

“Nonsense,” Vedast said. Ekkehard was taken aback. He had hated asking a friend for money but hadn’t expected an outright rejection. Vedast was a loan shark; why would he distrust Ekkehard’s ability to repay?

“I shall give you the funds,” Vedast continued. “My gift to you, in honour of your soon-to-be-born child.”

Ekkehard felt a wave of mixed emotions. He was touched by Vedast’s generosity but shamed by the idea of charity. Vedast had already done so much for his family. He couldn’t live with that debt hanging over him. “No. It must be a loan. You’ve done too much already. You must allow me to repay this, for my honour’s sake.”

“Fine,” Vedast replied. “I can respect that. We’ll do it in the noble manner, with no interest.” That was a notion Ekkehard could accept, and he nodded his appreciation. They drank to the agreement, and Vedast poured them fresh cups. After a few moments, the awkwardness became too much for Ekkehard, and he tried to change the subject.

“What is that?” Ekkehard asked, indicating the crate on Vedast’s desk.

“Ah!” Vedast exclaimed with excitement, getting to his feet and ushering Ekkehard to follow. “My latest prize,” he said as they both made their way around the desk to gaze into the box. Inside, nestled in straw, were the disassembled components of a strange and bulky crossbow.

“Is that a repeater?” Ekkehard asked.

“Yes!” Vedast replied with joy. “Have you ever used one?”

“No,” Ekkehard said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen them used though, by the royal guard during the war. Fancy bit of kit. With proper training, you can fire as many as ten bolts in a minute with one of them.”

“I know,” Vedast replied, pulling out parts and examining the craftsmanship. “A veteran I know told me about them. Ever since, I’ve wanted one. Now I have one.”

“A fine weapon,” Ekkehard concluded. “And expensive. They’re hard to make, and even the imperial army only has so many.”

Vedast put the components back into the crate and lifted it off the table. “Come,” he instructed. “Let’s try it out in the garden.”