Syrus rarely saw his adopted father as happy as this. While he seemed to be just as in his element guarding the keep as he did this caravan, he almost never had a chance to leave the city anymore, except when he took Syrus to hunt, teaching him how to find, kill, and skin small game. It seemed traveling was just what James needed, and Syrus took heart from the cheerfulness he quietly exuded, though the others likely would not be able to notice the difference in his demeanor, as James kept himself controlled, rarely showing emotion. Syrus could tell by the way he talked, his voice sounded lighter than normal, and he showed his teeth more often the few times he did talk. Travel seemed to suit him well, and he hoped it lasted as long as possible, as, privately, Syrus thought that James deserved it.

They had travelled for a few hours now, cart drivers plodding along placidly, farms and fields passing them by, Davus chattering away with one of his workers from the side of one of his carts. He had brought two of his employees with him to help set up camp each night and manage the dyes. These travelled in the carts, talking amicably with the cart drivers or Davus and his son, while others excluding James walked.

Soon they had left the farmland behind, the path continued through forested hills and meandered past small streams, offshoots from the three small mountains known as the ‘three brothers’ directly southwest of Jeim, the tallest of which had its own lake, according to James. North and west they walked, and soon they had travelled further than Syrus had ever been from the city, at least, in his memory. Davus and James each had a map, and though James’s was much older, it was heavily detailed, crossed with many lines denoting things such as elevation and forestation, but he never saw James study it, as Davus had his own several times already. James had a working memory of the lands around the city, and he called Syrus up to the front of the caravan to show him what landmarks to look for. A strangely twisted tree, a large boulder, a rocky stream, these things all told the experienced traveler where he was, and if he lost his way he need only find them again. He had already taught Syrus how to properly use a map and compass. He could triangulate his own position on a map using nearby landmarks and a simple string, from there he could shoot his own azimuth and estimate distance, eventually leading him to wherever he needed to go. Though there was only one path to Halstop, James had him check his own compass regularly, saying that always knowing which direction he was heading was essential, and that the sun could be used in a pinch, but would not lead him anywhere near as accurately.

 Besides lecturing him on finding his way, James also talked of his duties and how to perform them on the road. He did all of this while scanning the woods around them, now that they had left the city's farmlands behind, where one could see in any direction for myles. occasionally glancing back to check the rear, though he had set one of the bar-thumpers to keep watch, he seemed to always be aware of what was around him. Syrus found himself emulating him, trying to take in as much information as he could. There had frequently been talk in the markets of people being waylaid on the road, robbed by men armed with spiked cudgels or axes, or men with bows. The baron did not often send men out, for it was exceedingly difficult to find those who did not want to be found in these rolling hills and woods, but any time a citizen was killed, which was rare, the Baron himself, with James by his side, would lead large portions of the guard out in search of the murderers. Sometimes he returned dragging a body or two behind the horses of the guards, to be hung in the square. This seemed to send a message to any would be law breakers, as often, half a year or more would go by before reports of banditry in the area would pick up again. It was a strange game that the lawless played with the lawful, where they would rob and loot and occasionally rape, knowing that they were mostly safe as long as they avoided armed patrols, but as soon as they crossed that invisible line, taking the life of one peasant or another, the Baron would strike back, attempting to purge those who preyed on the weak from his lands. Syrus knew he was too young to judge those who would turn to robbing others for their possessions, who knew where the many years of his life would take him? What might he have to do to survive one day? No, I’ll be captain of the guard one day, like James. I won’t stoop to that level. He berated himself, shaking away momentarily dark thoughts. There was no reason to worry about ever being penniless and hungry, he convinced himself. Fighting was a useful skill, and he had it, along with a large quantity of knowledge pertaining to the subject. He would not go hungry one day, no matter what changed in the world.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, eventually leading them to a clearing, about twenty five myles away from Jeim, with a further hundred to go before they reached Halstop. A man on foot could reach Halstop in a week, a man on a horse could reach it in three days if he pushed his horse. Six days to arrive in Halstop was good time, and everyone knew it and seemed proud of their hard work, as they gathered around their lone campfire. They had set one of the water barrels up on the bench attached to one of the carts, lashed oilcloth over the provisions and travelsacks, and laid their bedrolls around the fire, eating hard bread and dried meat made for travel to hold them over until work had finished for the night. The guards did not help with these tasks, instead setting out their bedrolls, then, on orders from James, branched out in pairs of two to scout the woods around their camp.

James had told them what to look for, explained the subtle signs watchers might have left, how to find them and where to look, and while most looked uncertain, James seemed unconcerned as he took Syrus with him to do the same. “I don’t expect anyone to be out here this close to Jeim, fact is, we’re not likely to see or hear any signs of banditry until we’ve passed Halstop, but I want them to get used to checking every night, I might find a time in one of the next few days to leave a false trail for them to find, see how well they can be trusted.” Syrus nodded his head mutely, considering the logic behind James’s actions and, unable to find any flaws, stuck to resolutely scanning the surrounding woods as his father was, each with bow in hand, lest they startle up some game and find their bellies full on something other than the hard travel food he had eaten not half an hour before.

Markus had been the only man among the seven total guards hired to be given an extra task, one he seemed to relish, he was sent out with one other guard, and told that if he could find any game, he had the Baron’s permission to hunt it and bring it back to camp. This would normally be illegal for anything larger than a hare, as the baron did not allow poaching in his territory to keep his forests well stocked. Jeim had given them permission to feed themselves off the land, an opportunity James and Markus both seemed to have full intention to take advantage of. This worked out well for them, as when Syrus returned to the camp thirty minutes later, Markus had just strolled into camp, clutching a turkey with an arrow through its chest and wearing a big smile. The turkey was gutted, stripped of its feathers, seasoned from Davus’s personal salt bag, and spitted by one of the workers over the fire. It was delicious, and Davus seemed to take this meal as yet another omen that the trip would be profitable, a sign of great things to come, which he loudly proclaimed over a greasy turkey leg.

Syrus had learned the names of all of the other Guards, Konnor being the most noticeable among them as the man who had cuffed Syrus in the street, though the man still seemed not to really notice him, showing no sign of his former anger. Though he was less friendly than the others, more sullen, he still seemed happy to join in the feast of turkey, and took his shift of watch duties from James amicably. Though less so when he had learned that there would be no fire to keep him comfortable throughout the hour that he would be awake, “it’s a beacon for bandits, it tells everyone within a few myles of us where we are, and it destroys your night vision. If we had more men it would be fine, but with just this number? No.” James shook his head “no fire.”

James had Syrus stand watch with him that night, not trusting him yet to watch on his own, but speaking to him in a low voice, each watching a different direction, and taught him what to look for, what he should search for with his ears, when it was dark and his eyes were not to be trusted, and what he should do, should anything seem amiss. “Always trust your gut” he said, in a low voice that did not carry. “If something seems wrong, it is. If you get a strange feeling about something, anything at all, you wake me up.” Syrus voiced his assent, and asked “and if we are attacked?” James took his gaze off the forest to eye him for a moment, before returning to his watch. “You are to yell as loud as you can, and then you are to fall back to the carts, and wait for an opportunity to escape if it seems we will not hold. You will fight only to defend yourself, and run to the forest as soon as circumstances allow. Then go back to the city and report to the Baron.” He looked at Syrus again, harder this time, “do you understand?” Syrus gulped, suddenly nervous, he wants me to abandon them? But he only nodded, and, when that did not seem enough, responded with a “yes sir.” He hoped that no sign of weakness had shone in his voice, and, besides, he thought to himself,

Who could beat James?