Lord Johannes begins to march on the County of Langres to take back an object of great power to his people, but he and his men quickly find themselves refused at the gates of Harnay, the first city on the road to the capital city. Hoping to avoid a long siege, he sends a mix of soldiers and the faithful in his ranks to clinch a quick and easy peace to move along safely. But a tragic turn of events not only destroys those hopes, it leaves a member of the Leopards with a critical and most likely fatal wound.
And on the outskirts of Nou-Par, a boat carrying an anonymous traveler slowly moves down the Sayne river...
The once silent and unnerving forests of the Zchwarwoud were filled by the sound of marching feet, pounding hooves, and the occasional barking of orders. Nearly one and a half thousand were foot soldiers with eighteen hundred on horse, either going ahead to scout or moving with the rest of their army. And that was before one counted the extra horses and men that cared for the twenty cannon that Lord Johannes had gathered to begin his march on the County of Langres. It was not the most impressive force the easterners of Haikk Five could muster, but it certainly was quite a spectacle. Towards the front however, the Leopards had more simple concerns at the forefront of their minds.
"Bloody saddle," Hawke grumbled. "My arse is numb."
"For Thrones sake, I told you to buy a blanket!"
"Davie, you know damn well I'd have just stolen one from the inn."
"And you be a right prick for doing that, but at least you wouldn't be complaining about your damn arse!"
"How come the rest of you aren't complaining?"
The other Anglois Guardsmen had followed their old serjeants advice, leaving only the former thief and their attached Sister of Battle in discomfort.
"At least you are on a horse," Evita responded with a hint of bitterness.
"I can ask one of those cart drivers to give you a ride Eve," Parky said in concern.
"No," she quickly responded, filled with sudden vigor and ignoring the admittedly slight pain in her feet. "I am fit to bear this burden. Thank you Parky."
"Are we even going the right way?"
"Hawke," Bob groaned with disapproval.
The road was wide enough that all types of horsemen, coustillier, armed bowmen, and knight alike, could ride up and down alongside the army. Sir Erwan rode up next to them, mounted on a steed that was more impressive in look and ability than anything the others could get. For all their faults, the Konstantins understood hierarchy and its benefits.
"Gentlemen. Sister. I take it all is well?"
"Guardsman Hawke is a bit saddle-sore, but otherwise, all fine sir."
"Good to hear. I will try to find out if any of our hosts are willing to spare any blankets or accoutrements to help you Hawke. At our current pace, we will reach the city of Langres in a few days, give or take. That of course does not account for pauses in the baggage train or artillery, and if no one comes to engage us on the field."
"Sounds good sir," Davie responded. "Hopefully this silly campaign will be over soon and we can start looking for Rog."
"We will have to see. Unfortunately, our best bet to getting anywhere close to figuring out what happened is following Johannes west."
They all nodded as Erwan rode towards the front of the line. Hawke snorted and hocked a gob of phlegm at the ground.
"Bloody knights."
"He's not that bad," Parky argued. "Actually, he's fairly nice."
"Complete weirdo. Refuses to go out with us to pubs or dinner, hell, we can't get him to bathe with us. What, is he worried that we'll see something we never have?"
"Maybe he just likes privacy?"
"I can understand that," Evita sighed.
Davie grunted and swung to look back at the rest of the Leopards.
"He's our commander as long as Rog isn't here. And you're gonna treat that Vretan with as much respect as you would give him."
"Aye," Bob agreed.
"Davie, where did you learn Vretan?"
"Well Sister, I wasn't always a soldier, despite what me scars and wrinkles tell you. Actually, fighting for pay was the last way of living I had in mind. Used to sail a lot, fishing or trading, and Vretans were the best to do it on Anglerre."
"Except for the Sinks"
"I'd rank them about the same Bob, but I understand your bias."
"Sinks?" Evita asked in confusion.
"Cinque ports," Parky answered. "The five oldest ports on Avalon and the biggest traders there. They have special rights and privileges granted by the King himself!"
"Interesting. You were saying Davie?"
"Well, I learned Vretan from the sailors, bit by bit. Started out with the basics, hello, goodbye-"
"Followed by questions?"
Davie chuckled.
"Insults actually. Soon as I learned how to greet someone, I learned how to call their mother a whore, among other things."
"Ah," she replied disappointedly.
"Then it was how to pick up drinks, food… mothers of ill-repute. I learned more than a bit during those voyages to the land of ar Gwenn ha Du."
"Gwenn ha what?"
"Black and white, Hawke. Colors on their flag, practically part of their identity. It's why Sir Erwan has a big white flower on his jupon."
"Makes sense I guess."
The group moved quietly down the road, the sound of clanking armor and snorting horses filling the void. Davie looked back and ahead, shaking his head.
"Certainly not like us on the move."
"How so?" Evita inquired.
"No singing. Every time an Anglois army marched, there was at least a few songs, if not dozens."
"Maybe they are not in the mood?"
"Or they have no interest."
The serjeant sniffed, facing forward. Then, after a few moments of silence, he grabbed at a pouch on the side of his horse.
"Throne, please no," Hawke moaned.
"Go for it sarge!" Parky approved.
He unwrapped the pouch and revealed his pride and joy: a compact lute. He strummed it a few times and began to play. While no one sang, the instrument certainly was appreciated by the nervous and tiring soldiers around them. Even Erwan approved, promising the serjeant to sing one of the old songs from home when they made camp that day.
Johannes, equipped in his finest gear that included a golden lion atop his sallet helmet, lifted his visor and observed the closed gate of Harnay. He sighed in the realization that his campaign would have to begin with a siege, taking an offered spyglass from Jean Pocourt.
"Looks shut tight, my lord."
"That it does my friend. What ugly heraldry!"
Pocourt squinted at the fluttering banner above the gates door, three red towers over a green field. Next to it flew a tricolor of blue-white-blue, a bishop mitre in the middle above a staff and sword.
"The one of Langres, my lord?"
"Harnay. Green is a terrible choice for any flag in my opinion."
Rene Vaudmonts mature face gained more wrinkles in response.
"Vexillology is the least of our concerns. If we cannot get past this town, our entire rear will be under threat as we push further into the county. Who is in charge there?"
"A vicar, I believe. Council of course runs everything, but he is the figurehead. I think we should try to talk them into surrender, or at least to stay out of the fight. Either way, we should camp here for the night. Worst case scenario, we get the cannons ready to fire in the morning."
"Should we prepare ladders and such? It will take-"
"Blow the walls down and charge the breach. Not very nice, but quick."
"Understood my lord."
A few hours later, as the twin suns of Haikk lowered towards the horizon, Erwan Kerhoued sat in the tent that he purchased to provide field lodgings for the Leopards. But inside, it was only the Vretan knight and the only non-Guard member still in the unit.
"Parky told me you are… less than enthusiastic about all this."
"Yes sir," Evita replied nervously. "It is one thing to fight rebels and heretics, but another to fight servants of the Emperor."
"Roger seemed fairly certain that the Church in this system was corrupt and rotted from the inside. I would not believe that you taking action to restore the faith to its rightful place would be something that could-"
"Forgive me, but the layman's understanding of the Church and its inner workings is different from my view and knowledge."
"Of course. So you will not raise arms in this campaign?"
"I would prefer not to."
The knight's mind was torn in response. On the one hand, he was losing a massive advantage, literally and metaphorically, able to crush anyone who stood before the Leopards with the thunder of a Heavy Bolter. However, even he felt a bit weary at the idea of engaging fellow Imperials whose only crime was standing against the army he and the rest of the Anglois had found themselves joining.
"Well, for the time being, I know the companies have priests or something similar. If you wish to be ours, I am sure the men would appreciate it. And it never hurts ensuring our souls to a woman like you."
"Woman like me, sir?"
"A Sororitas. I apologize if I insinuated anything-"
"I know you do not like me."
"What… would make you think that?"
"I noticed your looks and reactions to the Vlamish militiawomen. At first, I marked it to you not liking them and their manners, which I sympathized with. But then I started thinking on it more and more, and I realized something."
Erwan became a bit uneasy, but did not stop her.
"And what would that be?"
"You hate women in uniform or fighting in general. They should not have any place but the kitchen and home, even women like myself. Am I correct?"
"I disapprove of it," the knight hissed. "But not for the simple misogyny you confuse my feelings for."
"Well, I would be happy to hear out why you feel the way you do."
Just as Erwan was about to answer, the tent flap opened, Parky's young face popping in.
"There you are Eve! Sir, there's a fellow knight here to speak with you. Says he's from Johannes' lance."
"Why did you not just send him in?"
"Well sir, I wasn't all that sure you would want to see him again without a warning."
"Again?"
The flap opened to reveal a hardy yet jovial face that the Sororitas and knight recognized instantly.
"Grüß Gott-Kaiser, Herr Erwan!"
"Rudolf?"
Even if the duel on the road to Meurthe felt like a lifetime ago given the events since then, it was hard to forget the robber knight.
"In the flesh! Ah, Schwester! How are you?"
"Unhappy that we are attacking lands ruled by a Bishop of our Holy Emperors Church."
"Ach, I had a feeling you would say so. Your kind are quite rare on Haikk Five, never staying long, and they have only been in the east. But I do remember one or two visiting my home of Schloss Murzlich."
"What did you think of them?"
"Fondly. Taught me to read and write well, even in High Gothic."
A devious smirk moved across his face.
"And what else?" Erwan asked.
"I also remember sneaking into a side door of the nearby bathhouse to watch them. I knew more about their bodies than they did by the end."
Erwan hid a laugh as Evita grimaced in self-righteousness.
"Understood. What is the meaning of your visit?"
"Well, I wished to say hello to my former captor, and I hope whatever you earned from my ransom afforded you all some comfort."
"Johannes paid me quite well. I spent a bit of it, but for the most part I am saving for my return to Anglerre."
"Blessed is the Emperor for giving us the ability to find allies in former enemies," she said piously.
"And for the people of Branders keeping Johannes' pockets deep!"
The two knights laughed as the Sororitas sighed.
"Actually, I am here for you, Schwester. Johannes and his commanders wish to speak with you."
Erwan and Evita looked at the former rebel in surprise.
"What for?"
"He did not say. But as I am a man of slight intelligence, I would believe that he hopes your status and position in the Church will be of use to us in trying to negotiate with the garrison. If you are willing of course, I doubt that he or any of his subordinates would force you into doing anything."
She looked at Erwan, who shrugged.
"You make your own decisions."
"You are my commander."
"In theory, but de facto, I am not going to get in a Sister of Battles way."
"A good way to live, Herr Erwan. Well, Schwester?"
Evita thought it over for a few moments before she stood.
"I will meet them. What is the worst that could happen?"
A group of ten soldiers moved cautiously towards the front gate of Harnay, led by Rudolf in his armor, fixed in Meurthe after his duel and covered by a jupon bearing Johannes heraldry. Considering the circumstances, he and a coustillier were the only ones armed with melee weapons, the rest being an equal mix of harquebusiers, crossbowmen, and archers. All were mounted on horses as they approached the wall but stopped before getting into range of the defenders' own projectile weapons. The light cavalryman and half the lance stayed on horseback and eyed the corners, the other half dismounting, stringing bows, hauling pavises, and making sure match cords stayed lit. All of them lost focus for a moment as a tall, well-built woman in robes adjusted her silver hair before standing next to Rudolf.
"You men ready?" he whispered.
"Oui, chevalier."
"Are you nervous, Schwester?"
"Not of death, but of doing something wrong."
"These things are relatively simple: you tell them who you are, what you want, and if you can come to an agreement or to storm the walls. I will do the talking, but if I cannot convince them, you try."
"I will try to appeal to their souls. Or at the very least, Eccelesiarchial camaraderie."
"As long as we do not spill much blood on this day, I will accept anything. Well, no time like the present. Folgen Sie mir! Hold your fire unless they shoot first."
The six moved in, seeing multiple heads, helmeted or bare, poking through the merlons along the wall.
Rudolf stopped, his short hounskull visor lifted over his eyes. He heard the pavises' bottom spikes digging into the dirt, their owners watching the walls cautiously. At their sides, the archers stuck a few arrows in the dirt in front of them as the arquebusiers checked their matches and locks for the hundredth time. Thinking they were ready for anything, Rudolf nodded at Evita and the two moved ahead. They had taken about twenty or so steps before a voice called out.
"Who goes there!"
"Sir Rudolf Murzich, in the service of Lord Johannes Van Hoeve! We are here to parlay with the garrison and the leaders of this fine city!"
"What are your lords demands?"
"That you surrender the town peacefully or stay out of the coming conflict in these lands. We are not asking for you to betray the Argacs, but to stay out of our conflict!"
"You realize that you are threatening a town in the lands of none other than the Bishop of Langres, and by extension the very Imperial Church of the God-Emperor who protects your very soul?"
Rudolf sniffed with derision.
"If the Emperor wants us gone, he will send us a sign or send one of his fellow children to force us away. The armies of the east bear down on you with nearly four thousand soldiers and dozens of cannon. Let us pass with no issue and stay out of the fight or understand you will be victims of the fury of Benelige and Burgon!"
"I see… we will inform the vicar and the council of your demands. We are loyal to Bishop Alette, but we wish to see no destruction come to our homes."
"I am glad you are willing to hear us out, mein freund. You are not our target and never have been."
"As stated, we will discuss-"
Angry yells and shouts came from one of the towers to the left, the knight or soldier discussing with Rudolf pausing to look over at the commotion.
"Pardon, I will return in a moment."
Angry voices still filled the air but became hushed over time. Then, a few guards took positions on the wall, the previous speaker replaced by a thin, irritable looking man in a black cassock, an Imperial Aquila tattooed on his forehead.
"Oh no," Evita quietly groaned.
"The vicar?"
"Yes. And judging by that tattoo, from one of the more fanatical sects."
"Unreasonably so?"
"Faith is never reasonable, especially that of the Imperial kind."
The man looked down at them again, then towards the tower. After a few moments, he looked back at the part below and snarled.
"You heretics! Attacking the lands owned by the Church! I should have you and every piece of eastern filth excommunicated! No, I will have your Lord Johannes burned at the stake!"
"I see what you mean, Schwester," Rudolf replied. "Herr Vicar! We have no quarrel with you or this city. In the interest of peace-"
"Peace? When you have an unbelieving and apostate army at our gates? May the Emperor strike you down for your insolence! And for your arrogance! Leave, or you will be cut down by bolts and arrows blessed by myself to ensure the Emperor guides their aim to be true!"
"You would not dare!"
"And I thought good Imperial citizens and knights would not dare to threaten cities under the Churches protection! LEAVE!"
Rudolf appreciated his visor covering his face from the onlookers above to hide his fury. His offer of peace had been nearly successful, only so some cassock wearing lickspittle priest could ruin it. But he calmed himself knowing he still had a card to play.
"It is up to you, Schwester," he said to Evita.
"Very well."
Evita swallowed nervously and stepped forward.
"Good Vicar! Do you remember what our God-Emperor said in the Book of Zeno? After the fall of Nordafrik?"
"And what do you know of the word of the Emperor, woman?"
"He uttered to Zeno, "Blessed are those of humankind who take peace from their honest brothers, but may those who refuse them suffer in error." His wisdom is exactly what I think of in this moment: one where tragedy and death are unnecessary, but the only one blind to that fact is willfully so. As a Sister in the Adepta Sororitas, I cannot stomach the idea of shedding the blood of soldiers and civilians under the protection of the Church and its faithful teachers, but I can also not stand it being unavoidable from the thoughts and will of one man!"
The guards on the wall were preparing crossbows, but one or two of them looked down nervously, lowing their aim. Having researched about this planet, Evita knew that women in the Church was rare here, and just as rare was a woman who knew the good book as well as any priest.
"You dare use scripture against me? And my authority? There is a reason your ilk finds no home here in Haikk Five. You have no business here, and no right to lecture!"
"I am not hostile, Vicar! Quite the opposite, I desire peace, as the Emperor does not want us to spill the blood of our fellow man!"
"Then why are you helping an army that wishes to reap death and destruction on the west? Do you not see the hypocrisy?"
She certainly did, but this Vicar got on her nerves all too quickly. Sister Evita would not be humbled by this pissant.
"We are on a mission from the Imperium of Man, ordered by commanders, bishops and cardinals with direct links to Holy Terra itself! It is by their grace that I even go along with this venture!"
At this fact, other guards lowered their weapons. A few prayed in astonishment. And for the Vicar, realizing that someone had more sway over his men than he did, was too much to stomach.
One of the crossbowmen realized it first: seeing the Vicar turn to a guard and whisper something, only to get a shocked stare in response. He gently pulled his pavise from the ground with his weapon at the ready and began to slowly move towards Evita, who continued arguing theology.
"The faith is withering on the vine as your planet spends more time fighting each other than the true enemies of man! Lord Johannes is trying to achieve a common goal for all of us here, and he is offering no harm and the ability to stay away from the ravages of war! How can you deny the obvious?"
More heads started looking over the wall, guards intently listening to the woman and her words. The more who did so, the more panicked their commander became.
"The forces of the east do not wish any harm on their fellow man, just move through your lands in peace! As the Emperor said to the blessed Ollanius Pius: "He who stands with me shall be my brother." Open these gates for those who wish to unify those under His light, as you opened your hearts to Him!"
She lowered her head and leaned forward slightly in prayer. As she began a litany of protection to herself, there was the sound of arguing and the scuffle on the walls. Maybe the Emperor had blessed her this day and granted success, and all without having to spill any blood or fire any weapons. She was filled with optimism, hoping that all it took was for her to simply talk. How many battles could be avoided? How many lives saved? How many-
She was flung off her feet, forced onto her back with a painful throw. Evita was confused at first, wondering if someone had grabbed her or if she tripped. She attempted to stand up, then felt searing, near unbearable pain in her chest. She slowly moved her head to look down, seeing a crossbow bolt sticking out from under her right breast.
"Batards!" one voice roared from behind her.
"I will see you hang for that, priest!" Rudolf shrieked.
A figure moved past her, the noise of a shield slamming down on the ground.
"I will cover you ridder, get her away!"
Two blasts of black powder followed, arrows soaring above from both sides. She felt someone grab her, lifting her before bouncing up and down away from the walls. As blood filled her lungs and started to choke her, she tried to pray for forgiveness to the Emperor for her moment of self-aggrandizement.
The Leopards gathered around the surgeon's tent, the attempts at a quiet vigil broken by sobs. Davie had his arm wrapped around an unconsolable Parky, Hawke standing nearby as Bob sat and stared at the cooking fire in front of him.
"It's not your fault boy; there's nothing you could've done anyway."
"I should have been with her!" Parky wailed as he buried his face in his hands.
"It's alright lad, she'll pull through."
"Should have been wearing her armor."
"Shut the fuck up Hawke."
The thief balked at the serjeants rebuke.
"I'm only saying-"
"And I'm saying you shouldn't speak a damn thing if it's stupid."
"We should have never-never brought her here…"
"It's ok lad. Here: when you abbreviate Sisters of Battle, what do you get?"
Parky wiped a tear or two away with his sleeve and took a breath.
"SOB."
"Right, and you know what else that means?"
"Son of a bitch?"
"Yep! And you only say that when you're dealing with something hard to deal with, right? So, what do you think I mean by that?"
"You… you think Eve's a bitch?"
Davie sighed and rubbed his face.
"No, I mean she and every Sister is hard to take down! Evita very much included!"
"I… I guess."
The tent flap opened, Erwan stepping out into the late evening dusk. His face was slightly pale and showing signs of stress and exhaustion.
"Well sir?"
"Holding in there. Surgeons got the bolt out in its entirety and are keeping the wound clean. We will have to wait and see."
"So she'll be alright?"
"Yes Parky. Do not worry too much about her. Sawbones say that she is the toughest woman they have ever worked on."
"R-really?"
"From the Emperor's mouth to my ears. She needs plenty of rest and will hopefully be back to her old self in the morning. And the rest of you should get some sleep as well. Judging by the fact we got a… less than good welcome, we are going to start a siege in the morning. Hopefully those cannons can do most of the work quickly, then we get in there and give some righteous payback for Evita."
The others nodded; their spirits slightly raised by the chance of vengeance.
"Want to go for a walk Parky?" Hawke asked. "I think you need to clear your head a bit before you try to get some shut eye."
"That sounds good Hawke," he sniffled.
The two started heading towards the massive camp established by Johannes men, Davie standing to stretch his back.
"Poor lad. Did I do a good job of calming him Bob?"
"Aye."
"Can't help it sometimes though, can ya?"
"Nah."
"Gentlemen," Erwan politely interrupted. "I wanted to talk to you two privately."
"Something wrong sir?"
The Vretan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before sighing.
"I was not telling the entire truth to Parky."
"I had a feeling. What did they really say?"
"She… It is not good. They did pull the bolt and sealed the wound best they could, but between the collapsed lung, the loss of blood, and the amount she is coughing up-"
He looked at the two older Guardsmen and shook his head.
"Damn," Davie sadly responded.
"She will go sometime in the night most likely. It will be peaceful; they told me that much at least. I just need you both to… You have been around Parky longer than me, and you know him better. He will not sleep much tonight, so I will try to ease him into the reality of the situation before morning."
"They sure?" Bob asked.
"Unfortunately, yes, Bob. They have had to cut into many men with wounds like this, and they do not have the expert medical training or equipment the Guard medicae we are used to. But we have to work with what we have, and any aid from the Langriano would be too late."
"Hmm."
"I know you were able to stabilize her, but I have a feeling you are not much of a surgeon."
"Nah."
The three stared at the fire in silence for a few moments. Davie shook his head brushed some dirt off his armor.
"What a mess."
"Rudolf told me that the Vicar himself shot her. The other guards refused to do so."
"But the other guards-"
"Fired back when we did. Thankfully no other casualties."
"Hopefully this siege goes quick."
"I as well Davie. I need to report back to Johannes. He is not going to be happy about the prognosis, he already blamed himself for Evita getting hurt."
The knight moved away, noticeably deflated. His head hung lower, eyes bleary and focused on nothing. Davie and Bob sat alone, the stew bubbling in the pot above the fire.
"We really fucked up this time, eh Bob?"
"Aye."
"First we lose Rog, and now we're losing Evita. Dropping like flies, we are."
"Colstan Three again."
"You still remember that?"
"Course."
The memories came flooding back to Bob. This was the start of the campaigns that led up to the Haikk Crusade, almost fifteen years ago. He and Bob had been among the first to join the first Anglerre forces to leave the planet in centuries, and they were most likely the last of that group. The others had either completed their service and were replaced or were buried under the ground of a dozen or so worlds in the systems near Anglerre. Colstan was the hardest fought: angry populace, bad blood, and plenty of violence. The gang that they were a part of were wiped out in a nasty siege, leaving them the only survivors.
"Can I tell you something I noticed lately?"
"What?"
"I think whatever Rog is doing for the Prince and all of them… the Church here's got something going on."
Bob looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Think about it: Sisters are supposed to be the best the faith can provide, and she's been attacked by two or so priests now. Remember, at that Chapel on Four?"
"Aye."
"Telling you Bob, I think we're in deeper shit than he let on. And I hope it isn't going to bite us in the arse more than it has already."
"Hmm."
Before Davie could think anymore, two blood-splattered surgeons stepped out from the tent, tired and drained as Erwan was. They noticed the pair of Anglois and approached.
"Bienvenue. Are you friends with the Sister here?"
"Yes."
"We have done all we could," the other one said. "It is best to let her rest."
"Is she going to wake up?"
"I do not think so. Comatose from blood loss. We transfused some, but… it only does so much. We left Nicolaes to finish, he will probably be out in a little while."
"Thank you for trying."
"Pray for her. If not for recovery, then a peaceful transfer for her journey to the Emperors side. Maybe a miracle."
The two doctors moved off in silence, Davies face scrunching in pain.
"What a crock."
"Eh?"
"They recruit them as orphans, I heard. Train them from a young age to become the finest women warriors in the galaxy. Go to places beyond our imagination and do good wherever they go. She probably wasn't any different. And how does she die? Not in glorious combat, but from a fuckin' crossbow bolt as she chokes on her own blood on an Emperor-forsaken planet. Where's the justice in that?"
"No justice in war."
"Ain't that the truth. I'm gonna get something to drink, I heard the Burgons brought wine. Want some?"
"Sure," Bob said with a shrug.
"Be back in a little bit."
As Davie staggered off towards the Burgon camp, Bob was left alone to tend the fire and food. He had a plan in mind as soon as Evita returned from the failed peace offer, but hoped it would not be necessary. He knew he could save her. He had saved men and women who had suffered worse injuries. But mother had always warned him that his abilities should never be seen by anyone, especially those of the Church. It was too dangerous, she said. He saw the hangings and burnings in the cities near his home village to confirm that. But Evita was the exception, and seeing Parky in distress was too much for his old heart anyway. So he would wait, until the Benelige doctor was gone and darkness fell.
That night, there would be a miracle.
The river that ran through Fonblau was always a mixed bag. Some days it was clear and sparkling, others, filled with garbage and waste that stung the eyes from the smell. But always a constant was the small boats that plied through, moving goods or people for a price. That evening, one moved slowly through, whistles and waves greeting its pilot.
"Roy!"
"Hello dear Jacques!"
"Anything good today?"
"Silks from Orle, spices from Senart! What can I complain about?"
The fellow boat man laughed as they passed. Moving to the town center, a few guards caught his attention.
"Vive le Roy!"
His name was truly Roy, but given his ability and expertise of the Sayne that stretched across western Haikk Five, he was respected as king of the boatmen.
"How is your mother, Pierre?"
"Much better thanks to you getting that medicine in Nou-Par! Speaking of which, were you there recently?"
"Closest I got was Orle. Why?"
"Murder in the capital. Two priests. Locked down the whole city for the one who did it."
"Who was that?"
"Some knight from off-world. Dangerous."
Roy nodded slowly.
"I will keep my eye out. Any of you boys want some spices or a drink?"
"On duty. Sorry Roy."
"I understand. Have a safe watch!"
For a few more minutes, he maneuvered his boat carefully along the stone walls that directed the river's flow through the town. He pulled his craft alongside the little pier he had built himself many years ago, hidden from plain view before tying the boat to the dock, unloading a few bags of goods he had brought from the cities outside the grand capital. He went back for the last bag, and saw it was missing, along with the black cloak it was resting on. Roy nearly cursed before he heard a dull thud behind him.
"Those spices smell good."
"Be thankful I was not hauling manure or onions this trip," he chuckled.
"I am."
"Now, about payment…"
The cloaked figure handed him a bag of coins, which the boatman counted out. He was about to ask before the figure stopped him.
"I left you a few extra as thanks."
"Merci, monsieur."
They had met in a tavern not far from where his boat was docked, asking for an indiscrete ride towards the east. He had heard about a fugitive foreigner wanted by the Seneschal, but this man struck him as something different. He spoke his tongue fluently, carried himself like a noble, and did not seem desperate to run. Maybe he was running from a displeased noble daughters' family now burdened with an unwanted child. Maybe a duel went wrong. Frankly, he did not care, the journey was paid for and of little risk to him.
"If I wanted to head east-"
"There're steps that way. You'll pop up on the main road, head left, and there's the town square. Some convoys go east, not into the Burgon territories of course."
"Thanks for the ride."
"Thank you for the company, dear sir."
The man began up the stairs before he called out to him.
"And should you ever find yourself here again, your coin is always good with le Roy!"
The man waved and vanished up to the road, looking back to see Roy happily counting his livres. As he reached the road, he saw that the square was filled with locals and travelers from afar. He joined them, listening to a town crier.
"-and the price increase on grain will be enacted in two months' time."
Groans and grumbling followed the news, the visitor standing on the edges of the crowd.
"Bloody Seneschal," one of the men next to him complained.
"I bet it's the Cardinal doing this. Least we can get some cheap grain before the price hike in Tryes."
"Excuse me gentlemen," the visitor asked. "Is Tryes to the east?"
"It is. Why do you ask?"
"Traders?"
"Yep. Got a cart full of goods heading there."
"Might I join you on your travels?"
The two looked at him, seeing a sword under his cloak. He noticed and answered their concerns.
"I was a man at arms for one of the houses in Portiou. Fell on hard times and could no longer afford my services."
"Ah. Apologies. What do you think Charles?"
"If you need me to pay-"
"Nonsense, the roads are filled with bandits. Having an extra guard would never hurt. Right Jean?"
"No argument from me."
The three shook hands.
"What's your name?"
"Richard."
"What's sending you out east?"
He tensed up and looked to the ground in sorrow.
"A woman I cared about. She's somewhere there, and I intend to find her now that I have no obligations to stay away."
"I respect that. Hopefully you find her."
"As do I."
"Finally, an announcement to all loyal subjects of Haikk Five from the Seneschal and his court!"
The three focused on the crier again.
"Roger Wessyng, a knight of Anglerre, is wanted for the murder of two priests in the city of Nou-Par! This heinous and heretical act will not stand! A twenty-five thousand livre reward for his capture is approved by the court!"
"Emperor above! That's twenty years wages at least!"
"Yes, dear goodwife. He is armed and highly dangerous! It is unknown where he is traveling to, or if he is still in the capital! Stay vigilant! This man is violent, morally bankrupt, heretical, and with no respect for the law of the land or of our Holy Emperor! May he be swiftly found, drawn, quartered, and left to rot as much as his soul!"
The traders and their new bodyguard were not impressed with the final statement.
"Given how useless the bailiffs and such are around here, he'll never get caught."
"Certainly. But at least they can call him names. If I were that Roger fellow, I'd take pride in being described like that, rotten soul and all. What about you Richard?"
The man at arms shrugged before a grin crawled across his face.
"Honestly? I've been called worse."