"Shall we make camp here?"
As they rode on with their mounts through the rocky outcropping in the southern regions of the kingdom's outskirts, both Weimar and Sir Globar halted their steeds and glanced over at Syras. The new stable hand, his dark features only visible under his hood, glanced between both the knight and his new squire. The setting sky, causing the few clouds above to glow a faint peach color, gave Syras's brown eyes an ominous luminescent look.
"I rather we did not." Sir Globar waved a hand garbed in a brownish gauntlet. "This is outcropping is famous for its highwaymen and bandits. Sometimes, the mountain and valley clans pass through here. If we make camp here, we might as well invite any type of vagabond or rover to prey upon us. Oh, must I mention the shadow prowlers as well? I hear they are nasty up here. The Massedonian knight I squired for told me they like to sneak up on dead or even sleeping forms and b-"
"Alrighty, I get your point. We will not set up camp here. " Syras sighed and glanced at the stone path that lay before them as well as the outcropping. "I must admit, my steed is getting restless. He hasn't had a sip of water since we stopped at that stream this morning. "
"Fear not, we will find a place to rest up and eat. The horses can also do the same once we find stables at a livery, inn, or tavern. Besides, the town of Fjore is a couple miles away from here."
Let us hope that our mounts can make it until then.
As much as his legs hurt from the saddle soreness, the thought of spending the night in the open intimidated young Weimar. The idea of being easy prey for Mountain Jaguars, Shadow Leopards, or even Loht Wolves was enough to keep the weary young squire to push on. Every few seconds or so, his dark eyes would scour the the dull gray or bronze stones for any hint of a skulking predator or the telltale sign of a bandit lying in wait for an ambush on unwary drifters. Thankfully, it wasn't long until they cleared the hard ground and moved toward grassier plains.
"Any moment now, we will come upon our destination. The town of Fjore started off as a minute village that- Dear Charbald, what took place here?"
Hearing his superior's startled conjecture, Weimar glanced over at the town that was coming up-or what remained of it. Several inhabitants were huddled together at the edge of the burning remains of what used to be the bustling town of Fjore. Dogs, hares, bucks, and other household pets darted by as the fires raged on, emitting a bright glow underneath the colorful twilight above. Weimar's fists clutched at the reins tightly as he felt a great deal of commiseration for not only the poor people who lost their homes to the disaster, but also for the poor pets who had no idea what was going on and were panicked by the scenes of death and destruction surrounding them. His heart went out for Runeyohn, whom he was already starting to miss dearly. His Wallouf Shepherd could have easily been one of the pets stuck in this fiasco.
"It looks like our dreams of having warm beds and fowl in our bellies won't be coming true tonight," Sir Globar muttered. "I wonder what could have come down here. Was this a result of negligence or a bandit attack?"
Syras just shook his head. "It must be some accident. It looks as if a Norwikhi Ridgeback or a Fjallhorn Firemander rampaged through the town."
The knight stroked his beard. "You have keen eyes, stable hand. You might be onto something. Let's inquire what transpired here from one of the locals."
As they steered their horses deeper into the city, a woman , draped in a ivory-colored cloak and sporting a wailing infant in one arm, rose from a large building that was only partially immolated, warily glanced up at them. She started to slowly trot backward like a frightened mare after seeing a Mountain Jaguar creeping around, but Sir Globar raised his hand to assuage her of the fear that they were there to bring harm to them. Gradually but with great caution, she approached him. Despite the gravity of the situation, Weimar couldn't help notice that the ruined building, the town treasury as revealed by the contorted sign, slant downward like a tower of blocks. It reminded him of the Veinizhian's Mussole prison tower, a sight drawn by several traveling artists that visited the outer territories of the kingdom before making their way into the capital.
"Pray tell, lass, what transpired here? A dragon attack? An accident? An advanced recon troop of an enemy country like Masshalla or Khannat? Perhaps some raiders from the Harlaw Isles?"
The woman choked back a sob before glancing up at the Aislundian knight. "N-nay, sir. T-they c-came on h-horseback and o-on f- foot. S-slaughtered.....e-everyone."
"Who is they?"
As the knight asked the question Weimar and possibly Syras were dying to know, the woman, her pale green eyes brimming with unshed tears, glanced north as horses, shrieking wildly in fear and pain, darted past. Weimar noticed that some of the equine beasts were on fire and clenched his fist. Animal cruelty was not something that he could tolerate.
"T-the c-clans," the woman spoke through sobs. "O-or bandits. I-I c-can't t-tell them a-apart anymore. I-I n-need t-to f-find my h-husband! H-he w-worked with t-the p-porters."
"I see." Robin Globar's eyes narrowed as he stroked his chin."If what you say is true, then it appears that the outlaws or the valley tribes have gotten bolder and have the potential to launch more devastating attacks." He turned his attention back to the sniveling woman. " What did the militia forces assigned to defend your town do to counter the raids?"
She shook her head. "The sheriff just cowered at the City Hall with the mayor, leaving the constabulary to fend for itself. "
Syras cured out loud. "Hmph, so your police force and mayor lack backbones? Good grief, even I could provide better security to these villagers."
"Take us to your mayor," Sir Globar ordered. "I would love to have a talk with him and your sheriff about their managing of the town."
The woman nodded and clutching her sleeping infant close, she led them past the burning livery and an inn that was in shambles. Weimar saw several kids about Willie's age gathered around each other, whimpering. As they rode past several bloated corpses littering the ruined township, Weimar wondered if those kids had their parents around or if they were even family. Perhaps they were orphans who had just sought refuge under that Inn when the attack commenced.
"Well, what do you know?" Syras grumbled. "The brothel was struck as well."
"Quite the outlaw magnet," Weimar added.
The squire then spotted several individuals, both men and scantily-clad women, some wrapped in only bear fur, make their way out of an opening at the side of the establishment. The fair woman who was leading them gaped at one of the men and pointed a shaking finger at him.
"That i-is S-Sheriff Sharyyf!"
"Sheriff Sharyyf? Is that a joke?" Syras burst into fits of laughter. It wasn't long until Weimar followed suit. Not only was the local head of law enforcement a yellow bellied fool, but his name sounded really absurd.
"Boys! This is no time for levity!" Sir Globar's brown eyebrows furrowed. "The situation here is dire. " He galloped his horse toward the startled sheriff. "You are the sheriff of Fjore, correct?"
"What is it to you?" The sheriff, dressed in maroon doublet and a black jerkin, steadied his wool cap.
"It has come to my attention that your town has come under attack from valley tribes and you have neglected your duties."
Weimar could hear the venom in his boss's tone.
The sheriff stroked his chin, which had the wisp of a beard. "And care to explain how you came to that deduction?"
Weimar decided that he had enough of this corrupt sheriff's antics and spoke in place of his master. "Most of the corpses we have seen on the ground were defenseless civilians, including kids. I can count the number of helmed police that I seen lying there with arrows stuck on them or hewn down by battleaxes on my left hand. "
"Well, that couldn't be helped. As you seen, those civilians were helpless and unarmed, making them easier targets for the raiders. Deputy Daynja and I kept up up a-"
"L-lads! The City Hall is here!"
Weimar glanced away from the dastardly sheriff and to the their guide, who pointed at a boarded up stony building with the words City Hall etched in black letters. Unlike the rest of the buildings which were built with twigs and wood, the City Hall was able to withstand the bulk of the raider's attacks. Seeing Sir Globar and Syras nudge their mounts closer to the structure, Weimar followed suit. Two guards dressed in lamellar and York helms stood outside the barred entrance to the mayor's office as a throng of rioting survivors shouted at the mayor to come out and hurled chamber pots, bottles, and other objects they could lay their hands on toward the doors.
"Come out, Mayor Haathon, show us you are alive!"
"The wild ones took my daughter and my grain! What are you doing about it?"
"Let's take the battle to them!"
"Coward!"
As the rancor rose, several armed riot guards bearing large shields filled the space between the City Hall and the angry citizens. Weimar felt his blood boil and wanted to join alongside the angry laymen, but he knew the purpose of their visit wasn't for that.
"Hark! Where is the mayor? I need to have a word with him! " Sir Globar rode toward the guards. "Tell him Sir Robin Globar is here and perhaps he can have me as a guest under his roof."
The knight turned to Weimar and motioned for him to bear his standard. Weimar reached for his satchel and took out the orange and brown banner with the robin as his knight's coat of arms. With Syras's help, he unfurled the banner and fitted it on the end of the small wooden pole, completing the standard. It might have been enough to gain entrance into the mayor's quarters. In a matter of seconds, they were seated around a large brown table made of Yronwood (sturdy material) by a fireplace with mugs of ale handed to them as well as some stale crackers.
"Now, I don't approve of younglings like you both having access to hard drinks-"
"Ah, it's alright." Syras chugged his down as he cut off their employer's query. "My parents and I shared it each night. Besides, Weimar and I had stronger drinks. Right, Wei?"
"Oh, is that so?" Sir Globar frowned. "Pray tell, how this came to be."
Before the young squire or his stablehand friend Syras could open their mouths to reply, an aide garbed in red and green sauntered and unfurled a scroll to announce the presence of Mayor Haathon. Their host, garbed in regal black and white attire, sauntered out to meet them.
"Sir Globar." The russet-haired man bowed. "I hope you found my humble abode gracious and to your liking."
"Perhaps we can discuss your courtesies another time." The knight rose. "I want to discuss the recent attack on your city and why there is a feeble attempt, if any, to restore the town and its defenses."
"We are working on it as we speak," the mayor explained. "Initially, we were caught flat-footed by the raiders as they were better equipped and more organized this time and they were able to take off with half of our rations, grain, gold, and even women!"
Robin Globar crossed his broad arms over his brown-orange armor. "Were you caught with your pants down because you were ill-equipped or that you were preoccupied saving your own arse or were you involved in some black market deals? Yes, I am aware of your 'discrete' activities."
The mayor opened his mouth to deny those accusations, but the knight silenced him by raising a hand.
"That is a topic for another time. You say they only took half of Fjore's resources?"
"That's correct, sir knight."
A grim look took shape on the knight's bearded face. "Then you should rally up your defenses. Outlaws or tribesmen never leave a job half-finished. It would be plausible to assume that they will return to finish the job. Now, how bad did they damage the mill?"
Before the mayor could utter a response, the messenger from earlier barged into the dark room, breathing heavily. After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he turned to face the occupants of the dimly-lit room.
"Sir, the Bleeding Mummies have returned. What shall we do?"
Weimar and Syras exchanged alarmed glances. The Bleeding Mummies were a tribe of the mountains and the valley outside Aislundia, engaging in pillaging and pilfering of defenseless people, nearby towns and kingdoms, and even rival tribes. Rumors of their ferocity had often reached Territories, but no one had seen them firsthand since the days of King Lothbroch.
"The Bleeding Mummies, you say." Sir Globar stroked his beard. "Oh my, things have gotten complicated indeed. Order your aide to get your law enforcement off their lazy arses and use their weapons against the raiders. They were born with those hands so they might as well put them to good use. In the meantime, you give me their numbers and their positions and perhaps I can assist you in repelling their assault." The knight's ocean-colored eyes fixed on the boys. "I believe this will complicate matters. Send a pigeon to Morghaldt informing us of our delay. He will surely throw a fit, but if you ask me, I'd personally deal with wild marauders than face the wrath of an irritable mage."
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