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    Chapter 32


    Crossroads


    A few hours had passed while Daegan and Tanlor waited for Rowan to return from scouting. Initially Daegan had been grateful for the extended break from riding. Tanlor had conjured a small fire that they’d cooked an early lunch on. It was pleasant, at first, to just take it easy while Tanlor periodically checked on Wolfhound but after a while, Daegan grew restless. Now that they’d finally stopped with no distance to be gained or camp to set up, he was left with his thoughts.


    He still couldn’t fathom who had managed to turn Ferath against the Tredain family. The man was as loyal as they came or so he’d thought. Now that he thought about it, Daegan actually didn’t know much about the man despite him being in service to his family for years. Even as boys, he’d trained with Daegan and Landryn under Swordsmaster Garld amongst a number of other talented highborn. He was from a reasonably wealthy highborn family and had been offered a place in the royal guard because of both his skill and his family connections. He’d served with Landryn, both alongside him in skirmishes along the Reinish border and then later as his subordinate. From what Daegan could tell, Ferath had been a staunch supporter of Landryn’s promotion to Commander. It baffled him how someone so patriotic could turn against the royal family. Daegan spent much of his time actively trying not to think about his father, his imposing presence or the way that he made Daegan’s throat lock up anytime he was near. They had spoken directly for years and King Abhran made no secret of his disdain for his crippled son, but he was still his blood and his son by right. An assault against his own his blood would be an offence that to the King would be swift to deal harsh and condemning judgement. Ferath’s own family will likely suffer greatly for his actions. Unless, this is what father wanted? The man’s cold domineering eyes appeared in Daegan’s memory. His throat felt tight and he began to sweat. Such anger and hatred. Yes. Father would kill him…  dull aches in the scars around his body began to form. They were phantom pains, he knew. The injuries he’d sustained at his father’s hands having long since healed. But father couldn’t kill him, not King Abhran, he couldn’t openly murder his own his son for being a cripple. He wouldn’t want the other highborn to think him so cruel. But Daegan knew in his heart the truth; father would have killed him if he’d been able to. But why now? He’d ignored him for almost a decade, why now that he was out of the Pillar and out of Reldon entirely would father decide to kill him now? It didn''t make any sense. Daegan had initially assumed when his brother Lukane had informed him he would be sent to Rubane to serve as the Reldoni consul that it was his father’s influence to have Daegan finally sent away from his sight, to send him off to a frozen forgotten corner of the world to live and die as far from him as possible. But why send him here at all, if he was simply planning to have him killed? He couldn’t entertain the prospect of any of his siblings being involved. Lukane, being almost ten years older than him, they’d never really had any bond. He wasn’t that different from father, he’d been critical of Daegan during his training. Not abusive as their father had been but his disregard for Daegan’s treatment back then was a cruelty that Daegan couldn’t forgive. After his training had stopped, Lukane had mirrored their father’s dismissal of Daegan until only a few years ago, he’d insisted on Daegan being given a purpose in the family and had him assigned to various positions in the Palace until ultimately being sent here.


    As for Landryn, the man was a stranger. He wasn’t the boy he’d played games with in the Pillar, who’d sneak out of bed at night to play in the fountains on the balconies on warm nights in Summer. Landryn’s training had intensified in their teen years and he was off being a warhero in Rein by the time they’d grown into men. Landryn probably didn’t like him but he didn’t think Landryn hated him, certainly not even enough to have him killed anyway. And then there was Allyn, the only member of his family that actually brought joy. His fierce little sister, as gifted a runewielder as Landryn, but had taken a different path to him. Instead of training with the military, she’d trained and studied at Isoler. But she was kind, and her joyous smile gave Daegan comfort. No, he didn’t think any of his siblings could be part of this. Even his father being involved seemed a stretch, his father didn’t care enough about him to waste the effort on planning this. He was at a loss as to who planned this and why.


    Do normal people ever have to worry if their family members were plotting to murder them? He glanced over at Tanlor who was cleaning a cookpot by the fire. He and Rowan didn’t always seem to get along very well. But then again, he’d trusted him to come on this journey. Could Daegan say the same for his brothers? What was he thinking? Here he was trusting two complete strangers on the journey. A journey that he wasn’t even sure what the destination was.


    “So where is it exactly that we’re going?” Daegan asked Tanlor. He knew vaguely that they were going up past the Nortara Sheet. That Tanlor’s father was originally from someplace up there.


    “Up past the—”


    “—Nortara Sheet, yes, yes,” Daegan replied, “but where exactly? The map that we have doesn’t note any towns up there. There were just a few outposts.”


    “That’s because there isn’t any towns up there. It’s all wildlands.”


    “So how is that safe?”


    “Safe from whatever’s coming after you,” Tanlor replied, “safer than waiting around Rubastre for Ferath to come at you again or anyone else involved. Harder to kill you, if people haven’t a notion where you are. It’s easy to hide up north. Lots of space up there, not much people.”


    “But what about these raiders, or outlaws,” and then added feeling a little silly, “rakmen or beastmen and such. Are those not just as dangerous.”


    “You have us,” Tanlor shrugged, “it’s not so much a threat if you know how to avoid the danger.”


    “Is that what we’re doing here,” Daegan smiled and nodded to the still unconscious wolfhound who was propped up against a log near the fire, “avoiding danger.”


    “Rowan—sometimes he can’t let things go,” Tanlor said, “he’s stubborn and if he doesn''t like how someone’s treated he’s going to try do something about it.”


    “What about these raiders, who are they?”


    “Outlaws probably,” Tanlor replied, “best to just put them down before they can do more damage.” Daegan thought that was a bit callous. He was about to ask Tanlor if that’s how he really felt but then was distracted by Rowan’s appearance. He appeared further down the road, small at first. The pair waited quietly in anticipation while Rowan made his way to their makeshift camp by the road.


    “Raider’s have cleared out,” Rowan said simply as he arrived, “watched from the outskirts for a while and didn’t see any signs of ‘em. A few folk moving about but none of ‘em looked to be outlaws. They looked rough, beaten. I watched a while longer but it was clear they’d moved on. I went into the village briefly—” he held up a hand as Tanlor opened his mouth to speak, “—I know I said I’d report back first. But trust me, Tan. They were cleared out. Anyway, I went to the inn. Innkeeper’s dead along with half the village. They’re sending people out to nearby villages to try to get word to the authorities to get a contract out. The raiders didn’t just take supplies, they’d taken a few people with ‘em back into the hills. Ain’t no fighting men left in the village, but they’re hoping the Duke will put up a contract to get their people back.”


    “That’s terrible,” Daegan said, “what are we going to do?”


    “Right now,” Tanlor interjected before Rowan could speak, “we’re going to bring Wolfhound to the inn. He can be their problem.”


    “And after that?” Rowan said pointedly.


    “We’ll talk about it.”


    They left the discussion there and hurriedly packed up the camp. Gently, getting Wolfhound back onto his horse. Within minutes, they were back on the road to Crossroads. Daegan urged his horse up alongside Rowan’s usual position at the front.


    “You want to go after them?” Daegan asked.


    “Aye,” he grunted, “I’ve seen what raiders do to people they take with ‘em. They’re not going to live long enough for the Duke’s contract to be any use to them.”


    “Who are these people?”


    “The raiders?—Bandits, outlaws. Doesn’t matter what you call ‘em.”


    “They’re still people though?”


    “Some folk are born bad and some of ‘em, some of ‘em just go bad. Maybe something bad happens to ‘em in their life. Makes them the way they are, maybe others just simply don’t know any better. Doesn’t really matter what got ‘em there though, once they’ve got past a certain point there ain’t no coming back.”


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “Probably a stupid question but what do you do with them?” Daegan asked, he didn’t intend for it to come across as judgemental but he realised that as he spoke the words it might get picked up that way. Who am I to judge what happens to these people, this isn’t my country, these aren’t my people. Even in his own country, Daegan didn’t have a seat on any court rulings. Rowan gave him a long, considering look, if he was offended by Daegan’s line of questioning, he didn’t show it “there’s no stupid questions, only stupid people,” Rowan replied and then a sad look crossed his face, “there’s no prisons out here so what do you we’ll think do to them?”


    “Is there no judge? No trial? Are you going to execute them outright?”


    “Sometimes you don’t need a judge or a court to know what to do.”


    “What if someone is falsely accused?”


    “All I can do is use my own intuition, if something isn’t clear to me I’ll pass it over to the authorities to deal with,” Rowan replied solemnly, “although that’s usually not the case. You’ll see when we get to Crossroads that a lot of the time—out here—it’s undeniable. We can’t take every raider captive and bring them to a trial. A lot of the time, the trial is simply how good you can fight. I don’t always like doing it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to be done.”


    Daegan let that sink in. It made him think of the Honorsword system in Keiran, where Emperor’s appointed judges were given authority to deal out execution as they saw fit. From what he’d heard, that led only to widespread corruption in Keiran. Their own system in Reldon was flawed, but Keiran and Rubane seemed broken by comparison. Reldon was ultimately a military country, their military was both the shield that defended the Kingdom and the sword that policed it’s people. It was something Daegan mentioned a few times to Lukane and other highborn in the Pillar but it had fallen on deaf ears, who was he to make comments on the law—he was the disgraced third son of the King. Only his younger sister Allyn had been interested in his thoughts on how the courts should be separated from the military. She would likely have a lot of influence as she grew older, she was still a girl in Daegan’s eyes although now at sixteen, she was showing a keen political mind. Being the eldest—and only—daughter of the King, she had the right to contest Lukane for the throne like his great-grandmother had done. Queen Freyna had challenged her older brother, claiming him to be incompentent leader. Having lost the Altarean Isles to pirate militias and instigating the border troubles with the Reinish that still plagued them, Freyna’s brother’s support was waning. When his sister rose as the potential heir, the highborn had flocked to her promises of regaining control. She’d reclaimed the lands taken by the Reinish invaders but Altarea had been well and truly lost. It was a defeat that only now Daegan’s own brother Landryn had finally managed to undo, conquering the Altarean palace and deposing their false royal family. That action of course would have a knock-on effect, Daegan guessed. The Altarean royal family had been supported by the Keiran Emperor. Hadn’t he married off one of his cousins or something like that to Altareans? But he didn’t doubt that Lukane and Landryn hadn’t foreseen that and were actively working to ease any tensions with the Keiran. It was a bold move, reclaiming Altarea. It was an announcement to the world that Reldon was once again establishing their control, that their military was strong and formidable. He knew who the driver was behind it; King Abhran wanted nothing more than to be seen as powerful. His legacy as Queen Freyna’s grandson and descendent of the great Queen Elyina herself was a shadow that he yearned to step out from. Daegan understood this, but that didn’t allow him to forgive his father for the things he’d done, or for being a cunt in general. He wondered what his father would think of him now; in a sheep''s wool lined jacket and at the complete and utter command of two Rubanian knights.


    ***


    Crossroads was a lot smaller than Daegan had expected it to be. They’d broken out through the tree line to an open expanse of farm fields. They were dusted white with light snow but hints of green underneath were still visible. Horned and shaggy oxen in all shades of brown and grey dotted the fields. The line of the tree spread to the north and climbed up into the snow tipped hills. Less than a mile in the distance was a small cluster of buildings. They looked like up-turned ships left out in the snow. They’d passed through tiny villages and towns on the road from Rubastre, but for some reason he’d been expecting Crossroads to be bigger. As they neared the town, the people of the town stared at them, some apprehensively, others with outright hostility.


    Strangely parts of the dirt road leading into the village had large chunks dug out of it. As if some giant had plucked up handfuls of the earth indiscriminately. Daegan attempted to maneuver his horse around the pits, but the beast shook its head in disapproval and then avoided the holes anyway. Daegan decided to just let the horse make his own path, walking along in Rowan’s horses hoofprints in the snow.


    “Remember, keep your hood up and don’t speak to anyone unless you can’t avoid it,” Tanlor said to him in a hushed tone as he rode up next to him.


    “Yes, yes. Same as the last village, and the one before that. Just order me a whitewhiskey when we get to the inn,” Daegan replied.


    The inn was a crude building of stone brick. I suppose it’s hard to get a good stoneshaper out this far into nowhere. The craftsmanship of Rubanian stoneshapers in general, Daegan found to be sorely lacking compared to masterful architecture of Epilas and the Pillar. But this one of the worst he’d seen, bricks of all manner of size and shape, haphazardly thrown together. There was a wooden sign with a bed carved into it. There was a patch of frozen blood in frost crusted ground where he dismounted from his horse. Delightful.


    “Wasn’t sure if you’d be back or not,” a greying woman with a hard face said from the door of the inn.


    “Just needed to go back and pick up this lot,” Rowan replied walking up to her, “these are my companions; my brother, Tanlor and Desmond, a—er—mapmaker,” he then pointed at Wolfhound who was unconscious again in his saddle, “you recognise him?” He asked.


    “No, but he’s likely the one that got the bastards all jumpy last night,” she replied, she looked to Tanlor and Daegan, taking both of them in with a face that looked like it had weathered a thousand storms, “I’m Mendy. This was my brother-in-laws inn before those fuckers cut his throat.”


    “I’m sorry for your loss, Mendy,” Tanlor offered. Daegan dutifully said nothing, but he also wouldn’t have known what to say in any case. Tanlor unbuckled the straps holding Wolfhound in place, “do you think he could be one of the raiders?” he asked, hoisting the fully grown man effortlessly into his arms.


    “No,” she said bitterly, “I’ll not forget the faces of any of ‘em. I’ve not seen him before. But someone came through last night, a merchant and his hiresword. They did the merchant cold where the tall foreign fella is standing,” she said, nodding to Daegan, “but his hiresword managed to make it off. He took down Dugg before he fled town though.”


    “Dugg?” Rowan questioned.


    “Big fucker, he was their leader,” she answered, “without him, they started getting all angsty that the hiresword would get word to the Duke’s men so they left last night in a hurry. Come on, best get him inside. He’ll need a bed and bandage change.”


    The inside of the inn was cramped. There were broken bottles and turned over chairs, a pair of young boys were moving about cleaning up, they eyed the newcomers suspiciously but after a few hard words from Mendy they kept to themselves. Another woman, similar in appearance to Mendy sat with an empty stare at one of the tables.


    “Phyllis,” Mendy said to her, “this man needs caring for. Will you put him in one of the rooms, I’ll have one of the boys fetch Bod to check on his injuries.” The woman just looked at her with a confused expression. After a few more gentle prompts from Mendy, Phyllis was escorting Tanlor—still carrying Wolfhound in his arms like a fully grown adult man-child—off into a backroom.


    “So?” Mendy started turning back on Rowan and Daegan, “which of you is paying for his room? I wouldn’t normally be so direct for funds upfront but we’ve just had every penny in this place dug out and robbed.”


    “Duke’s men will post a contract for the raiders. We’ll be long gone from here when they do, but we’ll bring back the evidence that the raiders were put down. The village can take the reward for the contract.”


    “And why would you do that?” Mendy asked accusingly, “Ain’t nobody work for free, least of all your type.”


    “We’re not hireswords, miss,” Rowan eased, “my brother and I are knights. Trained in Garronforn, Tanlor is in service to the Arch Duke himself.” Her face seemed to break a little, small cracks in her hard visage, “will you really get our girls back?” Daegan turned his head at her. What was she talking about? He looked at Rowan who didn’t seem to need further explanation.


    “I can’t guarantee they’re still alive, but if they’re with ‘em when I catch up to them. I’ll bring ‘em home. How many?”


    “Three,” she seethed, “Two are my nieces, another girl from the village. The blacksmith’s son too, just a boy.”


    “And the blacksmith?”


    “Dead, along with all the other men who tried fighting ‘em.”


    “His son was training with him?”


    “Aye, they took the village’s earthstone and topaz too,” she replied.


    “They’ll have the boy making weapons for them, I’d bet,” Tanlor said from the corner. Daegan hadn’t noticed him come back.


    “My thoughts too,” Rowan agreed, “there’s hope for him at least. Which way did they go?”


    “North to the woods… and the hills,” she replied.


    “There’s a lot of hills,” Rowan said.


    “And a lot of woods,” Tanlor added, walking over, “we should move quickly. If they only left last night, we might be able to catch up to them. Just the two of us riding hard, we could cover twice the distance they can with captives.” Rowan gave his brother an approving nod, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just the two of them?


    “Do you know where the best camps are on the fringes?” Rowan asked Mendy, “old ruins, or a sheltered crag? Any place they might stop for the night?”


    “There’s an old abandoned brewery at the edge of the woods… some other ruins dotted in the woods, I wouldn’t be too familiar further up into the hills though.”


    “How many are there?” Tanlor asked.


    “Nine,” she nodded, “there were eleven, but your friend killed two of them.”


    “They stole horses too?” Rowan probed to which she nodded again in response. “With the captives,” Rowan mused, “they wouldn’t be able to get further than twenty miles—thirty at the most.”


    “They also took the merchant''s wagon,” she pointed out, “a rusted, slow thing. But they got all excited about what they found in it. I don’t think they’ll be quick to abandon the thing,” Mendy elaborated. Rowan and Tanlor shared a look, “Fifteen miles?” Tanlor asked.


    “At best,” Rowan agreed, and turned back to Mendy, “that brewery, how far is it?”


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