The Elder Lands

Lucan and his father entered the study, welcomed by a waiting Thomas. The steward was seated in front of his father’s desk, and as he made to stand up for them, his father gestured for him to stay seated before going to his own seat behind the desk.

Lucan soon joined them, sitting opposite the steward, who, while not looking severe, had a hardness to his features that often meant something unfortunate had happened.

“Go on then,” the knight spoke first.

“Very well, the estate’s hunter has brought to light a rather concerning revelation,” Thomas said. “It appears that our residing refugees have been accepting a trickle of their kind through the forest without our knowledge.”

His father’s eyes narrowed at the words, and Thomas’s countenance was already mirroring his severity.

Lucan found it fortunate, even if a bit concerning. He did need more laborers after all. And he’d soon have a lot of arable land which would need farmers. He said as much to the two older men.

“It’s not the benefits of their arrival that should concern you the most, it’s them undermining our authority,” his father said.

“And with the even more concerning ongoings in the eastern forest, it’s not unlikely that those doing this have ties to the brigands that have been waylaying the passing merchants,” Thomas said.

“If they wish to bring more of their own into our estate,” his father continued, “then they must come to me for leave to do so. Now they might think they can only sneak some of their relatives into the fold. Later they might believe they can do even more, if they are not already, as Thomas has said.”

His father snorted. Something Lucan rarely heard from him. He must have been truly affronted by the refugees’ conduct. “I will go and talk some sense into their elders and perhaps knock some sense into their youngsters,” the knight said, standing up.

“No,” Lucan surprised himself with his response. And his father leveled a quizzical look at him. “I brought them here. The burden is mine.” He stood up too, meeting his father’s eyes.

After a brief standoff during which Lucan didn’t feel tested as he’d expected, his father sat down then gave him an acknowledging nod.

Lucan nodded back and marched out of the study.

Hale was rightly anxious. A jitter was working its way up his skinny arm as he sat on a rock protruding from the grassy earth. Here, he was close enough to both the forest and the fishermen’s village to watch the approach of anyone who may ruin their venture. One of the many things they’d had to watch out for as of late was the fishermen. Apparently, they’d begun turning more and more towards hunting since this fishing season wasn’t up to par. The lord–or knight–who ruled over these lands had given leave to anyone to hunt in the forest, at first it was all the dangerous predators, which had left some of his fellows too injured or too terrified to venture it again, but later they’d been allowed to hunt for fine game too.

Such circumstances were why he and his accomplices were now able to sneak so many of their own through the forest unnoticed. After all, with hunting allowed, it wasn’t suspicious for them to be seen coming and going through the woods. Initially, they’d only had to look out for the hunter and his sons, lest they be exposed by the man’s years of experience and familiarity with the forest. He was a sharp one, but one man could only watch for so much, even with the aid of his sons. With their numbers, they’d been able to elude his keen eyes and slip in a considerable number of their extended families, and even some friends.

Today, he was waiting for Younes, a compatriot and an accomplice, and hopefully, a competent one, since Hale had been getting a bad feeling about this whole venture for nearly a fortnight.

He was keeping the treeline within his sight at all times, waiting for the other man to break through it and bring him word of their latest venture. Hale’s mother had persuaded him to send for a third cousin, and he’d been foolish enough to agree after she’d kept at him for long enough. Three whole families related to them hadn’t been enough. Now they were even calling for those they knew only by thin blood. Hale didn’t even know if he’d recognize his third cousin. He hoped there’d be enough resemblance to make it easy at least.

His thoughts were interrupted by several figures coming out of the woods. He recognized Younes immediately, the young man’s flaxen hair blowing in the wind. He did not recognize those following him, however.

I suppose looking for resemblance was too wishful.

Hale was assured that it was his third cousin when he saw that the man was followed by his family. Soon, however, two more men emerged after them. And now that Hale was looking carefully, Younes and the family looked a little haggard and harried. Before he could make sense of what he saw, a voice from behind him made him jump.

“I suppose it wasn’t enough that we let you live on our land…”

Hale twisted in the air with agility that he wouldn’t have believed he had a moment ago.

“...you thought you were owed more,” the young son of their benefactor knight continued. He and another man had snuck up on Hale even though his sole purpose in sitting there had been spotting people. “Pray tell, how do you profit from this? Do the families pay you for safe passage? Or do you work with the brigands who now inhabit the forest?”

Hale stuttered for a moment nearly falling over in fright. Then he finally mustered the courage to put together proper words. “My lord, I-I swear, we did no such thing.”

“I’m no lord,” the young master’s voice was sharp and even. “And I must be dreaming then, if you’ve done no such thing. Perhaps you think me deluded?”

Hale shook his head so hard that his neck hurt. The young master, Master Lucan, was relaxed in his posture, though his face was stoney and his tone ice. But the one next to him had his hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed sword that seemed too wide and too short for him to recognize. “Sir. Master Lucan, I swear it, I swear, there was no coin to be made from this. These are our families and our friends. We know no brigands and we treat with no such people.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Master Lucan stepped closer to him. “You know no brigands or you know of no brigands?”

Hale lost his words again, the breath stuck in his throat. He was standing in the open, yet he felt as though he was backed against an impenetrable wall. What if he lied? What if he told the truth? Would they execute him? Would he get to intimately know that sword that was too wide and too short?

When his words treacherously refused to come to his aide, the young master’s voice came harsh and loud. “Speak!”

Hale nearly choked on his words as he spat them out. “Ther-there’s someone. It’s not me, by the Elders, it’s not me. He bought some things from them. He isn’t one of them though.”

The young master nodded to one of the two men following Younes and his third cousin’s family. Then he gestured towards Hale with his head. “Clifton. Go with him. Bring me the one who trades with the lowlives, and fetch Reeve while you’re at it.”

The man who approached Hale didn’t look much older than him. He had dark cropped hair and his face came to a point both at his nose and at his chin. His eyes were sharp enough to pierce him, and any dishonesty was forgone since he could tell that the man was suspicious of him before he’d even spoken.

“Ryder,” the young master continued, and Hale saw the man beside him perk up at being called. “Go back to the keep. Bring the others and apprise Sir Zesh of all this.”

Being dragged through his people’s camp was a blur. In truth, Hale was the one leading their venture through the crowded residences, but the eyes trained on his back made it all but voluntary in his heart. At times, he found himself marching faster than he thought he could, at others he found himself slowing down so that the suspicious pair of eyes wouldn’t accuse him of attempting to escape. The man-at-arms, Clifton, didn’t speak much, and by the Elders, he didn’t need to. Hale felt that he had a thousand eyes on him instead of two.

They found Elder Reeve first, whose countenance turned grim at what he heard. The old man only gave Hale an uncharacteristically murderous look, which was the least of his fears today.

It only took a little more time for them to find Neved. The fool tried to run at the sight of them, and Hale was made familiar with what the rest of the man-at-arms could do. By the time the former trapper had turned around, this Clifton had eaten up half the distance between them, and Hale could swear that he had moved before Neved had even decided to flee. Before the trapper could pick up the pace, the man-at-arms was on his back…with all his weight, riding the man down into the ground to the astonishment of all those around them.

The man-at-arms pulled his axe out of its loop on his belt and Hale feared the worst, only for him to ram the blunt end of it into Neved’s brow.

Blood cascaded down one half of the trapper’s face, though he only looked dazed. Hale realized that the blood was diminishing the man’s sight as the man-at-arms pulled him up onto his feet by the scruff of the neck. He then pushed him towards them and gestured for them to walk ahead of him and Neved.

The march back was another blur, full of Elder Reeve glancing back with not a little dread. A crowd was gathering around their path out of the encampment, watching curiously but silently. None of them dared follow them out, however, for they wanted nothing to do with what rightly seemed to be a bloody strike of misfortune.

They eventually returned to where the young master was waiting for them, having apparently been questioning Younes, who looked fairly terrified. Hale liked to think that he appeared more composed than his companion, but he doubted it.

Clifton, the man-at-arms, brought Neved in front of Master Lucan then kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel. His face and tunic were bloody, bloodier than a small bump with a blunt end would suggest.

Master Lucan looked at the kneeling Neved with a raised brow then at Clifton quizzically.

The man-at-arms shrugged. “He tried to run.”

Elder Reeve was brought forward to the young master, and he bore the onslaught of words that followed with a composed if defeated countenance.

“My father in all his grace has seen it fit to give you and your brethren a haven here. You’ve found work, you’ve been fed, and some of you have even found their fortune.”

“Yet, you appear to have found such treatment inadequate. And you’ve gone on to remedy that wrong in your own way. Resettling those we did not grant passage into our land.” He glanced at Younes and then at him. Hale could only avoid the young noble’s eyes and keep his own fixed on the ground.

“Trading in illicit goods,” he continued, nodding at the kneeling Neved.

“Master Lucan,” Elder Reeve spoke hurriedly. “That is not…we don’t treat with the bandits. This one,” he gestured at Neved, “acted on his lonesome. He does not act on our behalf. And-and.” The old man glanced at Hale with gritted teeth. “These boys have behaved foolishly, Master Lucan. But they meant no harm. They have let no criminal into our midst, I’m certain. If I’d known what they were doing, I would have brought it to a halt–”

“So you did not take note of any unfamiliar faces in your encampment,” Master Lucan said. “One would think you’re living in a city of thousands.”

“I…I might have noticed some oddities, Master Lucan,” Elder Reeve said, and Hale knew the man was honest, for he had known him a long time. “But in my negligence, I had not recognized what was being done.”

The young master nodded slowly, walking back and forth. Then Hale saw the man-at-arms that’d been sent back to the keep return on horseback, accompanied by four others.

Master Lucan saw them too then walked towards Neved, crouching down to his level. He whispered to the trapper but Hale couldn’t hear what they were talking about. Soon, the trapper broke down into sobs and nodded as the young noble continued whispering to him. Neved whispered something back with repeating bobs of his head. Then the young master nodded slowly and patted Neved on the head as one would a dog.

The men-at-arms who’d just arrived dismounted, the oldest of them approaching Master Lucan first. “We know where the bandits are?” he said.

Master Lucan nodded. “There aren’t too many. They seem to prowl in pairs or threes at most. They’ll be easy pickings.”

The old man-at-arms nodded, glancing at the kneeling trapper with undisguised disdain. “We hunt them down then?”

“Yes,” Master Lucan said. “Leave me only Clifton. We’ll comb through the encampment to ascertain that none of the ill sorts have nested here. Take command of the rest and take this one.” He pointed at Neved. “He’ll guide you to where you need to go. He has done more than trade with them, it seems.” He turned to glance at Elder Reeve who paled a shade or two at the words.

“What of the soldiers?” one of the other men-at-arms said. He was middle-aged and with inky hair and a spear too thick and heavy for any ordinary man to carry with comfort. “The deserters that have supposedly made the forest their home?”

“Those seem to be nesting in Sir Wolfe’s land,” Master Lucan said. “We’ll send word. He’ll be happy to paint the forest with their innards.” He turned back to the older men-at-arms. “Scout first. If you’re outnumbered, fall back, even if it appears you’re better armed.”

The old man-at-arms nodded and gestured for the others to gather.

At the same time, Clifton and the young master gestured for Elder Reeve and the rest of them to follow as they marched towards the encampment.

Hale couldn’t help but wonder how they’d been outed. Unfortunately, his treacherous mouth seemed intent on arranging for his murder today, for it released the question along with his breath. And the young master’s ears were sharper than he would’ve hoped. “Hmm?” he turned towards him.

Hale felt the sweat beading on his forehead and feigned innocence.

“What was it you said?” the young master said, seemingly insistent on knowing what he’d muttered.

Hale surrendered a breath and answered as politely as he could. “I was wondering, Master Lucan, how you found us. Was it the hunter? Did he spy us after all?”

“The hunter?” Master Lucan chuckled. “I suppose that would’ve been more fitting.” Then he shook his head. “No. No. It was the ratcatcher from the bailey. Has a sharp pair of eyes, that one. Realized there were too many unfamiliar faces as he repeated on your encampment. I did warn your elders about the vermin.”