Date: Tue, 18 May 2010 03:58:19 +0200
From: Adrie van Dijk <ganymedes62@hotmail.com>
Subject: Princes of the Realm - Prologue

Princes of the Realm

Prologue -- Superstition

A cold wind was blowing down from the Northern Spikes as a lone cart made
its way over the main road to Chizum. This far north on the continent of
Trahan the villages and towns were few and far apart. With the small
village of Tentras only less than an hour away off the main road, Carl was
looking forward to sleeping in a decent bed for the night.

Carl went up from Tanryan to Chizum every two or three years. At 40, he had
grown from a farm boy to an enterprising and even well to do merchant in
precious gems and jewellery. This time though, something wasn't right on
the road up ahead. This far up north bandits, orcs or even dark elves could
spell doom to a single cart driver.

Putting his horses into a slow pace and with his sword and crossbow in easy
reach, Carl continued on his path. Then he discovered the cause of the
disturbance that had made him cautious, a hanging cage with a recent
victim. As Carl had his horses pick up speed he noticed something strange
though, the victim in the hanging cage wasn't a hardened criminal. It was
but a boy in a ragged shirt and pants, not more than 12 or 13 years old,
sobbing loudly.

As Carl's cart rumbled past the hanging cage the boy looked up and Carl
could clearly see a gag and his tear stricken face. Carl's stomach
constricted, whatever the boy had done, he didn't deserve a fate like
this. It was a local affair, of course, but Carl did make a mental note to
inquire further once he reached the village.

It was almost sundown when Carl reached the small farming community of
Tentras. Upon reaching The Silver Goblet, the only inn in the village, he
drove his cart into the courtyard. Almost instantly a small boy came
running from the stables. From his fluffy eyes and the streaks on his
cheeks Carl determined that this boy too must have been crying. He held
himself brave though as he took the bridles and led the horses and cart
further into the spacious courtyard.

"You can go right in sir, I'll unhitch the horses and take good care of
them for you", the boy said in an almost squeaky voice after he brought the
cart to a halt. He was already working on it while Carl stashed away his
weapons before getting of the cart.

The Silver Goblet was a typical small country inn. The common room had a
good sized hearth and a number of simple wooden tables with chairs placed
around them. At the back was a bar with the kitchen and a storage room
behind it as well as the innkeeper's living quarters. At the left of the
bar was a staircase that led to the second floor where there were a few
rooms for guests.

Upon entering Carl immediately noticed that the common room was uncommonly
quiet. Normally at this time of day there would be a decent number of
locals that would visit the inn for an ale and a talk. As it was, Carl only
saw one other guest as he walked over to one of the tables and sat
down. The innkeeper had spotted him and came over to his table straight
away.

"You don't look particularly pleased to see me, John", Carl started.

"Oh, no, Carl, I'm happy to see a familiar and friendly face. I'm just a
bit preoccupied with some problems we've had recently in these parts. It's
bad for business."

"Would a boy cooped up in a hanging cage that I saw beside the road coming
in have anything to do with that?", Carl asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so, but you know how superstitious people can
be sometimes when their normal lives seem to get turned upside down."

"Get me a pint of ale and some of your good food, and then tell me all
about it." Carl said.

This brought a smile to the innkeeper's face and Carl could hear him mutter
as he made his way to the kitchen: "Thirsty and hungry, that's how I like
my customers."

The innkeeper soon returned with a bowl of steaming stew accompanied by
slices of bread as well as a flagon of ale for both Carl and himself. He
sat down opposite Carl and began to recount what had been happening.

It started a few weeks ago with some cows and other livestock disappearing
or being found dead. This wasn't uncommon with orcs sometimes coming down
from the Northern Peaks in Fall to stock up as it were. Normally these
raids would stop after about a week, but not this time and that led people
to suspect some other type of foul play being involved.

Rumours about wizardry being involved abounded and then, a few days ago,
someone had caught an unknown boy talking to a black cat and immediate
action had been taken. The cat was burned, but nobody dared to physically
harm the boy. In the end it was decided that the smith would make a hanging
cage and some of the village's men had put the boy in the cage early that
morning and carried him away.

"So what did the boy say about all this?" asked Carl.

"I haven't heard anything about that. But I think he was kept gagged most
of the time to prevent him from bewitching anyone." John replied.

Carl just couldn't get his head around it. He had never been the
superstitious one and these things were just beyond his understanding. He
fully understood though that they were a regular part of life in these
areas and deeply rooted.

"Where did the boy come from?" Carl went on, still curious.

"Nobody knows," John answered, "he certainly wasn't from around here. The
Gods only know where he came from."

"I suppose you'll want your regular room for the night," John asked, as
Carl was finishing his stew.

Carl confirmed and the two men continued their conversation, catching up on
other news. After two more flagons of ale Carl decided it was time to get
some sleep. He wanted to get an early start the next morning and went
straight for the feathered bed. It would be a welcome reprieve from the
hard back of the cart that he had slept in for the last few nights and he
soon was fast asleep.

Sometime during the night though Carl suddenly became wide awake and his
instincts took over. He always kept a knife close and it was already in his
hand the moment he saw the latch on the door slowly opening.

"What kind of thief is this?" Carl thought to himself. Clearly it was one
with little experience as he was noisy and clumsy.

The door opened slightly and Carl was surprised to see the head of the
stable boy peaking into the room. When the boy saw Carl awake he quickly
slipped into the room, latched the door behind him and turned to face Carl
again. He looked at him intently for a few seconds, inevitably seeing the
knife in his hand.

"I mean you no harm, sir," the boy whispered, and Carl believed him.

As Carl put down the knife the boy approached, slowly and carefully. Then
he quickly kneeled beside the bed and made his plea: "Will you please safe
him?"

In between soft sobs the stable boy, Daltin, told Carl the story about
himself and his friend, Jorthun, who was now in a hanging cage on a tree
outside the village. Daltin's parents had been killed during an orc raid
and a few months ago his uncle had send him into the village to find a
job. John, the innkeeper, had obviously taken petty on him and hired him as
a stable boy.

One night, a few weeks ago, Daltin had discovered another boy sleeping
above the stables. He was an orphan too and the boys had become instant
friends. Daltin had shared his food and in turn, Jorthun had helped out
taking care of the horses and other chores, while staying out of sight. The
boys had often talked until late into the night and it was clear that their
relationship had grown to more than mere friendship.

Daltin had been saving up some money and the boys had talked about the
future and leaving together. Jorthun had insisted though that they needed
to save up more and that for the time being they had a reasonably good
life. It all had gone well until that fateful day when someone had seen
Jorthun petting a black cat.

"Please sir, safe him. I'll do whatever you want me to." the boy finally
whispered and he began to take of his shirt.

Carl stopped him. "There is no need for that." he said. "I will free your
friend tomorrow and I'll take him with me to Chizum, where he'll be
safe. Now go and let me have some sleep."

Daltin quickly left the room and Carl went back to sleep, wondering what he
was getting himself into.

When Carl came down the next morning he was greeted by John and the smell
of breakfast. After breakfast he settled his account and went out to find
his cart all hitched up and ready to go. Daltin however was nowhere in
sight. Carl left a silver Jazz for him on a plate he found just inside the
stable doors. He then mounted his cart and led his span back upon the trail
that would lead him back to the main road to Chizum and past the caged boy,
Jorthun. He was totally unaware of the wheels he had set in motion with his
promise to free an innocent boy.