Riyan brought them to a halt as the horsemen drew near. “Think this is trouble?” he asked Bart.
“I wouldn’t think so,” he replied. “We’ve done nothing wrong and Byrdlon isn’t officially at war yet. They most likely want to know what we’re doing.”
Of the twenty riders approaching them, five were quite young. Seth made the comment that they must be some of the Recruits turned Armsmen that the Guild had sent down to the border as per Duke Knor’s request. The rider in the fore of the group was an older man with a smart looking uniform whose insignia marked him as a captain. Obviously a career soldier and leader of the group.
As the riders drew close, Riyan waved to the leader and said, “Good day to you Captain.”
Coming to a halt the captain replied, “And to you sir.”
“Is there a problem?” Bart asked.
“Not that I’m aware,” the captain replied. The way he said it made it sound like there should have been a ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence. “What brings you down this road?”
“On our way to Hylith,” Riyan replied. “We are agents for a merchant who is interested in procuring a contract for a certain wine that he’s heard has recently become available.”
The captain glanced to Riyan then at the group behind him. He took special note of Kevik and his staff. “You’ll not find any welcome in Hylith,” he told them. “They don’t care much for those of us from north of the border.”
“So we understand,” Bart said. “But surely they would tolerate an agent whose only purpose is to increase trade?”
“Never know with them,” the captain said. “Bloodthirsty and treacherous they are.” Then he caught sight of Seth and Soth. Moving his horse forward, he passed by Riyan and came to them.
Before he had a chance to speak, Seth said, “We are not Tribesmen though we understand our appearance is similar. My brother and I are members of the Gilbeth Warrior Guild and our father is in service to Lord Dreaden of Gilbeth.”
The captain mulled that over for a moment, most likely deciding whether to believe them or not.
“Could you tell us how far it is to the border?” Riyan asked.
The captain gave Seth and Soth another once over then returned his attention to Riyan. “Several miles to the south you will find the village of Marl Crest. It marks the beginning of the area disputed by both sides. Another ten miles after that you’ll cross over what we consider to be their northern border.”
“Is it safe?” asked Soth.
“I would never assume to be safe once past Marl Crest,” the captain advised. “Tribesmen raiders quite often roam through the area. It wouldn’t be in your best interest to be discovered by such.”
“But aren’t there Byrdlon patrols?” asked Chyfe. He still remembered what the couple had said about Duke Knor’s soldiers, how they never seemed to be where the Raiders were.
The captain glanced at him. “It’s a large area son,” he said. “It would be impossible for us to be everywhere at once.”
Chyfe’s face turned grim. That wasn’t what he had wanted to hear.
Turning his attention back to Riyan, the captain said, “Just be careful. We wouldn’t want to find your bodies rotting on the side of the road.”
“Don’t worry,” Bart said. “I’m sure we can hold our own if it were to come to that, which I’m sure it won’t.”
The captain sat there a moment in thought. Then he said, “Good luck to you then. I hope your dealings go well for you.” Turning about, he signaled for his men to follow as he started riding off toward the east.
“Cheerful fellow,” commented Chad.
“Dead bodies indeed,” snorted Seth. “What does he think we are? Helpless?”
“Most traders are,” Soth replied. “Of course, we are not your run of the mill traders either.”
Seth laughed. “You got that right.”
They resumed their trek south. For the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, they were the only ones on the road. Keeping to a leisurely pace, they didn’t come to Marl Crest until the sun was nearing the horizon. Before the buildings of Marl Crest came into view, farmsteads began dotting the landscape. The occasional local could be seen out in the fields doing what they could to prepare their fields for the coming of spring.
The actual village of Marl Crest wasn’t all that big. A chandler’s shop, tavern, inn, and half a dozen auxiliary buildings were it. The locals were of Byrdlon stock. None had the darker skin of tribesmen.
“Kind of small don’t you think?” asked Riyan as he took in the village.
Bart nodded. Then he pointed off to their right. “That could be the reason,” he said.
A graveyard sat ringed by a wooden rail fence. From the markers in the ground, there were several score buried there. Quite a few of the markers looked relatively new.
“Think Raiders hit this place every once in a while?” asked Riyan.
“It’s possible,” answered Bart.
“Then why stay?” asked Chad.
“It’s their home,” replied Bart. “Most people would rather stay in a bad situation than face the unknown. And who’s to say if they moved their lot would be any better?”
“At least here they have the opportunity to gain coins from travelers like us,” Soth said.
Riyan cast another glance toward the graveyard just before they rode into Marl Crest and wondered about that. The first building they came to was the inn which had been kept up nicely despite the charred sections that spoke of a fire sometime in its past. “No sense pushing on further tonight,” he said.
“No,” agreed Bart. “Who knows when we’ll see another inn before reaching Hylith?” Dismounting, he and Riyan entered the inn to see about rooms. Inside, they found an elderly woman speaking with a much younger one. Actually, yelling would be a more accurate term.
“…is this boy?” the elderly lady yelled.
“He cares for me!” shouted the girl. “Doesn’t that matter?”
“No, it doesn’t” replied the elderly lady. A stern look got on her face. “If you don’t tell me who this boy is, I’ll…”
“Ahem.” Riyan cleared his throat to announce their presence. The lady and the girl both turned in their direction.
When the elder of the two saw they had visitors, she said to the younger, “Get off to your room now.”
Sobbing, the younger raced for the door leading into the back and quickly disappeared.
Sighing a tired sigh, the elderly woman crossed over to where Bart and Riyan waited. There was very little energy in her step, almost as if she was about to collapse.
“Problems?” asked Riyan. Riyan could see that the poor old lady was tired, both physically and emotionally
“Nothing that a good swift kick in the rump wouldn’t fix,” she replied with a glance through which the girl had gone. “Can I help you sirs?”. “We are in need of rooms,” he said.
“And stalls for our horses,” added Bart.
The old lady nodded. “Welcome to The Crest,” she said. “It’s three coppers a room plus another for each horse.”
Riyan was surprised it was so cheap. “We’ll take seven rooms and an equal number of stalls,” he said. Digging out the coins he handed them over to her.
“Very well,” she said as the coins disappeared into a pocket. “Dinner will be served shortly after sundown,” she explained.
“That will be fine,” replied Riyan. “Thank you.”
The old lady again nodded before turning about. Her shoulders almost seemed to sag as she crossed the room toward the door through which the younger girl had passed.
Riyan and Bart headed back outside. “Feel sorry for her,” commented Riyan.
“The old lady or the younger?” Bart asked.
“The older of course,” clarified Riyan. “She seemed so tired and sad.”
“Wait until you have kids,” Bart said and gave him a wink.
“I suppose,” replied Riyan. But if that’s the way of it, he hoped that day would be long in coming.
Outside, they rejoined the others and took their horses around back to the stable. While they were getting their horses settled in, quiet sobbing could be heard coming from the back.