Devran rubbed his hands together, all the while chastising himself for not bringing warmer clothing. Winter was fast approaching, he should have been better prepared.

“Here,” With a large hand, Samn passed him a waterskin. His friend was a head taller than him and half larger.

The smell of alcohol hit Devran’s nose as soon as the cork was removed. He took a mouthful and felt his insides heating up. Then it heated up some more, and more until everything was burning. He wondered if instead of liquor this wasn’t actually vitriol and returned it amid coughs. He’d rather endure the cold.

“Luptak’s Spirits. None of that dog piss you all drink,” Samn laughed. 

Devran wagered that not even piss would be as horrible as that. He and his party rode their horses east towards Greenflower. After following the black woman’s directions, they soon reached the road and were out of the forest half an hour later.

“How do you think it’ll go?” His friend asked without the usual smile.

“It’ll be fine. Hopefully. Let’s just hope no one dies today.”

Devran had planned to visit Garrel Selter, baron of Greenflower, to see if the man would aid his family’s interests. More specifically, there were talks of an alliance between Earl Hagen Westbrook from Rochdale and the Skanler Bastard.

Devran doubted such a thing would happen considering the differences between the two Earls, but he would rather not take any chances. He hoped to convince as many of their vassals as possible to stand against such an alliance. Because there was only one reason those two would do that; to quell his parents’ growing rebellion.

Samn just nodded and the two went the rest of the way in silence. Soon, they could see the small town, and it looked just as he expected; backward, ugly and dirty.

There were no walls, not even a palisade. Despite its small size there was still a lack of guards. And for whatever reason, the houses were all clustered together. Wooden buildings with thatch roofs all close to one another. It was like the people wanted the town to be as unsafe and indefensible as possible.

Better for him, he guessed, if anything went wrong and he had to escape.

After making their way through the town’s narrow, unpaved roads, Devran and his followers arrived at the town square.

It smelled. Even worse than the rest of town.

At the square’s center was an improvised scaffold most likely used for executions. Usually, though, the body was removed afterward. Scattered atop the platform were the rotten pieces of what used to be a person.

From the various whip marks across the black skin, Devran knew the man had been a slave. But even then, this punishment sounded excessive.

“Hey,” someone called from behind him. 

Devran turned to find a black-bearded man dressed in a brown tunic. “Good morning Barton.”

Like himself and Samn, Barton was also a Crusader. Devran sent him ahead of the rest to gather whatever information he could about the town.

“Good morning,” Barton greeted back. “I don’t think it’s a good time to try talking to the baron.”

“I’m guessing it’s related to the dead man.”

“That’s right. I didn’t know his name, but he was a slave serving the baron’s family,” Barton glanced at the platform, “up until recently.”

“What happened?”

“Varn and Borin, the baron’s sons, both went out hunting yesterday. Borin got spooked by something, had a close shave with a beast I would bet. The important thing is that they returned earlier than expected. Earlier than Varn’s wife expected.”

“No,” Devran lamented.

“Yes,” Samn laughed.

“He found the two of them in bed. Even if just a distant cousin, the woman is still a Westbrook, so she couldn’t be touched. Which means the slave received the whole punishment and here’s the aftermath.”

“Var-Varn the cuckold!” Samn cracked up, attracting the attention of the passersby.

Devran was about to tell him to shut up, but Braton beat him to the punch. With a punch to Samn’s arm.

“What was that for?”

“Show some respect for the dead man.”

“And why do you care about it?”

“Care? I admire him. The man survives his tribe's destruction, gets enslaved, is dragged for thousands of kilometers from his home under leash and whippings with barely any food or water and a scorching sun above. And he survives it all. Instead, he dies planting a pair of antlers on his owner’s head. Talk about sticking it to someone.”

“Yeah, sticking it good-” Samn received another punch before he could laugh at his own dumb joke. “But if you ask me, that’s just how they are. These black people, they live and die for sex. As for Varn, he’s not just a cuckold but also an idiot. He makes a show of killing the guy for everyone to see and know what happened. Those antlers must have grown into his brain.”

As his friends talked, Devran wondered about the situation at hand. Perhaps Barton was right and they should try it another day. The thought was squashed as soon as it entered his mind. There wouldn't be another day, their schedule was already tight enough as it was. It was now or never.

He opened his mouth to speak just as the town’s bell tolled and almost flinched. Did something go wrong? Was the baron aware he was coming and had set up a trap? Maybe that's why he saw no guards around town. The bell tolled again. And again, six more times. It was eight in the morning.

“So, are we leaving?” Samn asked.

“No,” Devran spoke, “I’m still going.”

“What? You still want us to go there?”

“Not us. Me alone.” He pulled Samn and Barton closer and whispered, “take the rest of the guys to the tavern and wait for me. If I’m not back by noon, then break into two groups and create as much chaos as possible. Samn, you kill everyone you see in your way. Barton, you loot and set the buildings on fire.”

They both nodded and Devran looked across the square. Atop a mound sat Greenflower castle, but it wasn't really accurate to call it that. It was just a stone keep, and not particularly large at that. Still, it was the only place remotely defensible in this town.

Devran walked up to the entrance where a pair of guards stood. One was nodding off while the other had his weapon propped against the keep’s side, too busy cleaning the grit under his fingernails. Devran was already at arm’s length from them when the second one finally noticed his presence.

“Yes?”

“Greetings, my name is Devran Marar, and I’d like to speak to the baron.”

The man simply glanced at his clothes and yelled to wake up his companion. “Hey! Big nose! Go with this guy, he wants to see the baron.”

The one called big nose rubbed the sand out of his eyes and asked, “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because I’m telling you to, now go on before I hit you.”

Big nose grumbled, “fine,” and spoke to Devran, “follow me.” 

The two didn’t even bother to hold onto his sword. Devran had been worried if it was a good idea to try and sway the baron to their cause. Now he wondered if he should have even bothered.

He was led to a small dining room where a frail-looking old man sat hunched over a plate.

“M’lord,” big nose spoke, “there’s a visitor.”

Garrel raised his head and squinted his eyes to look at Devran. “Oh, good morning. I’m sorry young man, but this isn’t a good time. Family problems, you see.”

“I’m aware and most sorry for the disturbance, but I have something important to talk about.”

“Is that so?” The old man munched on a piece of bread. “Well, sit down then and tell me what’s so important.”

Devran sat down across from the baron and, for what was worth, big nose finally did something right and stood behind him.

“Would you like something to eat?” Garrel offered the plate with bread, cheese, ham, and bacon.

Devran grabbed a bacon strip solely to not appear uncourteous.

“So, how may I help you lad?”

“First, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Devran Marar.”

“That’s an unusual surname. I wonder where I heard it before,” Garrel reached for a cheese cube when he seemed to realize something. He took another look at Devran, “that’s right, you’re the son of-” He held himself back from finishing his sentence.

Devran wondered who the old man had thought about. Was it his father, Vasilis? Of course, that wasn’t how he was known these days. The man with no cock, Eunuch, Neutered, Castrated and half a dozen other names that all meant the same thing. Those were more accurate.

Or maybe his mother, Anna, known as… worse names.

“Your parents served Earl Skanler.” The baron finally said after a long pause.

“The late Earl, yes. Things are quite different regarding his son, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, yes. Regardless, he’s still an Earl, and he set quite a generous bounty on you and your parents. How do you know I won’t turn you over to him?” 

There was a slight clink of metal behind Devran, the type of which when you grip the sword hilt and it presses against the scabbard. So at least he was sure that big nose hadn’t fallen asleep.

Acting as if he didn’t hear it, Devran answered, “because I know you’re not a fool, my lord, and only a fool would trust that snake’s generosity. For six decades my parents served under his father, and as soon as he inherited the coronet he… did what he did. All because of a perceived slight, years prior.” Devran took a deep breath. “Maybe he would reward you, but he’s just as likely to accuse you of treason, massacre your House and sack the town for good measure.”

Garrel stared him dead in the eye and Devran stared back. The seconds seemed to drag out forever before the baron finally slumped back in his chair. He glanced behind Devran and there was another clink of metal.

The baron took a bite of a piece of bread. “So, now that that is out of the way I ask again, how may I help you?”

“I would like your help...”

More than three hours had passed when he finally came out of the keep. The old baron agreed to stand against the alliance, but just as long others did it first. Didn’t want to be the first to stick out his neck. That was still better than nothing for Devran. Now he had to hurry and stop his men from wreaking havoc in the town.

He ran down to the square and the tavern where his men were. 

Outside of the building, Samn stood alone watching over their horses. “Took you long enough. Was starting to think I would need to bring you out of there.” He patted Devran on the shoulder.

“He was reluctant at first, but the Skanler’s growing reputation worked in our favor. And why are you here instead of drinking inside?”

“I told you, I don’t like that piss you all drink,” he took a swig from his waterskin. “Besides, I was worried about you.”

Devran smiled, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So, are we leaving?”

“Yeah.”

They still had to visit another town, and then head to their outpost.