Chapter 3
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I never thought I would eventually get used to Skum’s stench. The day I met him, that awful mixture of bad cheese and body odor made my eyes water. No amount of bathing or remedies helped. His stink was a mystery. Some called it a disease, others a curse. He was born with it, I heard, and was abandoned by his parents because of it. Like me, he took to the life of fighting, adopting an appropriate nickname in the process. It was awful, but like anything, you became numb to it after a while. Besides the stink, we both bonded over our similar upbringings and he always stood by my side during a fight. In this world, such loyalty is as rare as diamonds.
The trouble we went through to get the fire going would be worth it. Skum roasted the fish and then used his carving dagger to cut us all a piece. I took a bite of mine. The skin was crispy, and the meat was juicy. We wolfed down our portions, talking and joking about the noble. That was the best we had eaten in months.
Once we were finished, we all lay down around the fire, ready to settle in for the night. I almost fell asleep when Skum started talking: “That was delightful,” he said. “Can’t remember the last time we ate so well. Hey, Hogfarmer, remind me how much coin that man gave you?”
I heard the big man rummage noisily through the purse. “Fifteen copper pieces. It ain’t much, but he did say he could get us a discount at that place. I think we deserve something even better than that fish!” We all cheered at that. Looking over, I saw Skum smile and laugh greedily. “I’ll be dreaming of roast duck and fresh bread tonight, boys. What say we go to, what was it…The Dove’s Perch first thing tomorrow?”
I hoped we would be heading there. The fish was excellent, and I was craving more. When I got older and relied less on moldy scraps of bread, I became a bit greedier for food. To pass the time until morning, I dreamed of those delicious cakes made by the baker all those years ago.
We awoke to a still, cloudy morning, and began moving along the riverbank. Once we forded it, we only had to march a little further until we found The Dove’s Rest nestled at the base of a small hill. The river wrapped behind it, vanishing from view.
The building was three stories high, taller than the hill. The walls were made of smooth beechwood, while the tiles on the roof above were painted green. Gold-framed windows lined the exterior. The color scheme made it look like some giant dessert. That made me even greedier than I already was. Hoppe approached and shoved his way in. Upon entry, I was greeted with a blast of heat. A massive stone hearth sat at the back of the room. A couple of braziers were set up near the door. They were burning with Southern Dunes herbs, making the air inside smell peppery as well as smokey. Hoppe led us toward the bar. We walked along fur rugs spread out beneath long trestle tables. There was one man sitting near the fireplace, a courier by the looks of it. He wore simple clothes and had a huge sack of letters slung over his back. He sipped his drink, averting his eyes from us.
The bartender behind the counter crinkled his nose when we approached. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said nervously. He was old and bald, his voice was raspy. “What brings you here?”
Hogfarmer handed the purse to Hoppe. “Greetings,” the old warrior said. “We would like a room and some drink. I was told by Nigel Northbrush that we would be offered a discount.”
The bartender suppressed a laugh. “Sorry to say this, gentlemen, but you have been tricked. House Northbrush has long been disgraced, and that pathetic little man holds no sway with me. As soon as he came in this morning, I had the cook throw him out to the stables. Forgive me, but I refuse to provide a discount in his name.”
Hoppe shrugged in agreement. “Understandable. How much will it be for all, then?”
“Eleven copper pieces.” Judging by his worried look, I assumed he would have charged more. We had no intentions of hurting someone of his class-that wasn’t our style-but we were always appreciative of a little extra ‘gratitude’. “The room on the top floor at the far end of the hall will be yours. What wine do you lot enjoy?”
“Grape,” Skum said. “Apple,” Hogfarmer and The Boil said in unison. Once Hoppe put the money on the counter, we went up the adjacent stairs leading up to the rooms. As we had hoped, we were given feather beds-two large ones at both sides of a great window looking over the hill. A bowl of fruit lay on a great mahogany table before us. My brothers lunged for it. They picked apart the apples and plums like crabs, getting juice all over the table.
Soon after, the old man entered with six bottles of wine-three apple and three grape-under one arm and a bunch of cups in the other. He set them in front of us. My brothers howled in delight. Hogfarmer, our biggest drinker, poured everyone a serving of their preference. I took grape, then sat back and sipped quietly.
The wine was drained at a fast rate. The Boil took out a pack of playing cards he kept with him. He started a game with Skum, Hogfarmer, and Fingers, in which they would have to finish a cup after every round. Not long after that began, they turned rowdy.
Skum claimed The Boil cheated, and then got his head bashed into the table. He swung his fist, missed, and took a punch to the face. The two wrestled across the bear skin rug over to a reading chair by one of the beds. Skum kicked The Boil into it, smashing one of the legs. Hogfarmer got up to join the fun. Hoppe looked at them with disinterest, as did I. Such incidents were common among members of The Brotherhood, but as of late, they were becoming too frequent. If they weren’t playing cards games, my brothers were wasting their time fighting among themselves like children. I finished my cup and then excused myself. Hoppe waved me away.
I left the room as soon as Skum jumped on the bed, flinging pillows and sheets everywhere. I walked down the stairs and left the building, circling around to the stable in the back. The stall at the very end was the only one occupied, though not by a horse. Instead, it was Nigel, curled up on a bed of hay. One of his sandals was missing, and there was a huge tear in the back of his doublet. His head was buried under his arms. He was weeping faintly.
I kicked him. He jumped, flinging hay all over the place. He threw his hands up and then lowered them when he saw I wasn’t the cook. “Oh,” he groaned, “it’s you…what’s your name?”
“Mutt,” I told him.
“Having fun with my coin?”
“My Brother’s certainly are. They will be requesting more wine soon enough, I’ll bet.”
The Noble sighed. “You have tasted just a glimpse of all the luxuries I have lost.” He dusted himself off and fixed his hair. He sat on one elbow, looking up at me. “Care to help me win some of it back?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve come to see what your offer is all about.”
“I’ve tasted the drink they have on offer at this inn. Awful stuff, truth be told. Weak aroma, no balance, and no care put into its production. You want the finer stuff, don’t you?”
“It all tastes the same to me, truth be told.”
Nigel cracked a smile, then wiped it away. “I’m sure it does. We have different tastes, considering our backgrounds. However, you appear to be a wise man, Mutt. Surely, you know Seawatch’s finer wines are worth quite a bit.”
I didn’t have to respond to that statement, so the noble continued. “Sadly, all of my family’s vineyards are now under the control of the bloated Maven Whitesands. If word is true, one of his caravans is coming through this region as we speak. It is heading toward Far Rock.” “You want a suicide mission, then?” I said. “Those caravans have small armies guarding them."
Nigel shook his head. “You don’t understand. The crown has laid heavy taxes on the nobility to pay off exuberant debts. Curse that pointless excursion into the Million Isles…anyway, Maven has taken a hit to his defenses because of this.”
Fighters were costly, that was true. “How many do they have defending each caravan, do you think?”
“Assuming he is using the same standard my father did, Maven would normally have around 40 defenders for each one. With recent cuts, I’d guess that may be around 20. It could be a little less than that, could be a little more, but The Brotherhood should have no trouble putting them down.”
“You're right about that," I told him. "But what do you plan on giving us in return?"
The noble got to his feet. "I cannot compensate you with much at the moment, but you will get a large share of the spoils, obviously. When we are victorious, there will be even more in store for you gentlemen."
It was against my better nature to consider his offer. A royal like him was a sworn enemy to The Brotherhood, and to myself. I thought about how Hoppe would react, then I recounted all of our accomplishments over these past few months. Embarrassingly, catching the fish had been our greatest victory in recent memory. I couldn't live with that.
“I like the odds,” I told him. “I’ll need a little more money, however. I know you’re hiding some.” Elites always had a little extra tucked away somewhere on their body.
Nigel sighed. He reached through the tear in his shirt and felt around his chest for a moment. He took out one more copper crown and tossed it to me.
I caught it, and then thanked him. A scheme began to brew in my head as I turned back for the inn.
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