A crossroads, XII Harfesting, Pentian Year Nine Hundred and Seven. None.
Clement, Coric, Hamral, St. James, Mendelor, Friar Sidrach Landry, Valerius, Sir Will Garnfellow.
Valerius paces back and forth, his lanky form stretched tall and stiff. He turns to Hamral, St. James, and Friar Sidrach, his eyes flashing.
“And what exactly would your ‘new’ plan be?” he asks, but immediately continues without pause. “Oh, do speak up! You’ve had all week to contrive behind my back. I’m sure the results must be quite extraordinary. Wait! I’ve changed my mind—don’t tell me, let me guess—your plan is… LET’S JUST RUN AWAY SOMEWHERE!
“No—wait, lads, I apologize. I can, of course, see your point. After all, I have already considered all the options that our current predicament presents for us. And I also contemplated disappearing for a while. But not until we had at least surveyed the Lownell situation.
“It’s true that the Lordship is a dangerous enemy, but so is Godwin and his mysterious master. As Hamral has said, we are indeed caught between the forge and the fire. Our only possible sanctuary from Godwin’s influence is that place the minstrels have so fancifully named the Blackwell. We would have to go quickly and quietly—no bragging about who we are, no bar room brawls, and no roadside robberies.
“Ah, my son,” says the friar. “I must apologize for misleading you. But it sounds like you can see the reasons to our decision. There’s no need for us to go to Lownell. No need at all.”
But Valerius holds up his hand.
“It is a sensible plan to go to the Blackwell. And such a move might indeed might prove to be very profitable for all of us. I have every intention of joining you there.
“But first, I will—at the very least—see the interior of the Baronet of Lownell’s abode. All that I ask is that when you travel to the next town, wait for me for two days. Then, if I do not show up or send you a message… continue on. Once you have reached Saxdal wait one more day before you book passage on a ship for the Blackwell.
“My reasoning is thus: suffice it to say that my personal experience has demonstrated that, once you have made a compact with some… one—be it the Shaithim Themselves—you should see the obligation through. Further, the very notion of having as stealthful an assassin as Godwin’s master always looming over my back is something I cannot live with.”
“I’m with Valerius,” says Mendelor. “The only way to get out of our current troubles is to go to Lownell, steal what we need to, and then find a way to defeat Godwin.”
“I’ll go as well,” says Coric quietly.
“Yes, on to Lownell and victory!” cries Garnfellow.
“This discussion does not concern you, Lord Girth,” growls Mendelor.
“As for me,” says Clement, “I too will go to Lownell. It is rare that a humble scholar like myself enjoys a lord’s hospitality. Even if must pretend to be a fat fool’s lackey.”
“It is agreed then,” says Valerius. “The rest of you continue on. Wait in the next town for two days; if you hear no other word, press on to Saxdal.”
The Wayward Minstrel Inn in the Village of New Hull, XIV Harfesting, Pentian Year Nine Hundred and Seven. After Vespers.
Hamral, St. James, Friar Sidrach Landry.
“Well,” says Friar Sidrach, “Two days have passed and no sign of our friends. Mayhap, my sons, we should wait one more day, just to be safe?”
“No,” says Hamral. “We agreed to two days. If trouble has come to them, then trouble will soon be on our heels. We need to put some distance between us and Lownell.”
“Oh relax,” says St. James, leaning back on his stool and taking a sip of ale. “Knowing Valerius, he’ll soon walk right through that door, full of his usual mysterious nonsense.”
Just then, the door to the Wayward Minstrel’s common room opens. Valerius, Coric, and Mendelor enter, cautiously glance around, and proceed directly to the table. Hamral and the Friar shoot a questioning look at St. James, but the young man only grins and raises his cup in reply.
“Well met, lads,” says Mendelor, quietly.
“Well met,” says Friar Sidrach. “Where are Clement and Sir Garnfellow?”
“They remain in Lownell,” says Valerius.
“A pity, that,” says St. James.
“Well,” says Friar Sidrach, “do tell us what happened.”
“We were able to insinuate ourselves within the Baronet’s manor with minimal difficulty,” begins Valerius. “Garnfellow actually demonstrated moderate worth. Lownell gladly welcomed Sir Girth, and the rest of us were able to move freely throughout the manor.”
“So, were you able to find whatever the hell it was that Godwin sent us after?” asks St. James. Valerius frowns.
“No; we did not find anything in the entire manor that seemed particularly valuable. Lownell is a relatively poor lord, it would seem. His domain is meager, with poor fields and the Ruckish Hills nearby. I cannot fathom what the object of our mission could have been.”
“So what was this Lownell like? He couldn’t be too bright to be taken in by Garnfellow,” says St. James.
“He is not… overly dim,” says Valerius. “But he is an old man, with many cares. His wife died several years ago; he seemed to find our rotund companion an amusing diversion.”
Mendelor nods. “I spoke with the Baronet’s huntsman. He said that Lownell was a kind and generous man, for a lord.”
“Who else was there?” asks St. James.
“Lownell has two sons—Steven and Edgar,” replies Valerius. “Both men are young knights, unmarried and rambunctious, given to causing much mischief.”
“Well,” says Mendelor, “The huntsman claimed that there’s a third son of Lownell as well, a bastard in both meanings of the word, who is doted upon by the Baronet.”
“I heard of no such thing,” says Valerius, but the forester can only shrug.
“That’s it?” exclaims St. James. “We’ve waited two days and this is all you’ve uncovered? Lownell manor doesn’t sound like a very dangerous place”
“Well then, maybe you should have gone yourself,” says Mendelor.
“Maybe I should have!” says St. James.
“It matters not, my sons,” says Friar Sidrach, his voice calm and soothing. “The pressing question at hand is, what do we do now?”
Valerius nods. “Yes, what do we do now?”
“What about Clement and Garnfellow?” asks Hamral. Mendelor throws up his hands in response.
“Neither are interested in heading for the Blackwell. Clement’s got Cynthia in Heremac, and Garnfellow’s got… Well, I guess Garnfellow’s got the Boar. In any case, they plan to stay at Lownell until they’re thrown out on their asses. Which might not be that long coming, the way Garnfellow eats and Clement drinks.”
“A difficult decision,” mutters Friar Sidrach. “Most difficult. Do we reunite with our friends at Lownell, or do we press on to the Blackwell?”