Death to the Grand Guild
The Tale of a Mercenary 2

6

The Tale of a Mercenary 2

A lad had brought food moments ago as he reached for some warm bread, enjoying it as he was starving. He had just put on clean linens, a tunic, and breeches then was finishing his hair when the noise disturbed him.

The sound of footsteps was heavy from a distance. Edmund thought it odd that a group would be in such haste.

Edmund could hear them on his floor now. It was several men, he judged, and an odd fear crept inside him. He was compelled to grab his bow, along with his dirk hanging in its scabbard on a hook along the wall.

He fastened the belt as the rumbling of boots passed by and he heard a crashing sound. Edmund peeked out as he cracked open the door of his quarters. There were four of them, and they had blades drawn, forcing their way into Peregrine’s room.

A panic hit him; he couldn’t wait for his mates. Inside he had to find courage, and he had to find it now, opening his door and watching as their momentum crashed the door open. He could hear slurs from Camille as the intrusion astonished them.

Edmund focused on the backside of the trailing brigand. He was at the door’s entrance as the others were inside. Not a tall man, the smallest of the lot, and Edmund had his arrow aimed at him.

He let the shaft fly, and it buried into the back of the man’s head. His momentum went forward into the threshold, then he dropped to one knee before giving way to the floor between the doorway, never moving again.

He lacked the time to fire another shaft. There was a tight feeling in his gut, knowing he had to help fight them with his dirk, springing suddenly and taking it out of its sheath. Edmund ran with it clenched in his hand, fear was weighing on him, but he could not cower now.

Dashing to the healer’s door, he could see they were battling inside. The first two had encountered Camille, she had cut the one in the lead, seeing the man falling forward.

The ambush was happening so fast as he advanced inside. Peregrine had turned to face the attackers, the second man slashing down with his dirk, piercing Camille’s leathers as she wailed.

The trailing man had a clear path to Peregrine with a three-foot stabbing sword raised as he pushed the healer into the chest they had miserably endured since they left Breeston.

It was sitting on the table behind as the chest toppled over, opening as items scattered, garments, sacks, and weapons, a bow he thought, but as more items spilled from the chest’s bottom, he noticed the bones of a human being among the debris.

The sight struck him odd, but his thoughts went back to Peregrine, who was reaching for something concealed upon him as Edmund was closing in on the attacker. He fought on instinct, shoving his dirk into the brigand’s backside. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The man screamed, but so did Edmund. He noticed something gritty, his eyes aflame and welling with tears. His vision was blinded, struggling to find his breath, but he tried to stab forward again.

His motion stopped, believing he bit leather with his dirk, his nostrils burned a fiery ache and a feeling of nausea struck him, losing his balance and then collapsing on the wood floor. Uncontrolled, he kicked and convulsed. His muscles were in a spasm, and the worst was in his chest.

Helpless, unable to see, and dreading that someone would cut him down, he tried in desperation to stab and stab, hoping to evade the inevitable.

Edmund waited for the pain of crude steel to kill him, but all he heard were screams, ringing emphatically in his ears, and his being the loudest.

A crushing thunk bellowed as someone fell on top of him, then a heavy thud as another had fallen beside him, silencing the screams, except the sound of his wails, and then they ended when his neck tightened as if he were drowning.

“Edmund.” The sound was Peregrine’s voice. “Please stop moving your hand and drop the dirk so I can help you.”

He tried to speak, but his face was not responding. Nothing was responding and he could feel a strong grip upon his wrist.

“You’re going to smell something odd; do not worry, it will help,” Peregrine told him as something felt cool upon his eyes, and the smell was rancid as he could feel Camille grasp his shoulders, trying to restrain him. “Please be calm, Edmund,” she said in an alarmed manner.

He could hardly breathe as he gasped for air, and then he felt a warm tingle, relaxing his muscles as his body uncoiled, then he went into the black.

It seemed like minutes had passed as he gasped in fright. He could hear something stirring, unaware of what was around him.

His head was throbbing and his arms were bound in linens, he believed, but he thanked the gods he could breathe again. Trying to move his hand, he could feel his wrists in fetters. He tried to lift one leg, then a voice caught his ears.

“Stay still, lad, try not to be alarmed. You are in your quarters, but until you answer my questions, you’re being detained,” a voice told him.

“Who are you, sir?” Edmund struggled to ask. His throat was raw and his lips felt swollen. He then coughed, repeating his words as his tongue felt foreign when he tried to talk.

“I am Courtney Riggins, lead sergeant of the constables.”

“The others?” he asked in a pained rasp, coughing again while his ribs ached.

“I will answer your questions, but not until you answer mine. I’m not alone, so don’t struggle. There is a scribe here to record our words. I am ordered to investigate what you saw, and what you did,” the sergeant explained.

“Now tell me what happened first.”

Edmund was petrified, and he couldn’t open his eyes. They felt matted shut, and pain shot through his face like a swarm of hornets stinging him endlessly. He needed answers, but he had to keep his wits and comply with this stranger. But he felt ignorant of why he was confined.

“I heard men running.” His words were strained, but he continued after many deep breaths. “They forced entry into our employer’s to rob him.”

“Stop.” Courtney interrupted. “Your employer, what do you know of him? I will tell you once, do not lie. My men are gathering information from the others, so it’s in your best interest, to be honest.”

“Others? My brother was downstairs,” Edmund strained to ask, remembering the last moments before he blacked out. “Is he—”

“Quiet. I will inform you about that later. You answer my questions.”

Edmund felt he needed to lie, but what lie could he tell him? He was thirsty, his nerves frazzled, and dreading his brother was dead, his mates, surely Camille was.

He thought of his father, his uncle. What would they do in such a situation? He decided some truth was his only option.

“They hired the four of us in Breeston. We were to accompany them to Lonoke.” His words were slow from the lingering agony he felt. “I only know he is a healer, and his apprentice is more of a sworn sword. That’s all they have told us, that’s all I know.”

“Do you believe him? We have statements from others that he was a merchant from Ethelly. Do you have anything to say about that?”

A merchant from Ethelly? They have talked to those foragers or was it his brother or Julius repeating his lie? And the bones?

“I believe nothing he has told us, what little that’s been,” Edmund says, coughing again while he groans from the misery of his injuries.

“Why would anyone assault him? Why does he feel he needs four armed men to escort him?” Courtney’s voice went higher. He was getting anxious, he thought.

“He is wealthy, and has thrown coin about generously in front of many eyes.”

“What was he paying you and the others?”

“Does that matter?” His replies were tiring him.

“Answer the question!” Courtney snapped back.

“Fifty falcons a man,” Edmund winced as he answered, then coughed. His throat felt as if he’d swallowed needles, and he could taste blood.

Edmund heard another voice mutter the word bollocks, as it mocked him. “No more outbursts!” The sergeant yelled aloud, then composed himself back to his dry tone.

“That is a steep price for any mercenary, don’t you think? And you don’t look the sort — you’re not the typical Panhead. Who are you, lad, and where are you from?”

Edmund didn’t want to tell him that, but he was in a compromising situation. Had they searched him and found his parchment from his uncle? He couldn’t risk lying to the man. He needed to know about the others.

“I am Edmund Parsons. There’s a larger man in our group that favours me, my brother, Harwin. We are sons of Lord Truitt Parsons and nephews to High Lord Argyle Parsons from Hayston.”

Edmund was interrupted by laughter. There were two voices this time, and the sergeant lost his temper. “Silence, you two idiots! The two of you go to the other interview, go to Sergeant Pillars now and send him to me! When you’re done with that, go muck the stables. I will have words with the two of you later!”

He could hear grumbling among his mockers as his ears detected the door opening, the closing as the surrounding became quiet.

“My apologies for my men, they are young like you but lack your manners. I have been watching over you for the past two days,” Courtney said.

“You’ve been allowed treatment by this man, Peregrine. He is being detained by my captain. I will give you some personal relief: your brother is well.”

Edmund felt relief, thanking the gods as he felt the weariness of the inquiry weighing on him. He needed more rest as Courtney continued.

“The two commoners, are they friends of yours? You would have to admit that isn’t the kind of companions two sons of a Hayston lord would associate with.”

“It is a difficult explanation,” Edmund replied slowly.

“Oh, how difficult?” A knock on the door intruded the questioning, reprieving Edmund as he could hear another man walk inside.

“I have their statement, quite the tale,” a voice said. “Here’s the parchment from the scribe, sir.”

“Where did you take them?” Courtney asked the other man.

“They are being detained. The men they encountered are being looked at — well, some are. They are these brigands, Yellah Hands. I don’t know-.”

“I had suspected.” Courtney intrudes on the other. “And the captain still has the healer?”

“Yes. He has sent everyone away, even the scribe, sir,” the voice answered.

“What? That is strange. Did the scribe have their statement with him?” Courtney asked.

“He was sent out with nothing. Those were his specific orders.”

Courtney’s voice sounded miffed, the man was grumbling as Edmund heard the other sergeant leave when the door closed. It was quiet, and in the darkness, he imagined Courtney thought that something was out of sorts.

“You’re a man who likes to follow procedure. It has changed, hasn’t it?” Edmund asked him sensing something has puzzled the sergeant.

“I am told that you may never see again. You are in no position to make assumptions,” Courtney bit back.

Edmund declined to reply to the curt response, realizing that Courtney was a man easily offended.

Peregrine had in some way seized complete cooperation in their discretion, Edmund had guessed. The sergeant’s tone had confirmed that to him. Perhaps he had used gold to influence the captains’ inquiry.

“Do you have any more questions for me?” Edmund asked to get another read on him.

The question made Courtney stand as Edmund waited, thinking he might have angered him. “I have your brother’s statement.” The sergeant remarked while pacing. “Is there anything that you would like to change, Edmund?”

He said nothing and desperately wanted to sleep. The audience had exhausted him beyond his stamina. “Very well.” The sergeant cleared his throat, grumbling again like he was wrestling with his thoughts. “Your brother has confirmed most of what you said. I have—”

The door knocked again, disrupting the inquiry. “The captain sends you new orders.” the voice sternly informs the sergeant.

“And what are they,?” Courtney replies in a confused manner.

“Your inquiry is finished, no further questions. I am here to collect what the scribe has written.”

“What am I to do now?” Courtney asked, aghast, his words stammering as he sounded flabbergasted.

“You are to return with me. That healer has requested to treat the lad here. We are to remove his fetters.”

“We are taking orders from this bloody healer now?”

“Those are the captain’s orders. We are to feed the other captors who came along with them. Inquire them no further and hand all statements to the captain,” the sergeant told Courtney.

“This is ludicrous. We have several men dead, three more wounded, and one of them may perish before the morning! We aren’t allowed to ask why these men were assaulted. This I can’t stand for. I must speak with the captain!”

“You can speak with him later. His orders are your orders to follow. He has told me if you do not comply, then I have to arrest you at once.”

“You have men outside with you?”

“I do. You will remove the fetters and come with us.”

The change of events caused Courtney to become vulgar, then the other man yelled. They both were shouting until other voices mingled with the argument as they informed Courtney that his dismissal is certain if he didn’t comply.

He could hear footsteps leave in a rush, and the door slammed with a ringing echo, while he listened as a conflict outside was unfolding.

Courtney was yelling at someone in the hallway, other voices answered, but Edmund couldn’t make out the words as his head throbbed. The voices died down and he must have dozed, startled from a daze as he heard the door open.

“How are you, Edmund?” It was Peregrine, his voice laced with worry.

The healer’s voice made him desperate for answers. “How did you survive? Where are Harwin and my friends?” Edmund winced from the stinging around his eyes. “Please say something, damn you, man. Why am I blind?” His thoughts raced, but he lacked the strength to talk.

“We’ve been monitored since we left Breeston, I was unaware of this,” Peregrine remarked to him.

He could feel his presence as he sat near him. “That Rishard, I believe, was trying to kill your brother and the others in the tavern, while mercenaries were coming to kill me and Camille.”

“For what? What are you not telling me?” Edmund asked, trying to muster a deep strength.

“Something called a Yellow Hand? I am at a loss as to why they want us dead.” Peregrine replied, pondering, his voice frigid.

“Your brother informed the constables in his query that you two were assaulted some time back by these villains,” Peregrine informed him.

“It’s not worth burdening you with this tragedy. They are thieves, Edmund, that is all I can surmise from it.”

“I thought I heard screams from the parlour.” Edmund wanted to ask more, but he didn’t want to talk anymore. He was paralyzed with exhaustion.

“Those were from Rishard and his men,” Peregrine interrupted. “Your brother is a violent sort, killing a man and maiming Rishard.”

“The bald, stupid brute took things further. He slashed a man’s eye out, and killed a young boy with an axe.”

“I am sorry,” Edmund says, admitting they sullied the job. “We should’ve stayed in the same quarters.” He was trying to say, but it sounded like a mumble as he wanted to weep.

“It’s ok lad. You may be unaware of this, but before the assault, I had dismissed you from escorting us. An error on my part.” Peregrine regretfully says, then touched his arm.

“You proved your worth, Edmund, and I am sorry about your eyes. I had to act quickly or they would have killed all of us.” Peregrine added.

“It is a powder, a combination of two poisons that you walked into. I threw it at our attackers. It blinds a man and creates a spasm in the muscles until they stop breathing. It has confounded me that you are alive.”

“Is she-,” he winced thinking of Camille.

“I am fine, Edmund, my leathers absorbed the blade.” Edmund heard her voice and was relieved, the dumbstruck thinking back into his memories. He found it hard to believe as the blade bit deep. “I—”

“Relax lad, The bandits are dead, that’s all I can say,” Peregrine said while patting him on the shoulder.

“Don’t stress your mind anymore. You need to rest and the treatment I’ve given you needs to be duplicated. The spasms are contained, you will ache for days, but I am sorry, Edmund, that I cannot give you back your vision.”

The news was deafening. Edmund tried to prop his body up in anger, inside him a sorrow erupted, giving him strength, and threw the rag from his face. “You should have let me die then!” He used what strength he had left to raise his voice. He could feel tears, and they burned from his sockets.

“His face, Master!” Camille shouted out, and the sudden surprise startled him.

“Be still, Edmund, let me look at your wounds.” Peregrine’s hands were touching his face, and a smell of licorice hit his senses.

“I am at a loss for words — his eyes are not scorched out! They’re scabbed over with puss, but they are intact under the swelling. Camille, let me have that compress.”

“What does this mean?” Camille asked frantically.

“A touch from the mother Lupretia, that’s what it means,” Peregrine replied in excitement as he placed another linen on Edmund’s face, a sharp bite he felt when the linen pressed against him, the flesh felt tender like his eyes were full of venom.

The wound flared with heat, and his head began to sweat profusely. “Lie down, Edmund. I have made arrangements for us to leave at first light.” the healer was stuttering as he laughed aloud. “A miracle, Camille. We have witnessed a miracle!”

The compress had a sweet smell, and when it hit his nostrils, he was awash in a numbing haze. Peregrine held it tight over his head and nose as he was full of questions, but his mouth lacked the effort to make words until peace embraced him.

An abrupt shudder raced through him as Edmund awoke to feel the sun upon his face.

He could hear the clapping of horses, and the sounds of men talking at distances around him. Edmund was lying in the back of a wagon and had such a thirst, disoriented and trying to recall why he felt amiss.

“Water,” he struggled to say.

He tried to raise his hand, and he could feel another hand grab it. It was a strong hand.

“You are stirring, thank the gods,” Harwin told him. “Let me help you up, don’t do too much.”

He could feel his brother grab him by the shoulders, lifting him. His strong grip caused him discomfort as he propped him up against the side rails.

“I’m sorry about that. Drink this gently,” his brother told him.

Edmund drank. It was water, and the taste was so welcome that he tried to engulf it, choking and then coughing for moments.

The linen upon his eyes fell off, and the sun made his eyes squint as he tried to lift his hand to shield it.

“Hey!” his brother shouted. “The sun is hurting his eyes!”

Harwin put the linen back over his face. A voice called out to a halt as the wagon stopped rolling. He could feel someone climb near where he was sitting.

The linen was removed, and the bright light stunned him. Hands were pressed against his face, and a blur was in front of him with a whiff of licorice intruding his nostrils. “Peregrine?”

“I am stunned again,” the healer told him. Peregrine opened the lids on his eyes, and the pain grew sharp from the sun’s light. “Can you see, lad? Can you see anything?”

“I see a shadow and an intense light around it.”

“His eyes are caked in yellow crust.” His brother’s voice was troubled.

“That’s a good thing. They’ll be like that for a few days, I think. Who knows? The way he’s healing is uncanny, but keep this cover on them, Harwin. Here is a salve for the pus.”

Peregrine sounded happy, giddy in a fascinated way. “Edmund, you keep drinking water. You have sweat more than any man I’ve ever seen.” he chuckles then quickly informed Harwin. “Don’t let him move.”

The healer then left as he could hear his brother complain about him. “That man should tend to you instead of sitting next to that captain. He has kept the man close to him since we left at first light.” Harwin then told him to stay still as he rubbed the ointment over his eyes.

The pungent substance startled him. It smelled like cloves but it felt cool on his face. His brother then applied a fresh dark linen to aid in keeping the sun from irritating him.

He was gaining some of his strength after more gulps of water. The wagon jerked, then began rolling again, and he was near sleep when Harwin nudged him, “Drink this, brother.” It was broth with small bits of meat. “Is this Lamb?” he asked. His voice was still faint.

“It could be. It’s what’s left of the stew we had,” Harwin answered him with a slight laugh. “We had stopped to refresh the horses before you awoke. There was an inn, and the healer had the keeper provide us. You have been in and out for days.”

“Where are we, brother?”

“We are approaching Lonoke,” Harwin answered.

“I have so many questions to ask,” Edmund said, still puzzled

“You will have to whisper them to me. The captain informed us not to discuss any matters relating to what happened at the Oriole,” Harwin said softly in his ear.

“This Peregrine…I don’t know what’s been arranged between the two, but this captain is following his orders now. The term of our release is to be silent.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, brother, we’ve heard little. All I know is the men that raced past us while we were being detained by Rishard are all dead.” Harwin says calmly to him.

“Here you are, blind, yet the healer and his wench show no effects from whatever he did to you.”

“It’s the worst feeling a man could have. I couldn’t breathe, my face felt as if it was on fire—”

“Shh. We have eyes on us. We’re being escorted by an entire squadron. Peregrine is riding in a wagon up front with the captain, and our two mates are in another behind us.” Harwin was leaning his head upon his shoulder.

“That Rishard came at us with numbers, he found two more goons to add to his pack. We got the better of them, Osmond is a rough cut of cloth.” Harwin chuckled a bit.

“The constables were rattling us hard this morning. They’re angry that the captain was bent in such a fashion.”

The brothers agreed with the assumption of a bribe, but Harwin complained about the lack of concern from the captain.

He seemed oblivious to the mood of the fellow soldiers who were escorting them. Harwin was worried that they might mutiny.

“I saw queer things before I lost sight, as I could’ve sworn a man stabbed a dirk deep into Camille, yet she says she is fine. Is that true?”

“The girl you fancy seems to be well. She has had her eyes fixed upon this wagon since we left.” Harwin chuckled. “I believe her mood may have softened for you. It’s amazing how a girl can come around when you kill a man for them.”

“She hasn’t winced? Has she looked to be in discomfort?” Edmund couldn’t believe it. “I swear that is what I saw.”

“She is on a mount if that tells you anything.”

“I killed another man, Harwin. I may have killed two.”

“The constables were grumbling outside our cage. You shot one in the head, and the other was a combination of things.”

“I buried Gaston’s dirk in him. I think I buried it a second time. I was poking in the dark by then.”

Harwin informed him that one was stabbed and had a bashed skull, and another had his jaw broken into pieces.

“The girl cut one I was told. She wasn’t quite the sword she said she was. One of the tossers said the men had blood running out of their eyes. They burst like cysts,” he remarked.

“Their mouths still had vomit in them and turned a violent purple, their faces had the look of agony in them as they died wretchedly.”

“There was a sergeant who was handling the inquiry. He went by Courtney.”

“That man was dismissed, I heard. Couldn’t keep his tongue quiet. I see the man who questioned me and one of his mates, but many of these are from a different squad. Peregrine thought it was convenient to sever contact from as many who witnessed this debacle.”

“I am so weary of this, Harwin, and I saw bones in that infernal chest, I know I did,” he mumbled as his brother calmed him into relaxing. He must have fallen asleep as a rush of energy hit him as he heard horses stop on cobbled roads.

“Captain Sykes, are things still well?” his brother asked in a sarcastic tone as thoughts raced back into his head.

“This is the end of the road for you lads. We go back to Faust.” The captain cleared his throat, then added,

“If I were you, I would find another way back to Breeston. You should book a ship. It will be a long journey back, but if my men see you back in Faust, I can’t guarantee your safety there.”

“Was it worth it? The price he paid you?” Harwin asked in anger.

“I guess I will have to find that out for myself,” the captain said without care as Edmund could hear his steps walk away.

“Wanker!,” Harwin cursed as a sergeant called out to the men. His brother stood him up in the wagon, and he heard Julius shout happily as he helped him step down into the square. “You are here with us. I have been in despair since our arrest.”

“I am sorry, Julius. My plan didn’t go as I had hoped,” Edmund comforted him.

He could hear his friend choke with grief. “This is my bollocks. I should have never agreed to this.”

They could overhear the captain order their retreat. The clacking of horses’ hooves on the stone street circled them and, in moments, faded into the distance and then he could hear the talk of the people around the sounds of a city.

The sounds made him happy as the screech of a seagull brought a slight smile to his face.

“Now what?” Harwin said aloud.

“We’re here. You have got us to our destination.” Peregrine’s voice startled Edmund, not expecting him to be there.

“You had us brought here under arrest. What other humiliation are you going to put us through?” Julius asked, annoyed.

“Pay them what is due, Camille,” the master said. Edmund could hear her walk close by him. He could smell her as she moved, a sweet lilac smell, his nose discovered as he was given a cloth sack, and he felt the weight of it.

His hand touched hers and he wished to grab onto it. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he held it, but the thought was pleasant as he stood there like the craven.

“We still get our money?” Osmond said, then laughed in a mock. “Seems a bargain for you considering the outcome,” Harwin says sarcastically.

“Of course, I am a man of my word,” Peregrine answered, ignoring the slight.

“Are we through here?” Julius says angered. “You still won’t answer why the Yellow Hand wanted you dead.”

“Our business is finished here, lad. You have your gold and we only request that you do not follow us.” Peregrine says in an unconcerned tone.

“Your request is granted. Now bugger off, the two of you,” Julius growled as he stood there, listening. He could hear their steps leaving, he thought. “I guess that is that,” he mumbled.

“We have our money! Look at it, brother. I can’t believe it!” Osmond said quickly forgetting the suffering they all endured.

“Shut up, you fool, the whole square is looking at us. Why don’t you scream out, ‘Please rob us.’” Julius snapped at him.

“Well, what should we do since you are such a wise sage?” Osmond sardonically asked.

“Let’s find a place for my brother to lie down. I need to look at his eyes, and put more of this ointment Peregrine made if that is his real name. Find us a proper bath and forget that lot once and for all.” Harwin replied.

“I agree, brother. I know where we need to go,” his bearded companion boomed out with a laugh. His brother’s mood lightened while he chuckled in return.

They led him down many streets as he lost his footing and was left prone along the cobbles. They picked him up as he cursed the fumbling Osmond, who had him by the hand, pulling him along in haste as he stumbled, then picked up again and taken left, then right.

It felt like a big circle as he asked if they knew where they were going.

His brother was talking to commoners, and off he was taken again. The pace was brutal as he tripped and fell again, then was pulled up by the many hands of his mates around him.

The smell of the sea had hit him, and he wanted so badly to see it. The Lonoke port was said to be beautiful.

Edmund could hear many voices that told him they were in a crowded street, he said aloud as they stopped, “We’re lost. Are the commoners gawking at us? We must look out of sorts,” he asked out in confusion.

“Only you look out of sorts. They don’t appear to be noticing me,” Julius answered him. “We are dragging a blind man down the street, but if it comforts you, Edmund, your brother has found the place he was seeking.”

He tripped over a step, and he could hear music from inside. A bawdy tune, “The Old Mistresses Wake”, was being sung aloud. “Are we in a tavern?” Edmund asked, annoyed.

“We need to eat, little brother. It is evening.”

He was placed on a stool as his mates began calling out to a tavern girl. They dined on another capon after Osmond had begged for one.

Julius had torn off a leg for him to nibble on. He could smell butter on a heel of bread as a lute played. The fisherman finds a bride, was on the lips of everyone, a tune about a man who falls in love with a creature with the head of a fish, and the body of a woman.

An abomination of a song that Edmund tries to pay no mind to, but could hear it echoing off the walls while he sipped on a horn of ale.

His dinner ended rudely, barely finishing his horn as Edmund was suddenly pulled upstairs, falling again until Osmond hauled him up to another floor.

“C’mon, lad, we have a bed waiting for ya,” his crude friend told him as he was yanked through a doorway, slamming into its threshold.

“You’re going to beat him into a stupor. Are you drunk?” Julius protested.

“And what if I am?” Osmond shouted back.

Edmund was weary standing there, listening while the two bickered. “Is there a bed in here?” he pleaded to interrupt them.

“I got him,” Harwin said. His brother led him by the hand to lie down. The mattress was feathered, and he sank into it exhausted.

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