Strength of Fate - 3. Chapter Three

After nearly a week on the road, laying eyes on Croydon cresting the horizon was a welcome sight. The ride back took them on an alternate route that broke through deep forests. The road was safer and regularly patrolled, but slower to traverse. Roadside inns were cleverly positioned to welcome weary travellers after a day’s ride, but the three men were tired all the same.

Early afternoon sun broke through the clouds, welcoming them as they reached the town centre. Laird took a direct route toward the guild headquarters, leading them to the stables.

“You reckon he’s gonna keep our secret?” Brohm mumbled to Nathan out of earshot.

Nathan bit his lip, wanting so much to ask Laird that exact question, but knew it was pointless. Once the horses were stabled, Laird motioned for them to fall in line. He led them to the main office and approached the receptionist.

“Is Shaw in?”

“Yes, sir. He’s—”

“I’ll see myself in.” The stout man turned to Nathan and Brohm. “You two wait here.”

He knocked on Shaw’s door and, without waiting for an acknowledgement, entered.

“I think that answers your question,” Nathan said.

“This is never gonna work out. Reckon we should just leave.”

Nathan shook his head. “We didn’t waste over a fortnight just to walk out at the last moment.”

The men sat down, awaiting their verdict. Laird’s distinct voice travelled through the closed door, but it was muffled and unintelligible. His tone, however, was neutral, which Nathan found encouraging, but didn’t want to give any false hope by speaking it aloud. After a short pause, the door opened, and Laird entered the reception room.

“I’m off, boys. Safe travels,” he said while making no eye contact, his expression unreadable.

Nathan and Brohm, put off by his brisk demeanour, turned to watch him rush out the door. The two exchanged a glance. This didn’t bode well.

Shaw, standing in the hallway to his office, cleared his throat to catch their attention. He beckoned them to enter, then sat behind his desk with their file open in front of him. The disappointed expression on his face spoke volumes.

“Laird said you’re soldiers from the western steppes. Is this true?”

Nathan pleaded with outstretched hands. “Please, sir. If you’d just let us explain—”

“A yes or no will suffice.”

Nathan sighed. “Yes.”

“Could you explain how we’re supposed to trust you if the first words out of your mouth were a lie?”

Both men fell silent. Nathan felt Brohm tense up, wanting to leave.

“I’m waiting for an answer,” Shaw said.

“Did Laird explain why we left?” Nathan asked. “Why we considered it important to hide the truth?”

“He did, and I can appreciate the circumstances for doing so.”

“We only meant well,” Brohm chimed in.

“That doesn’t make it right. That’s why I’m torn about making this decision. Any other time, I’d have you out on your asses. But Laird’s referral . . .” He scoffed and gave the two men an incredulous look. “I’ve known that man for over a decade. He always takes the new recruits on their first assignment. I use him because he’s a hard man. He’s cynical, impossible to impress, yet a good judge of character. In those ten years, I can count on one hand when he’s told me a recruit would quickly rise through the ranks. He’s never been wrong.”

Shaw closed their file and presented an unflinching stare.

“He said you were worth the risk, and keeping you on probation was a waste of time.”

Nathan’s jaw slackened.

“He also told me you personally saved Senator Corbett’s life, and that you’d be commended for it.”

It took a moment for Nathan to find his voice. “I was just doing my job, sir. I don’t need to be commended for that, and I’ll refuse it if he does.”

“Like the hells you will,” Shaw said. “If a member does well, it looks good for the guild. You’ll accept it, and with good grace.”

Brohm shifted in his seat. “So, uhm, we’re members?”

“You might have Laird’s trust, but you’ve yet to earn mine. That said, we desperately need a branch in Millsfield, and you two are the best chance we have to get it up and running.” He tapped a finger on their file, deliberating before he continued speaking. “So yes, you’re members. Welcome to the guild.”

The tone wasn’t congratulatory, but Nathan didn’t care. They were in, and he was determined to do right by it. Shaw held out a hand, and they each shook it in earnest.

“Just don’t make me regret this, alright?” Shaw added with a hint of a smile.

“We really appreciate this, sir,” Nathan said. “We won’t disappoint you.”

Shaw opened a side drawer and pulled out two guild pins, handing one to each of them. It was a simple turquoise gem with no insignia, matching the pin Shaw wore.

“You wear this at all times. It signifies you’re one of us, so if you see another wearing it, you can rely on them.”

Nathan and Brohm each secured the pin to their jerkin.

“That also means our members can rely on you,” Shaw said. “Anytime, anywhere.”

Brohm nodded. “Yuh, of course. You got it, boss.”

Shaw sat down again. “So, do you have a location in mind for the new branch?”

“There’s an abandoned inn just outside town that looked promising,” Nathan said.

“Good. Once you’ve made a decision and secured the property, return here. By that time, the papers will have been drawn up to finalize the agreement.”

They said their farewells, then left the office to push forward into the busy courtyard. Brohm wore his crooked grin—a special smile that always warmed Nathan’s heart. He couldn’t help smiling back. After days of worry and uncertainty behind them, he felt giddy excitement for what lay ahead.

Returning to the stables, they found Laird’s horse gone. Nathan was disappointed to not have been able to thank their temporary boss. Perhaps that’s why he ran off so abruptly. He knew Nathan would’ve wanted to thank him, and he seemed the type unable to comfortably receive gratitude.

“Reckon we celebrate with a lot of ale and a soft bed,” Brohm said. “We’ll head back to Millsfield tomorrow, yuh?”

“Sounds good. Lead the way, big guy.”

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

Upon arriving in Millsfield, they returned to the dilapidated inn sitting beyond the western edge of town. Long, yellowing grass surrounded the three-storey building, bordered by a giant veranda on three sides. A sign, The Fox and Hen, hung loosely above the nailed-shut front door. Wooden boards covered the windows, and Brohm yanked one free to peek inside. Aside from tables, chairs, and an intricate array of spiderwebs, there was little else to distinguish in the gloom.

In the backyard, they found an old well, its covered roof collapsed and fallen to one side. Beyond lay a field of grass. Trees stood proud in the distance, their leaves—bright yellow and red—just about to fall for the season. They bordered the grassland far to the left and right, holding everything in place. A grand ice-peaked mountain range overlooked all, a lone ward to protect them. Nathan couldn’t help but stare in awe at the beauty before him.

He turned to find Brohm not enjoying the scenery, but instead staring at him quizzically.

“What?”

Brohm shrugged casually. “Nothin’. Just wondering what you’re smiling about.”

“It’s a beautiful view, don’t you think?” Nathan asked.

“Sure. Reckon it’s nice.”

His tone didn’t quite ring true, but Nathan didn’t think much of it. Not everyone could appreciate the rugged beauty of the world, and that was fine.

Back in town, they sought shop proprietors and barkeeps to ask if they knew the owner of the old inn. It was known to everyone, but none could produce the owner’s name or explain why it had been abandoned. It wasn’t until late that afternoon that a tavern patron overheard their conversation. The grizzled old man rose from his table and joined them at the bar.

“I think I can help ya, boys,” he said. “Why’re y’all interested in that place?”

“We’re aiming to buy it,” Brohm said.

The man smiled, his face toughened from years in the sun. “Oh yeah? I used to drink there. Lots of fun times.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Bill,” the barkeep said. “You’ve been a devoted customer a long time. I wouldn’t want to lose you now.”

Bill wheezed a laugh. “Don’t you worry. I wouldn’t leave ya.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference anyway,” Nathan said. “We’re planning on converting it into a guildhouse.”

“Which guild?” the barkeep asked. “No wait, let me guess. By the looks of you two, I’m thinking the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“We’re that obvious, are we?”

The barkeep gave him a knowing smile and waggled his eyebrows before leaving them for another customer.

“So, Bill, what can you tell us?” Nathan asked.

“My mouth is dry. Why don’t ya wet my tongue with another ale, and I’ll tell ya what I know.”

Nathan bought a round for the three of them. As soon as they were seated at the old man’s table, Brohm took a deep draught, emptying half his tankard.

“Thirsty too, are ya?” Bill asked.

“We’ve been walking around town all day. Yuh, I got a thirst. Glad to be rid of it.”

“So? Who owned the inn?” Nathan asked.

“His name was Ramsey.”

“Was?”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in years. Kinda assumed he passed.”

“Does he have any family?”

Bill shook his head. “Only a wife, but she got sick one winter. Didn’t make it.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Twenty years . . . maybe longer? Mind’s not what it used to be,” the old man said with a chuckle. “Anyway, after she died, poor Ramsey just wasn’t the same. He used to be such a happy fella, but rare to see him smile after that. Wasn’t long ’fore he shut the place down.”

“That’s when you lost track of him?” Brohm asked after finishing his ale.

“Nah, I saw him around town for a while, but then he disappeared. I heard he bought a tract of land north of here. We lost touch after that.”

“Do you know how far north?” Nathan asked.

Bill shrugged. “All I know it was north of town. Given the mountains thataways, couldn’t be far.”

Brohm scratched at his chin in thought. “That helps, but not much to go on. You reckon anyone else might know more?”

The old man shook his head. “Nah, sorry. But I hope it was a fair trade for the ale.”

Nathan stood and shook his hand. “You’ve been more than helpful. We appreciate it.”

“Cheers.”

The tavern had filled considerably since their arrival, and they shouldered their way through the crowd to the exit. Evening sun welcomed them, sitting low in the sky, accompanied by a cool breeze—a reminder of the coming winter season.

Brohm groaned. “My feet are killing me.”

“If you’re expecting a foot rub when he get home, you’re gonna be sorely disappointed,” Nathan said with a grin.

Brohm laughed and playfully punched his arm. The outburst caught the attention of a man standing across the street. His face, sombre at first, promptly shifted to fear. Wide owl eyes watched as they passed.

Brohm stopped to address him. “Can we help you?”

The man stood stunned a moment before shaking his head. Nathan assumed him a beggar.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to stare?” Brohm asked.

The beggar took his question to heart and slunk into the shadows of a nearby alley.

“That was strange,” Nathan said.

“Yuh. I wonder what his problem was?”

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

The next morning, they rode north out of town on a narrow farmer’s road. Workmen tended the orderly fields, collecting the last of the year’s harvest. Nathan slowed his mount as they approached one of them.

“Morning,” the man said as he rose from the field, brushing dirt from his trousers.

“Hi. I was wondering if you knew how far this road went?” Nathan asked.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he scanned the northern horizon. “It continues on past the fields, but I don’t rightly know if it leads anywhere. Why do you ask?”

“We’re looking for someone. An innkeeper named Ramsey. We were told he might live up there.”

The worker shrugged. “I’ve never seen anyone coming from that direction. Don’t know any Ramsey, either.”

“Thanks for the help all the same.”

“Aye,” he said with a nod and returned to his work.

After a short ride, the fields gave way to wild brush and sparse trees. As the worker said, the road continued onward, but it was a neglected path overgrown with vegetation. Beyond lay the vast mountain range. While still distant, it loomed large and proud on the horizon.

The farther they rode on the path, the harder it was to follow. Brohm caught sight of a small building in the distance amid the brush, and they urged their horses onward. The wooden shack was worse for wear. It leaned to one side precariously, and appeared to be abandoned.

“Reckon whoever lived here is gone,” Brohm said.

Before Nathan could reply, a clucking chicken interrupted him. They investigated the backyard to find a coop of hens and an empty pen nearby.

“Someone must be living here,” Nathan said. “The chickens wouldn’t last long without being fed. There’s a small garden over there, too. Looks well-tended.”

Brohm turned his attention back to the shack. “Hullo? Anyone home?”

Nobody answered. Nathan returned to the front to knock on a ramshackle door. Still no answer. Brohm joined his side.

“Wanna take a peek inside?” he asked.

Nathan shrugged. “Someone clearly lives here. We should wait until they return.”

“You wait here, then. I’ll just be a second.”

Nathan protested, but Brohm waved him off and pushed on the door. It opened with a soft creak. He tentatively poked his head in before stepping inside and disappearing from view. Only a moment passed before a solid war cry broke the silence, followed by a grunt of surprise from Brohm. Nathan rushed in to find a man swinging an axe at Brohm, who was successfully dodging the attacks. After the third swing, Brohm grabbed the haft and yanked it from the man’s grip. The attacker stood his ground despite Brohm towering over him.

“Get out of my home!” the man roared.

Brohm backpedaled, nearly tripping over Nathan, and they stumbled out of the shack together. The man followed them out, allowing Nathan a good look at him. Despite his advanced age, he was sturdily built.

“What right do you have entering someone’s home without permission?”

“Sorry. We didn’t know you were in there,” Brohm said.

“That doesn’t give you permission!”

Nathan stepped between the two men, raising his hands in a show of peace. “We apologize. We meant no harm. But why didn’t you answer when we called out?”

“Maybe I don’t want visitors. Look around you. What do you see?”

Nathan and Brohm glanced about, but didn’t know what response he was looking for.

“There’s nothing, nobody,” the man said. “That’s the way I like it. Now, give me my axe and shove off!”

Brohm tossed the axe to the man’s feet.

“Wait,” Nathan said. “We came out here for a reason. We’re looking for Ramsey, the owner of The Fox and Hen. Are you him?”

For a moment, his eyes softened before the anger returned. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m Whitter,” Nathan said. “This is Sid. We’d like to buy the property.”

“W-what?”

“You are Ramsey, right?” Nathan asked.

The man’s eyes shifted between the two of them. He nodded.

“Listen, we heard your story. About what happened to your . . .” Nathan considered saying the word wife was a bad choice. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Equal parts anger and sorrow dripped from Ramsey’s voice. “Sorry for what? You don’t even know me.”

“True, but it doesn’t mean I don’t understand your pain. I’ve had loss, too.”

“Just leave!” Ramsey cried and staggered backward, using the doorway for support, as though the crushing memory of his wife still weighed him down after all these years.

“Will you consider our offer—”

“Fuck off!”

The door slammed shut.

Brohm laid a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go.”

They returned to their horses and watched them crop grass, seemingly oblivious to the outburst that just occurred.

“So what you reckon?” Brohm asked. “Find another place for the guildhouse?”

Nathan shook his head. “I’m not ready to give up that easily.”

Despite their failed meeting with Ramsey, they were happy to know he was still alive. The trek to and from his shack wasn’t far from town, and they arrived in time for lunch. Without needing to speak a word, they headed to their favourite pub, the Green Barrel. The fare was good, and the atmosphere appealed to both of them. While Brohm shovelled food into his mouth, Nathan pondered how to proceed.

“When we try again, we should bring something, like a peace offering.”

Brohm grunted in agreement. “Reckon we wait a couple of days, though. Gods, was he angry,” he managed to say with a mouthful. “In the animal pen, he didn’t have any pigs. We could bring him one. They’re tasty, from snout to hoof.”

To illustrate his point, he cut a chunk of ham from his plate and shoved it in his mouth. Nathan couldn’t help but chuckle. Most would find Brohm’s table manners appalling, but Nathan found his boorish ways endearing.

After their meal, they headed back to their apartment, catching a glimpse of the beggar again. As before, intense eyes watched them pass, but this time he was careful not to stare for too long. Regardless, Brohm wasn’t pleased at the attention, and stopped his horse to shoot him a murderous glare. The beggar withered against his gaze.

“I see the truth of you,” the man said.

“What in hells does that mean? What truth?” Brohm asked.

Nathan turned his mount to look back. “Leave him be. Come on, let’s go.”

Brohm grumbled under his breath and left the strange man behind.

Arriving at their apartment, they found a scroll laying at the foot of their door. Brohm unfurled it and read as they entered. A laugh escaped his lips.

“Guess what this is?” he sang in a mocking tone.

Nathan stood bemused at Brohm’s singsong. “What. Tell me.”

“It’s something you don’t want,” the big man continued with a toothy grin.

Brohm held the scroll over his head as Nathan reached for it. The height advantage forced him to jump in an attempt to grab it.

“What is it?” he cried, hanging off Brohm’s arm in an effort to lower it.

Brohm finally handed it over, belting out a hearty laugh. “It’s that commendation from Senator Corbett. You have to go to some party.”

“What?” Nathan scanned the document in distress. “Oh gods, why me?”

“Reckon you’ll have to dress up all pretty, and talk to snooty-types. I’m sure you’ll love it.” Brohm’s words dripped with sarcasm.

“Wait!” Nathan pointed at a section of the scroll. “It says here to bring a guest. You’re coming with me!”

“Oh, no no no. No chance, l’il buddy. I’ll join you to Croydon, but I won’t go to any party like that. Reckon you’re on your own there.”

“Come on, Brohm. Please. I’m begging you.”

The big man stood firm with a cheeky smile, shaking his head with closed eyes. Nathan sighed in dismay and slumped onto a chair, dropping the scroll on the side table.

“Gods. Why does this have to happen to me?”

Brohm’s face grew sympathetic. “I was just foolin’. You really don’t wanna go, huh?”

“Of course not. I’m dreading it. I don’t do mingling well.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to”—he sighed—“okay, I’ll go with you.”

Nathan glanced up. “Really?”

He smiled and nodded. “When is it?”

“It’s in a month.” Nathan stood up to hug him. “Thanks, big guy.”

Brohm kissed his forehead. “There’s just one thing you need to do for payment.”

“Anything.”

Brohm tugged at his belt and dropped his trousers. “How about a little relief?”

Nathan scoffed and gave him a sly grin. “Like you even need to ask.”