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Slaves to Passion (greybishop & ShadowOfDesire)

greybishop

greybishop

Star
Joined
Jan 29, 2019
Location
USA East Coast
Lukas rode with the caravan all the way to Constantine’s warehouse in town. He didn’t do it because he thought the merchant’s wagons would be attacked in the middle of Sinclaire, or because he was a charitable man; he did it because he wanted to get paid. The last ten days slowly crawling along the old Imperial road through the Black Forest had taught the sellsword that if nothing else, his latest employer was the “epitome of a fat fuck merchant;” he knew if Mikael were here with him, his mad brother from Rabia would let him know if he was using ‘epitome’ correctly. But he and Mikael had parted ways long ago, and it was now up to Lukas to choose his words wisely.

The sellsword mulled that over as he watched Constantine supervise his merchandise being offloaded, tallied and stored away; anything that had “gone astray” on the journey couldn’t really be called his problem, since the trip had been blessedly boring, but he didn’t doubt the fat fuck would try to blame any pilferage on him somehow. Yet that moment never came. The merchant finally handed over seven small bags of silver; Lukas kept the heaviest and passed the rest to the other sellswords who had been “his men” on this contract. As Constantine had done they all tallied up their earnings, then said their goodbyes and quickly parted ways before sunset fell. And so the latest incarnation of the great and glorious Gryphon’s Talon Company dissolved yet again; Lukas made sure to say goodbye politely, in part because Constantine hadn’t been such a fat fuck after all and in part because he knew his bag of silver wouldn’t last forever.

---

While his former men ran off to inns within the town’s walls, Lukas slowly walked his horse back towards the main gate; he had no desire to spend the night in some small, vermin infested room inhaling the farts of other travelers. On the way into town he’d spotted a large caravanserai on the outskirts that had a Black Dog on its signboard; it had looked prosperous enough and the sellsword had grinned at the picture. As he neared the gate Lukas saw a slaver’s caravan coming in late and reined his horse aside, as professional courtesy to this caravan’s guards; as it turned out he knew the other captain and exchanged nods with the man. The slaver’s wares made it clear he was a prosperous one, perhaps unusually so for this region. A line of shackled field slaves trudged along behind a wagon full of house slaves, but Lukas also saw one man among the latter whittling away with a small knife, undoubtedly while his ankle was stoutly chained to the wagon’s side; clearly a craft slave who would soon be working for some rich Master woodworker alongside the Apprentices. But what really caught the sellsword’s eyes, and the eyes of everyone else, were the two pleasure slaves riding in front of the wagon and behind the slaver and his guard captain.

The two had been artfully dressed and done up to show off the slaver’s wealth as his caravan rolled into town; their clothing was revealing, yet still managed to conceal the shackles also binding their wrists. They looked like they might have been brother and sister, and Lukas scratched at his beard as he briefly wondered if they were the children of some disgraced or impoverished minor noble. Then someone else in the gawking throng started yelling, and Lukas’ head swiveled in that direction as did everyone else’s.

The person yelling was obviously a priest or disciple of the new god; his shabby clothing and the cheap circular pendant dangling from his neck made that much clear to even a deaf person. The pendant meant different things depending on who you asked; the new god rising from the east like the sun, or maybe the way this “one true God” circled back on himself in unity. Lukas was no priest of the old gods, so he’d never looked into it all that much. The man started wailing about the evils of slavery and the perils of “fornication,” (Lukas knew what that meant thanks to Mikael and it made him chuckle) and then one of the slaver’s guards stepped up and shoved the idiot across his chest with the shaft of his spear; the priest stumbled, slipped and then fell into the mud. As that happened the pleasure slaveboy looked at his sister and said something that made her smile sadly; Lukas mentally applauded the young man’s pluck, but had to wonder if the girl was the smarter of the two. Then a couple of kids grabbed some vegetables from a vendor’s cart and began hurling them at the new god’s disciple; the vendor didn’t like that much and as a small riot broke out, Lukas took that as his cue to trot out the gate …

---

The sellsword’s arrival at the Black Dog didn’t cause much of a stir; they’d clearly dealt with his kind before and the silver in his hand quickly smoothed over any consternation his chainmail hauberk and lack of a tabard may have caused. (“What, don’t they see the gryphon’s claw on my shield? That is my heraldry.” In his mind he could hear Mikael laughing. “Spend a few coins to get the claw repainted effendi and perhaps they will!”)

Lukas was pleased to see his room was as spacious and airy as the rest of the inn, and that he’d be sharing it with only one other person; the place was clearly doing well, probably because it wasn’t buried deep inside the crowded town. After a stable boy had taken care of his horse and a house slave had carted his saddlebags up to his room, the sellsword finally doffed his armor and weapons; as he set them aside he resolved to see if the inn had anyone who could care for them in the morning instead of cleaning them himself. Then Lukas plunged his face into the room’s bucket and headed down to the common area, hoping he was early enough to find a good bench where he could keep his back to the wall. And maybe also get a mug of ale that hadn’t been watered down too badly and listen to a minstrel who knew how to carry a tune, before he tucked into his dinner and started drinking seriously …
 
"But, milord... I can do this alone. There is no need to..."

"Do you wish to see her returned or not?!" he snapped, cutting her off.

The man had a temper, it was known, and she'd seen it far more than all others. Sensing that he was in no mood for logic and reason, she bowed her head beneath that fiery gaze. "Of course, as much as you do, milord."

"Then do as I command and stop arguing for the sake of your pride!"

He huffed and flung a bag of coin at her, which she caught without looking. She knew from the weight along how much it contained. It disappeared just as quickly as it'd come to her, and she sketched a bow without another word. Once out of the hall, her long stride altered into a lope as she crossed the estate in search of Gyffard. He wasn't hard to find, so long as he wished to be found. Luckily, she knew his tricks, for he'd taught them to her himself. Most of them, anyhow. There were still a few that he'd been hesitant about showing her. Why, she didn't yet know, but she trusted him like no other and didn't question his ways.

As luck would have it, or rather -- exactly as he'd intended, she found him at the stables where he'd already saddled her chestnut mare.

"Never miss a trick," she muttered.

"Not in a long while, child," he agreed. Tying down the last saddlebag, he turned to look down at her. She knew what he saw, for she avoided staring at it on a daily basis, but the man wasn't studying her face or clothing. He was reading her body language. "I know you have your doubts, but do not feed them. I would go with you if I could, but we both know I am not as spry as I once was."

She nodded respectfully. He spoke the truth, but she couldn't help but resent how time had worn him down. Once, she thought he'd live forever. Now she could see the signs of his age quite clearly, and how the years had changed him.

Without another word spoken between them, she swung up on her mare with the ease and grace of one who had done so countless times. He offered her his own blade. She hesitated before taking it, but her slender fingers curled about the engraved hilt before sliding the sheath into her belt. With a nod, she nudged her mare forward and had soon left the man far behind. Gyffard wasn't her father, but he may as well have been. She certainly loved and respected him more that the man that had given her life. Which isn't saying all that much, she thought grimly.

---

The weather had turned foul upon the road, delaying her arrival into Sinclaire. Much to her annoyance, she'd learned that the man had come and gone. She rode through the town gates to follow his chosen path, hoping to find him where they'd said he would be. The Black Dog was not difficult to find. She'd stayed there a time or two before, and was known to the innkeep. Tossing a coin to the boy that came for her horse, she left her bow, quiver, and shortsword upon the saddle and kept only the borrowed dagger tucked into her belt.

Her steps were quiet as she moved inside, and no one paid much attention to the plainly-dressed ranger. The number of patrons had grown, though not to crushing proportions. There was music to be had near the fire, the bard plucking out a bawdy song on his gittern to the audience's delight. Strains of a loudly belted 'Rum, rum, rum. In and out!*' followed her as she approached the barkeep out of necessity. Food, drink, and information came easily enough with the right number of coins slid across the worn surface.

When her ale was poured, the man sat two large mugs before her and she thanked him with a nod. Lifting one in either hand, she wove through the tables in search of her target, finding the man deep in his food and drink. Gods, he is a giant bear of a man. It's no wonder he was recommended, she thought to herself as she studied him with a shrewd eye. Let's hope he's sober enough to talk. Without asking for his leave, the slender young woman swung a leg over the bench across from him and plunked both tankards down on the table. One was shoved in his direction and her fingers curled possessively around the other.

"You're the man they call Lukas," Jacelyn said, a statement rather than a question as she leaned her elbows upon the table. "My lord has need of your sword. Are you amiable to a proposition?"

----------

* The Lusty Young Smith
* And Lyrics
 
The Black Dog continued to be a pleasant surprise for Lukas; the ale was strong, his bread was fresh and the stew had a fair amount of meat and vegetables mixed in with the potatoes. In fact he enjoyed his food so much he called to a serving wench for another bowl and had just started in on that when the minstrel began his entertainment. Lukas had been hoping to hear a woman’s voice but had to admit the fellow was good and his song was amusing; soon enough the big sellsword was calling out “Rum, rum, rum. In and out, ho!” with the rest of the patrons, in a rather loud voice that attracted a few guarded looks from those around him. When the tune was over Lukas glanced to his left and right and saw that he still had quite a lot of elbow room on the bench, even with the common room starting to fill. So he called out to an older man off to his left, who appeared to be a tradesman of some sort.

“He’s good, isn’t he?”

The man nodded politely enough and replied “Indeed he is,” before turning away to talk to someone on his other side. Lukas scowled a bit and was about to say something when a woman suddenly sat on the bench across from him and plunked two full tankards down on the scarred wood of the table. He could see she was no serving wench or courtesan, and instinctively he leaned back as one of his hands dropped to the bone covered hilt of the long knife at his waist. But then it struck him that this was his first visit to Sinclaire and he didn’t have any enemies here yet, or owe anyone money. So despite the woman looking serious, capable and experienced he didn’t think she looked like trouble yet either and he relaxed, moving his big hand from the knife to wrap around the tankard that had been pushed his way. But he didn’t drink from it yet.

“Aye, I’m Lukas.” He nodded at the woman and tried to smile politely, but the scar that marred his lip and chin turned that into a crooked grin. A few women had told him the grin was charming or something suchlike, but others had said it looked insincere or even menacing; the sellsword didn’t really use a looking glass all that much, so he didn’t have an opinion on the matter either way. As Lukas raised the tankard slightly he went on. “This is very kind of you. Especially since …” he looked to the right and left as he raised his voice some “… I don’t like to drink alone.” The people on the bench to either side of the sellsword suddenly became even more engrossed in their own food, drink and conversations.

Lukas looked back at the woman and there was a twinkle in his eye as he tried another smile. “So I’ll listen to your proposition. Though ya should know I’ll listen much more closely if your lord understands my sword is for sale for coin, and not good causes and the like;” the sellsword snorted and shook his head as he said ‘good causes,’ almost as if those words had tasted bad in his mouth. “Oh, and one more thing …” Lukas raised his mug, as if he was offering a toast. “Since I don’t like drinking alone, what’s your name lass?”
 
"Jacelyn," she supplied with a raise of her own mug in response.

The tankard looked much larger in her smaller hands as she brought it to her lips for a long drink. She sat it down upon the table with a sigh of satisfaction and a smack of her lips. A serving wench brought her meal, the same as Lukas had already enjoyed. Before turning her attention to her food, she removed her gloves and then pulled back her hood, revealing more of her face. The girl was pleasant enough to look upon, but could never be considered a great beauty. Her hair was a mousy shade of brown that she'd braided and coiled at the nape of her neck. Her face was too angular, and her nose a bit crooked where it had once been broken. It could be said that her mouth was her saving grace, for those lips were full and sensual enough to tempt many a man, but it was her eyes that most remembered. They were shockingly blue and piercing, like twin pools of cerulean that a man could easily fall into and drown.

Thankfully, that piercing look remained upon the man only a moment before she turned her focus to her food. She started by ripping a piece off the thick brown bread she liked to sop up some of the gravy. It was flavorful enough that she knew she'd likely want a second bowl, but then the cook here didn't skimp. The price was fair and the meat was beef, not the remnants of some mysterious animal that had likely been the neighbor's dog. Of course, dogmeat wasn't all that unpleasant when properly cooked, and Jacelyn wasn't picky when she was hungry.

She'd not missed the way he'd automatically gone for his blade when she'd startled him. He was fast, and likely skilled. Those that had contacted her master had thought so, at least. She looked forward to putting him through his paces. With any luck, he might be willing to spar with her. Her skill with a bow was unquestionable, but she was middling with a sword. Jacelyn much preferred killing from a distance when at all possible. It took far less effort. However, as Gyffard taught her, it wasn't wise to hinge one's survival on a single talent.

The girl's gaze flitted back to Lukas briefly as she considered his answer. "Aye, to address your concerns, there's coin enough if we succeed. M'lord Mathis is a successful and extremely wealthy merchant, not unlike the one whose employee you've so recently quitted, and he has coin to spare. Your reputation is known by many within the Merchant Guild. They take keen note of trustworthy sellswords who consistently deliver no matter the odds. As such, if you accept, I've been tasked with providing you with half payment up front, as well as to act as your scout. I know this area hereabouts and have hunted these lands extensively. One rarely goes hungry in the company of a ranger."

She watched him again as she took a drink, licking foam from her lips when the tankard finally lowered. "If you've interest in hearing more, I would suggest continuing the discussion in a quieter setting once appetite for stew, beer, and singing are sated."
 
“Jacelyn,” Lukas repeated before he sipped from his own mug; maybe he said her name out loud to help him remember it, or maybe he just wanted to see how it sounded coming from his mouth. In truth it was a bit of both and he thought her name was quite nice; it certainly tasted better to him than something like good causes. After that the sellsword silently finished his dinner as he regarded the woman sitting across from him. She seemed sincere enough and when she pulled back her hood Lukas could better see how striking her appearance was too; her fair features included lovely, full lips, but by far it was her brilliant blue eyes that were most noticeable. There was a remarkable strength and liveliness to them that the sellsword imagined would shift with her mood; since she was being cordial and professional just now he could see the slightest hint of warmth in them, or at least no outright coldness. But anyone who had ever truly angered her? Lukas had to imagine the last set of blue eyes they ever saw was just as cold as the knife blade coming for their throat; he rather liked that.

As important as the woman’s appearance was Lukas also paid close attention to her words and she said all the right things. That her lord was a merchant instead of some noble was a huge step in the right direction as far as he was concerned; merchants tended to prefer profitable plots and plans and schemes and jobs, whereas the nobility? Only the gods knew what was going on in their heads most of the time. And the idea that Constantine may have put a good word in for him with this Mathis or the local guild was believable now, even if it flew in the face of everything he’d originally thought about the fat fuck. In his head he could hear Mikael laughing; “See effendi the pen, or the tongue, is sometimes mightier than the sword!” Of course his brothers had told him the same thing just in different words, but he’d been an indifferent student when he was being raised, always more focused on the sparring yard than his lessons; they’d always chided him for that, as Mikael had too.

Pulling himself back to the present Lukas mulled over the rest of Jacelyn’s proposal. ‘Coin enough’ with half up front, and she claimed to be a local scout and ranger too? He couldn’t ask for any better than that and again it seemed believable enough; if Mathis was a peer of Constantine’s he’d definitely have a fat purse, and the lass certainly carried herself as a ranger would. Which led to the next and final question; what was the job? The fact she wanted to discuss it in private wasn’t alarming and just seemed to indicate it was the sort of thing Mathis’ rivals could profit from too – which also meant it was important to Mathis, and something he’d pay dearly to see carried through; it was that last thought that made up Lukas’ mind for him as he finished off his ale.

“Alright lass, I’m finished with my dinner if you are. And aye, I’d hear more before I decide; if you want to talk somewhere else that’s understandable.” The sellsword glanced to his sides and though he was still being studiously ignored, he did have to wonder if Jacelyn’s mysterious offer had caught anyone else’s attention. “The other bed in my room was empty when I came down, or the stable yard might have quieted by now as well. Wherever you like.” He gestured generally out and away from the inn’s common room, then gave her his crooked smile. “Lead on, Ranger Jacelyn.”
 
She ate quickly, efficiently, and neatly. While he was studying her, she was studying her food. It had been a long day and a long ride without a chance to stop save to see to the necessities. It was pleasant to be sitting on something that wasn't moving, and better still to be out of the nasty weather she'd passed through. After sopping up the last bit of her stew with a crust of bread, she threw a glance at the crowd while she took a pull from her tankard. The minstrel was a fair singer and his song choices entertaining. Whether he sang for coin or his supper, she doubted he'd lack for the basic comforts that eve. Before turning back to the swordsman, she allowed her keen eye to rove over the other patrons. Most were too busy with food, drink, and singing to take note of the conversation, but she caught one or two wandering looks that quickly flitted away when she met their eyes. While she didn't think anyone was looking for trouble, she was always wary of those that might cause it down the line.

Rising from her seat with an easy grace, she gave Lukas a curt nod and tilted her head in the direction of the door. She'd not be taking a room until she learned of his decision, and she wasn't about to be seen traipsing up to his room like a whore for hire. While she had little doubt that she could handle any man that mistook her for one, she was trying to avoid trouble and attention, not cause it. Better to never give someone the temptation.

Taking her tankard with her, she ambled outside where the fading sun struck the sky with a brilliant display of red, orange, and pink. A slight breeze teased at the hem of her cloak. There were several benches near the entrance, but they were too near the common room for her liking. After a sweeping glance of the yard, she gestured to the far side of the stables where some enterprising soul had placed upended logs to use as seats. They were far enough from the entrance so as not to be overheard, but not so near the horses to be mired down in the smell of unmucked stalls. Pulling her dagger from her belt, Gyffard's dagger in truth, she twirled it about in her fingers to occupy her restless hands.

Leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees, she waited until Lukas had settled before broaching the subject. "To the point, this contract is one of great personal importance to Mathis. His daughter, Isolde, has gone missing, and he's tasked me with finding her. I know the area, but I also know it is not wise to travel alone. His hired guards are not due back with the caravan for another fortnight. His estate guards are not what one would call... seasoned." She couldn't quite help the derision in her voice.

"Pampered by four walls, regular meals, and soft beds," she further explained. "A hindrance in the wilds, to be sure. I seek a swordsman of skill and heartiness, of which I am told you have in abundance. I cannot say how long it will take to discover what has become of the girl, or if she will be found alive, but you shall be paid no matter the outcome."
 
Lukas followed the ranger out of the inn and across the stable yard; after the warmth and noise of the common room he thought the yard was pleasantly quiet and cool. A nice breeze and fair sky promised good weather for the evening and the sellsword looked forward to leaving his window open as he settled into a proper bed later on; after almost a fortnite of sleeping on the ground he thought he deserved a little comfort, especially since he had the coin to pay for it. The horses all seemed to agree and he heard little in the way of noise coming from the stalls as he settled onto a log next to Jacelyn. He watched her twiddle her dagger around a bit as if she was restless or thinking, and noted how she handled it deftly; yet another sign she was who she claimed to be, or something similar. After she laid out more of the job he scratched at his beard as he thought a bit, and then replied.

“So it is a good cause after all.” Lukas grinned a little as he held up one of his big hands. “Though an understandable one.” And one which this Mathis would be willing to pay dearly for no doubt; the fact coin was promised ‘no matter the outcome’ confirmed that much. Still though … “But I’m going to need to know more before I decide lass. Did Isolde run off with a suitor?” (“I should be so lucky” the sellsword thought.) “Was she taken on the highway by bandits, then sold to some slaver? Kidnapped from her bed by Mathis’ rival, who now holds her for ransom? Not that I hold with kidnapping mind, but if you expect me to fight my way through a dozen estate guards to help you get her back …” Lukas paused, then sat back and smiled.

“Or perhaps she was put into a magical slumber by some foul witch, and you need a handsome fellow to give her a good kiss. Now if that’s the case, I’m definitely your man.” Lukas continued to grin as he thought about that old fable; the bards never specified which of the fair maid’s lips the prince had kissed, and left to his own devices it would be a tough choice. “So you’re going to have to trust me with a bit more information, so I can make a proper decision.” And with that the big sellsword leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked at Jacelyn as he waited to see what she might say next ...
 
"If she's in need of a handsome prince to wake her, her betrothed is quite enough to do the job. He's a fair sight prettier than either of us, and only a shade less prettier than her." She snorted in amusement, blue eyes dancing with mirth. After taking another drink, she placed her mug back on the stump beside her. "Nae, those are all excellent questions, but if I had answers to them, then I wouldn't be here looking for a second."

"Isdole's betrothed, Lord Balan, is a man of means and in nae need to kidnap her away from her father to steal her virtue or ransom her for fortune. He'd have both very shortly. They were handfasted nearly a year ago. He has been playing host to the wedding party for some weeks, for they were to be married in the ancestral chapel upon his estate in a month's time. Mathis returned to his own estate for a short while to conduct his own business, leaving Isolde with her mother, maids, and personal guard in Lord Balan's care. A sennight ago, Mathis received word that Lord Balan and Isolde and two guards did not return from touring the countryside. While I cannot discount the fact that Lord Balan might have enemies, he is a rather minor noble with a greater interest in the profit of his current lands than annexing another's."

"Mathis is a merchant, and shrewd at business, but generally well received among his peers. The man is certainly nae saint, but one of his rivals would be far more likely to attack his business prospects than his family. He also has yet to receive word of ransom. Bandits could be a possibility, o'course, if they were in greater numbers to overwhelm two well trained guards and Lord Balan, who is also skilled with a sword. She would make a pretty slave, of that there is little doubt, but far more coin could be gained by sending Lord Balan to fetch them coin in exchange for her life, do you not think?"

She shrugged. "It also does not seem logical for a well known Lord to simply disappear. A few of his estate guard went out in search, but discovered naught. Mathis thought a ranger might fare better. If we discover they fell prey to something beyond our means, two would be able to escape notice far easier than a large hunting party."
 
Lukas rather enjoyed seeing Jacelyn chuckle with amusement; her whole face softened ever so slightly and just then those brilliant blue eyes of hers seemed warm and friendly. The big sellsword thought it was quite pleasant to be sitting there with her, casually discussing business in the cool quiet of the stable yard after a long day. Then she went and ruined things by mentioning there was a nobleman involved.

“Ah, so there it is” he muttered darkly as he shook his head and sat back. “I could smell a blue blood was involved in this somehow.” Lukas rubbed at his chin as he looked around for his tankard, but then realized he’d left it on the table inside. So instead of having another drink he looked back at Jacelyn. “I think you have most of it right lass. Isolde hasn’t run off, or been taken by bandits, or wolves, or a bear. And I can’t see one of Mathis’ rivals striking at him through her, at least when she was with this Lord Balan; angering the nobles is the last thing some other merchant would want to do. But Balan himself? He might now be a minor lordling who spends more time squeezing his serfs dry than plotting against his neighbors, but who knows what he might have done years ago? Some other nobleman, or worse noblewoman might have been slighted by him in the past and thought it was finally time to take their revenge.”

The sellsword shook his head again and looked back towards the inn, tempted to walk away from the whole thing right then and there. But for some reason Lukas stayed put on his log and thought the whole business over a bit more. The way Constantine had described it, this area had been relatively peaceful for many years; there were some ongoing problems with bandits to be sure, but it had been quite some time since real war had swept over the land. Which of course was exactly why the fat merchant had a warehouse here; the locals’ coin purses were as fat as he was, and they were willing to pay for the luxuries and other goods he brought up the highway from the south. But perhaps all that was going to change, making business worse for the likes of Constantine and Mathis, but much, much better for one particular mercenary captain. Especially if he was involved in whatever was going on from the very beginning, and knew exactly what that was, and who could and would pay for his services …

The sellsword finally looked back at Jacelyn and smiled his crooked grin as he looked into her blue eyes. “Alright lass, despite all that call me tempted. You’re also in the right that this sounds like a job fit for a ranger, and that a smart ranger would want someone watching her back. And that two people scouting about will draw less notice than a warband as well. But I do have two more, simple questions for you. Firstly, tell me you have some idea of where to start looking for Isolde, beyond riding through Lord Balan’s holdings and calling out her name as loudly as we can.” Lukas’ grin broadened. “And second, exactly how much silver does your Lord Mathis consider coin enough to find out what happened to his fair daughter, no matter the outcome?”
 
She watched him for a moment as he mulled over the facts. His disdain for nobility was blatantly obvious, and she really didn't blame him. She'd rarely met a noble she liked. There were a few exceptions to that, but they were rare and so apart from their peers, they seemed a different race entirely. While she wasn't certain what had stemmed his dislike, she assumed he had a good reason for harboring it. That didn't exactly help her case, however. She wasn't about to extol the virtues of Lord Balan. While he'd always treated her with respect, and Isolde like a queen, Jacelyn had not had the chance to study him in depth. It could easily be as Lukas had pointed out -- perhaps he had an old enemy that had decided the time was right for revenge.

And while she disliked having to ask him for help, having to ask anyone for help, she was strangely satisfied that he was at least a little bit interested. Whether that was due to his love of money or her ability to present the contract, she couldn't say for certain, but she had a strong suspicion that it was mostly the former. As he considered, she twirled her blade before sliding it home in the sheathe upon her belt. Leaning back in mirror to his own shift, she offered the slightest of shrugs.

She quirked a brow at his sarcasm. "Lord Balan's estate is a bit to the west of here. He and Isolde rode through Sinclaire mid-morning in Balan's carriage and took the road north toward Helia. However, reports confirmed that they never arrived in that village. They also never returned to Sinclaire. There are many paths that one might take on horseback when traveling north, but only one road between here and Helia is suitable for a carriage. That narrows our search area to a day's ride. If there are signs to be found, it will be along that road."

"To your second question, Isolde is Mathis' only child, so he is well motivated to see her returned. If you have a fair number in mind, name it. I will tell you whether it is obtainable." Reaching again for her mug, she took another long pull and then held it atop her knee, side-eyeing the burly man.

Of course, if he didn't take the job, that meant she'd have to go looking elsewhere or go on the hunt alone. While she did enjoy her solitude, she was prepared to sacrifice that to have someone she could trust to defend her when needed.
 
Lukas laughed heartily as Jacelyn answered his first question. “Well now, that’s more like it! If you could find an inconspicuous fellow like me so easily, I’m sure tracking down a nobleman’s carriage along the one road it might have traveled along will be child’s play for a smart lass like you.” The sellsword paused before he replied to her further, but there was still a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye as he thought about her second response.

Being asked to name his own price was a rarity in his business, at least at the point he was at just then. Constantine had paid him thirty silvers to be his guard captain coming up from the south, and his men had each received half that much. That’d been for ten days work with moderate risk, though the trip could have taken longer if the rain had been worse; no one maintained the old road within the forest anymore and bad weather would have slowed the wagons to a crawl. He was pretty sure this Mathis paid his caravan guards similarly, but that didn’t help Lukas all that much; finding his daughter might take a day or it might take a month, and there was no way to gauge the risk with so little to go on presently. But the merchant clearly had deep pockets and wanted his only child back badly, so the sellsword thought it was only fair to name a price that would cover fortnights of work and the chance of getting caught up in infighting between noble houses. And it was a nice round number too.

“A hundred silvers, half now and half when we’re done and I’m you’re man. For that I’ll watch your back and see this through to the end, no matter how long it takes. But I get the other half even if the job takes a day and we find the poor girl dead.” Lukas grinned. “And to be clear, while I’ll do everything I can to help you, that doesn’t include sticking my head in a noose. If it turns out the girl has been taken by another noble house or some such, I’m not going to go charging in to my death to try to free her alone.” The sellsword quickly held up one of his big hands. “Which isn’t to say I’d go running off either. If we need more men I’ll happily lead them for you, no extra charge, but Mathis or you will have to pay for them.” Lukas pulled back the palm he’d held up, spit in it lightly and then held his hand out towards Jacelyn, for the ranger to shake the old fashioned way if she agreed.

“Do we have a deal?”
 
"We do," Jacelyn said, spitting into her own hand and slapping it against his in a firm shake. Her grip tightened as she pointed at him with her free hand. "Though you're paying for your own expenses out of your advance, and you'll not see a single coin until we're underway in the morning. I'm not shelling out silver tonight only to wake and find you've slipped away with your prize. Not that I think you untrustworthy, but as we are only just acquainted, I'm certain you understand the precaution."

One hundred silver was a huge reward, but Mathis thought it important enough to offer. Jacelyn had been authorized to pay double that, if needed, but she wasn't going to divulge that bit of information to the sellsword. He'd have his reward if he kept to his agreement, whether or not they found Isolde dead or alive.

Gods curse any man that hurts her, Jacelyn thought bitterly. She had excellent reasons to dislike Mathis. Isolde, however, was the sweetest and kindest soul she'd ever known. The girl had a pure heart and the ranger did not wish to see that ruined by the world. She hoped that whatever harm befell the couple, it did not involve Isolde being sold into slavery. Jacelyn knew that a noble-born daughter of Mathis would never survive it.

"Shall we return to the tavern and celebrate our agreement over another tankard of ale?" Her grip loosened to reclaim her hand if he'd release her. Quite pleased at how their negotiations had gone, Jacelyn could now relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. Work would begin the following day, with no promise of how long or difficult the journey might become, so it was prudent to enjoy good food, drink, and conversation while it was obtainable.
 
Lukas immediately realized he could have asked for more money, since the ranger had agreed to his named price far too quickly. But a deal was a deal and more importantly, he rather enjoyed the feel of Jacelyn’s hand in his. Her grip was firm and her skin was almost as rough as his, which just further confirmed in his mind that she was what she claimed to be; a scout and a hunter. But her fingers were also slender and warm, and he liked that too. So while the sellsword gripped her hand only as firmly as she gripped his, he was also slow to break contact with her after she’d suggested they celebrate with another ale; instead he grinned, and replied to her with a smile in his voice as well.

“Why do I think you just saved your Lord Mathis several stacks of silver?” Lukas laughed. “No matter, we’ve shaken on it, so it’s done.” He glanced down at his big hand wrapped lightly around hers before he went on. “And I understand about the expenses, and your need to take precautions; no offense taken lass. So aye, why don’t we have another ale, to celebrate our agreement? And since you stood the first round, it’s only fair I pay for the second.” Then and only then did he give her hand a last gentle squeeze, which might have even been a caress of sorts, before he released it and gestured back at the inn.

---

The common room had filled while they were outside talking, but Lukas was able to find them a small table when he suggested to two merchants that they might be more comfortable closer to the fire; to make up for it, he had the serving wench bring the pair a couple of ales on top of the two tankards she fetched for Jacelyn and himself. As they waited for their drinks he leaned forward a bit, so that he could talk to her over the hubbub of the other patrons and the music a new minstrel was playing. “So now, have you been in these parts long lass? The merchant I came up here with, Constantine, made it sound like something of a well off backwater. A little more peaceful than some places, and a little more prosperous too. But not too prosperous, so as to catch the attention of outsiders.” The sellsword laughed. “Of course Constantine is a fat southerner, who sometimes fancies himself to be one of the last Imperials, so what does he know?” The wench plopped down their tankards, then bustled off to attend to her other customers. Lukas picked up one and then held it out towards Jacelyn.

“To the success of our venture.”
 
At the sellsword's question of additional funds, Jacelyn only smirked and offered a wink. When the man finally released her hand, she threw him another glance as they ventured back to the inn. He was pleasant to look upon despite his scars, and looked large enough to break her in half if he got the notion. While she was tall for a woman, he was at least a head taller, and much broader. Despite his towering physique, she found him surprisingly amiable and in good humor.

Perhaps Mathis' contacts knew what they were talking about, she mused to herself.

While Lukas procured them a table, the ranger paused to have a word with the innkeep about lodgings for herself. With an unknown journey ahead of them, it was best to enjoy a bed while she had access to it. Coin exchanged hands and then she ventured to join the sellsword as he was ordering his promised ale. Settled across from him, she took the offered mug with a nod of appreciation and lifted it in toast. While considering his questions, she took her first drink and then shrugged.

"Been here a fair bit," she reported. "Mathis' holdings are to the north. Have lived there for several years now. Travel now and again with a few of his caravans in all directions, though haven't spent much time in the south. Forest keeps most out from that direction. Nearest major port is further north, so imports run through there. Sinclaire is closest to the mountain passes, so we get that trade and occasional caravan running to or from the south. Most of the wealth lies in the lands, however. Seaside villages to the west bring in great numbers of fish. Farmlands and pastures to the north for grazing. Prosperous enough for smallfolk and the nobles that depend on their labor. Mountains are said to be rife with precious metals and gems, but never seen anyone breaking free with tales of gold or diamonds. Fairy stories, methinks."

She licked ale from her lips as she studied him. "You born and bred in the southlands? Never been this far north?"
 
Lukas listened to Jacelyn’s description of the region carefully; her words dovetailed nicely with Constantine’s comments, but were much more detailed. The area did seem to offer possibilities for a man of his profession, if only he knew where to look – and scouting about with a local ranger, searching for a merchant’s missing daughter should take care of that quite nicely. The sellsword was feeling rather pleased with how things were working out and so laughed aloud when she asked if he was from the south.

“Gods no! I was born in Germania.” As he said that Lukas gestured vaguely off to the east with his tankard and some of his ale sloshed onto the floor. “On a farm outside a village called Ragnit. East of Königsberg.” The sellsword paused and scratched at his beard. “Never had much of the accent I suppose, and it’s mostly gone now.” He shrugged and sipped at his beer before he continued. “But I didn’t come of age pushing a plow. I was taken in by the Order of the Hammer early on and raised as a brother.” The sellsword looked at Jacelyn to see if she recognized the name; he didn’t think his former order had spread this far west. “They’re part of the arm militant for the Temple of Mares in that part of the world. My mother once told me the Abbot was my father, though he never treated me any differently from the other brothers.” Lukas shrugged again then had some more ale; after he’d put his tankard down he fingered the small hammer totem that dangled from his neck.

“I know Mares doesn’t usually use a hammer, but when the Varangi came down from the north and settled on Germania’s shores some of them gave up their god of war for ours. But they kept their god’s hammer as a symbol of their faith, and when they founded the Order it became our symbol as well.” The sellsword let go of the totem and picked his tankard back up. “They’re what you'd think of as mounted men at arms. In times of war we’d use our horses for scouting or raids, or to keep pace with the knights without becoming exhausted. But we generally fought on foot. And in times of peace we could easily guard caravans too, on their long treks across the eastern plains.” Lukas had more ale and thought about stopping, but then decided he enjoyed talking to Jacelyn and so went on.

“Eventually we were sent to accompany an expedition to Izantium; some nobles had decided it was time to retake all the old temples to our gods in that city. Their crusade didn’t work out as they’d intended and so I spent the next several years in Rabia.” As his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched the sellsword looked away from the ranger; as he stared off into the distance his fingers absently touched the other adornment he wore around his neck, a simple open necklace that seemed to be made of silver. After a long pause Lukas sighed as he shook his head and then looked back at Jacelyn with a rueful grin on his face.

“Finally I … put all that behind me and was able to make my way west, over the Middle Sea. Spent some time in the old Imperial capital, as well as working for the likes of Constantine in other places to the south. And then I ended up here.” The sellsword finished his ale as he finished his story and for a moment thought about ordering another, but quickly dismissed that idea. “Alright lass, I imagine you’ll want to get going shortly after first light, so I’m going to call it a night; I still have my arms and armor to attend to in the morning. Sleep well.” And with that Lukas stood, dropped some coppers onto the table and made his way out of the crowded common room …

---

After visiting the privies behind the inn Lukas went up to his room and was pleased to see the other bed was still unoccupied; he hoped it would stay that way all night, instead of being filled by someone who snored in their sleep. He drained the last of his water skin's contents then stripped down to his small clothes, snuffed out the candle and climbed into bed; a cool breeze coming in the open window felt pleasant and he could see the stars up in the clear sky as well. After ten days on the road the sellsword would normally have had a few more ales and then hired a courtesan for the evening, and that need within him made it hard to relax. But the prospect of fifty silvers in the morning was powerful incentive for him to get some rest and so he did his best to doze off. Still, as he stared out the window his mind kept coming back to a striking pair of blue eyes, and he wondered if they were the real reason he wasn’t sharing his bed with some woman for hire …
 
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Jacelyn had listened to Lukas' tale with great interest, though the places and names he mentioned were foreign to her. By all accounts, she'd lived a much smaller, sheltered life, and hadn't traveled any place beyond the few territories in the north. The circumstances of his story was familiar, however. She'd never heard of the Order of the Hammer, and told Lukas as much, but knew they didn't have a monopoly on stealing away children to war or servitude. Slavery was also common, and nearly every estate had slaves or indentured servants toiling in the house or the fields. House slaves, field slaves, pleasure slaves. The wealthy had those and more -- especially pleasure slaves. Most noble men had at least one or two to please them and their guests with song, dance, and more carnal talents. Mathis was wealthy, but not so wealthy as to boast a pleasure slave. That wasn't to say he didn't hire courtesans on occasion, but he'd stated on many occasions that he didn't desire to spend the funds and pay for upkeep. Lord Balan, on the other hand, had two.

As the large man rose to seek his bed, Jacelyn nodded in farewell and finished the last of her ale. Not long after he'd gone up, she did the same, though not without first visiting the privy and then the bathhouse for a quick wash. The steamy room and tubs were mostly unoccupied, though she heard certain familiar noises coming from one end where a traveler was enjoying the services of a hired female. Pointedly moving as far from the pair as she could, she washed without lingering and plodded wearily up to her room a short while later.

The innkeep had put her in one of the attic dormers as Jacelyn had specifically requested since it would be insulated from the noise of the common room. It was a single room with only a small bed beneath the window and a wash basin in the corner. As she'd only been on the road a single day, her shift wasn't overly soiled, but it had been soaked during the downpour and was still damp. Jacelyn left it draped over the foot of the bed and pulled on a clean one to sleep in. It was loose about her slender body and hung to mid-thigh, thin enough to keep her cool in the hotter weather, and completely unadorned. Fancy lace and ribbon would only be a hindrance in the wilds. Jacelyn much preferred the utilitarian.

As she waited for sleep to claim her, watching the moonlight spill across her floor, she thought on what the coming days would bring. There were far too many scenarios to guess at what had happened to Isolde and her betrothed, but the mystery of it rankled Jacelyn terribly. If Isolde is dead... Her stomach clenched with worry at the thought. She tried to brush away that fear. Until she saw a body with her own eyes, there was hope. The day had been a productive one, despite the setback of the weather. With the sellsword along to help deal with any possible dangers, Jacelyn could concentrate on tracking the girl.

At the price Mathis is paying, the man had better be worth it, she thought. He certainly looks as though he can handle himself. We'll likely find out whether that is true soon enough.

---

Morning broke beyond the eastern mountains in soft golden hues and stretched out brilliant fingers upon the cloudless sky, promising fair weather for early travelers. Jacelyn woke some time before, as she usually did, listening the peaceful silence that existed while the world slept through quiet of pre-dawn. The first birdsong drew her from the warmth of her bed, yawning as she dressed. Her clothes were hardy, rough spun garments meant for protection against the elements while ranging. She preferred earth tones and muted greens that blended into the forest, making her nearly invisible when she desired. She wore armor, as well, but not of plate or mail. Soft, boiled leather, dyed a rich brown, had been molded to fit torso, shoulders, and neck, and cinched tight with straps and buckles that ensured nothing would snag thick foliage or encumber her during hunting. It left her arms and legs free for ease of movement, which a ranger needed more than most. She relied on her speed more than her power to defend herself. Heavier armor might have protected her from the strike of a blade, but it would have also made her slow and clumsy. Better to simply not be where the blade landed when it crashed down.

A few others that intended to leave early were stirring, as well. The kitchen had been awake for hours preparing meals for the day, so there were a few offerings for those wanting to break their fast before travel. Jacelyn paid for cider and a steaming hand pie that scorched her tongue as she bit into it. The flaky crust was worth the pain, however, and she made short work of it as she traveled to the stables to see about her mare. The horse got the remnants of the crust while Jacelyn saddled her and secured her bags, all the while keeping an ear out for the sellsword. There was always a chance that he'd back out of his agreement, but she figured that the promise of so much coin was an excellent motivator.
 
After a restful night Lukas rose from bed before dawn and quickly visited the privy and bathhouse. After that he treated himself to a full breakfast, since he’d saved no small amount of coin by going to sleep early and alone the night before; in addition to a bowl of porridge sweetened with fresh berries he also paid for bread, cheese and a sausage to fill his belly for the coming day. As he ate the sellsword kept his eyes open for Jacelyn, but didn’t see her amid the other early risers.

Back in his room Lukas quickly packed up his meager possessions and then inspected his arms and armor; he didn’t have time to give them a proper cleaning but still ensured that all the links and fittings were tight, and that his blades’ edges were keen. Once he was satisfied he laced himself into the red wool gambeson which served as padding for his iron hauberk; the chainmail he wore was riveted and of good quality and so provided excellent protection, but also didn’t hamper a big man like himself all that much since it only extended to his elbows and the middle of his thighs. Boiled leather vambraces protected his forearms and he put his coif and nasal helmet, and the soft cap he wore under them into a separate small sack that would hang from his saddle; the day looked to be a warm one and he didn’t think he’d need to go fully armored while they were simply on the road. After that he buckled on the belts that carried his steel long sword and knife, picked up his round, iron banded shield and saddlebags, and headed down to the stables.

As he walked into the yard Lukas saw Jacelyn in the middle of saddling her horse. Setting down his things the sellsword called for a stable boy to get his mount while he collected his tack. A few moments later a bay gelding was led into the yard and as he bridled the beast it looked at him closely. “Good morning Paulus” Lukas said to his horse. “I know you were looking forward to a few days rest; so was I. But we’re back to work, so we can earn our keep.” The sellsword reached into his bags and produced two carrots, which he fed to his mount; Paulus munched on them happily enough and Lukas hoped the beast had forgiven him. Though only a big rouncey Paulus was still technically a charger since he’d been trained for war, and was as important to the sellsword as his sword, shield and armor; his order had actually preferred monk horses such as Paulus over coursers and great horses, and not just because they were far less expensive than a destrier.

After greeting the ranger cheerfully enough Lukas gestured towards the gate in the wall surrounding the inn’s grounds. “I think I can find the way back to town easily enough, but after that I’ll be happy to let you lead the way. Now about the first half of my payment …”

---

As they walked their horses through Sinclaire’s southern gate Lukas glanced at where the small riot had occurred the day before and wondered how everything had turned out; there was no way to tell, since all he saw were vendors opening their carts as they readied themselves for another day of plying their trades. Going past Constantine’s warehouse the sellsword briefly considered stopping to see if the fat merchant had any ideas about what might have befallen Mathis’ daughter, but the place was still shut up tight and he doubted the southerner would appreciate having his breakfast interrupted by a vague request for information from a former employee.

Venturing further into town Lukas saw that the southern warehouse district soon gave way to a crowded jumble of homes, inns and shops clustered around the central square; the highway continued northwards as a broad street within the town, presumably leading towards a northern gate and then on to Helia. But streets also led to the west and east from this central crossroads, heading to Lord Balan’s holding to the left and the distant mountains to the right according to the ranger. The sellsword reined Paulus to a halt to see which way Jacelyn wanted to proceed and looked about the square, which was also waking up as shutters were undone and stalls filled with goods. Then his eyes fell on two men locked into the stocks off to one side and he got a partial answer to his earlier question; one of the two was the disciple of the new god he’d seen yelling at the slaver yesterday, now presumably being punished for “disturbing the peace” or some such. A young boy stopped to taunt the prisoners but was quickly run off by a bored looking member of the town watch. As Lukas took in that little drama he saw the watchman and a few others suddenly look across the square, and he got a further answer to his question.

On the balcony of a fine looking townhouse fronting the square, two people had just emerged from a doorway; they were the two pleasure slaves Lukas had seen yesterday. Through the balcony’s flimsy railing the sellsword and everyone else in the square could clearly see how little the pair was wearing this morning. Both had black silks wrapped around their waists which amounted to little more than long loincloths; the dark color had probably been chosen not only to conceal their privates, but also to contrast with the silver lacing of the Imperial style sandals the brother and sister had on their feet. Their torsos were bare save for various straps of black leather that crisscrossed their chests, and whatever hair the boy once had, had been shaven away leaving him as smooth looking as the girl. They’d also both been oiled so that their bodies seemed to glisten in the rays of the rising sun, and their nipples had been rouged to match the heavy makeup on their faces and emphasize their partial nakedness. Black collars complete with short, silver metal leashes were wrapped around both slaves’ necks and the boys dark hair had obviously been curled while the girl’s long tresses sat piled artfully atop her head.

As a man watched discretely from the doorway the pair hesitantly walked to the railing and looked about, as if casually surveying the wakening town. But the way the boy and girl held themselves made it clear what was really happening; they were being placed on display by the slaver, to show off his wealth and drum up interest in bidding on his latest wares. A pair of the slaver’s guards emerged from the townhouse to stand in front of it, no doubt to keep the boy and girl from trying to leap from the balcony and escape while also ensuring any gawking townsfolk remained at a distance. After several long moments the slaves turned, sat at a small table on the balcony and began to stiffly and quietly eat breakfast; gone were the plucky words and sad smiles of yesterday, and the siblings seemed to now understand the fate that awaited them. Lukas briefly wondered if such a fate also awaited Isolde.

Pulling his gaze away from the townhouse balcony Lukas looked into Jacelyn’s brilliant blue eyes. “Alright lass, this is as far as I can get us. Which way now? Follow the road to Helia, or backtrack to Lord Balan’s estate and follow the carriage’s trail from the very beginning?”
 
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Jacelyn had grinned when she saw the sellsword join her in the courtyard. He was prepared for the trip, she could clearly see, and as eager to be underway as she. Not to mention that promise of payment. As he asked for his fee, she nodded. "On the road, when we're outside of town," she said simply with a pat to her waist. It wasn't wise to go about flashing large amounts of money with prying eyes about, even if most of them were friendly. Jacelyn wasn't about to reveal all she'd brought to anyone, not even Lukas.

When they reached the town square, the ranger followed his gaze, wondering what the men had done to deserve to be put in stocks. She saw the slaves on display, as well, but didn't comment. There was a tinge of sadness in her eyes as she glanced to Lukas and tipped her head toward the northern road that led from the square. Her mare turned at the barest touch of the ranger's knee to her flank, and she led Lukas on the winding path that led through the depths of Sinclaire's most populated residential district. Shops lined the path to either side with residences above. The upper stories jutted out over the lower in a quest for additional floorspace. Those here were able to linger a bit longer in bed and only just now began to rise. Shutters were thrown open to catch the morning breeze. From overhead, they could smell the beginnings of breakfast and hear the occasional cries of children or barking dogs.

The further north they road, the simpler the dwellings became, shrinking in size and wealth. Those closest to the walls lived in barely more than hovels that looked as though they'd be blown over by the first strong gust of wind. The northern gate came next, already opened by the watch, and with good reason. Carts from northern estates were arriving to set up for market, each laden with a variety of goods for sale, from fruit and vegetables to animal products and all between. Thankfully, they were headed out in the opposite direction, and did not have to contend with waiting to gain entry. The guard waved them through and Jacelyn offered a raised hand in acknowledgement as she passed.

Travel through the village had taken nearly half an hour as they were required to follow the winding road through the town and keep their mounts at a slower pace. Once they'd passed through the gate and cleared most of the congestion, the ranger coaxed her mare into a trot until the two of them were finally alone upon the trail. After glancing to ensure they were completely alone, Jacelyn nudged her mount in Lukas' direction, so close that her knee was only a small fraction from his. Like Jacelyn's shorter stature when compared to Lukas', her mare was likewise several hands shorter than the swordsman's mount, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes.

Dipping her hand into her tunic, she withdrew a full purse heavy with coin and offered it to the sellsword. "A bargain made," she offered. She'd not yet put on her gloves, so her hand was bare, but her wrist was covered with a leather cuff, also buckled, that protected her forearm from being burned by her bowstring.

"We have nae need to backtrack to Lord Balan's. I began my investigation there before riding into Sinclaire. This was undoubtedly the path they took out of the village, so we shall follow it for a piece. This road is part of the Old Imperial Road, by all accounts, though the locals have other names for it. It travels through the heart of many estates. I thought we might question any workers we might see along the way. Perhaps one might remember Lord Balan's carriage passing through, which would narrow the search even more."
 
Lukas carefully eyed the northern part of Sinclaire as they rode out of town. It seemed crowded, but no more so than many other places that were relatively peaceful and prosperous; another sign that this region might have its possibilities. That notion was confirmed by the long line of carts waiting to enter the northern gate; they seemed to be heavily laden with quality wares, yet lightly guarded or not guarded at all. If war were to come to these parts seasoned sellswords would command a high price, and that made him smile.

Once clear of the gate they trotted along for a bit but then the ranger reined her horse in close beside Paulus and stopped; Lukas raised his brows for a moment, then understood what was happening when Jacelyn offered the purse to him. He smiled again and turned in his saddle to accept the coins with his right hand, but as he did he kept his bare fingers wrapped around the ranger’s as well as the purse for a moment. “Aye, I’d almost forgotten” he lied. He hefted her hand as well as the purse in his and then gave both a gentle squeeze. “Ah, feels like fifty silvers. And I’m sure you know how to count. Thank you lass.” After a final little squeeze he took the coin purse and tucked it carefully away into his bag …

---

A short while later, just after they’d past the second of the old Imperial mileposts north of town, they came upon a decent sized party obviously laboring away to repair the road. As far as Lukas could tell a drainage channel on one side hadn’t been mucked out regularly and the bed must have eroded enough to cause the old highway to start cracking as heavy wagons rumbled over it; half the roadway was now slowly being torn up by hand and a short line of carts waited to move slowly past the work, confined to the highway by the soggy surrounding ground. A dozen field slaves were knee deep in the mud to one side of the road, stripped down to their smallclothes and collars as the dug out the ditch under the watchful eyes of a pair of guards; the sellsword couldn’t tell if the slaves’ minders were from Sinclaire or some noble’s estate. Two apprentices were chipping away at the highway’s cracked concrete, trying to free any unbroken paving stones without cracking them, while a couple of journeymen worked away under the shade of a fly tent, apparently fashioning replacement stones as best they were able; by the looks of it they’d been out here for days. A half dozen serfs bustled around it all, carrying things about as they were directed and all of it seemed to be orchestrated by an older Master mason, who was currently haranguing one of the journeymen rather loudly.

“No, no you cow! When the stones are fit together we want the pavimentum to curve, like the back of a turtle, so the water flows off the road! Have you learned nothing from me? Try again.” As the journeyman scurried back to her workbench the older man wiped his hands on his apron then turned to look up at Lukas, who had walked his horse over near the tent.

“Good day Master mason” began the sellsword in a friendly enough tone. “I’m here at the behest of Mathis, the merchant lord; I imagine you know who I’m speaking of. I can see you’re a busy man, but this lass has a few questions you might be able to answer. Why don’t you take a moment to slake your thirst and see if you can assist her?” The mason seemed more than a little put out to be interrupted as he worked, but said nothing at first; maybe that was because Mathis had been mentioned, or perhaps the fact he was being addressed by a large, heavily armed man on a warhorse had something to do with it. In any event after glancing over at the guards, who had looked up at Lukas for only a moment, the older man picked up a water skin, drank from it deeply and then wiped his mouth and beard off with a burly forearm; only then did he look over at Jacelyn.

“I don’t have all day. What do you want to know?”
 
Jacelyn eyed the crew upon the road as they approached, taking the opportunity to study the work in progress while Lukas hailed the mason. She was perfectly content to let him do the talking. In fact, she was quite relieved. While she didn't mind approaching people in business, as she had with Lukas, she struggled with speaking with any manner of authority. It simply wasn't in her nature. Over the past few years, under Gyffard's tutelage, she'd learned how to be more assertive in her dealings with the outside world. Alone, wandering the wilderness, she was at peace with herself and her surroundings. The moment she found it necessary to order someone about, she felt as though she'd collapse into a pile of ash. Gyffard had been her buffer, in those times, but she'd left the estate without him. That left her alone and vulnerable, until she'd persuaded Lukas to join her.

The man was large enough to be intimidating, which most respected. Had Jacelyn taken the same tone with the mason, she likely would have been waved off, ignored, or laughed along her way. She was simply too small and slight to command any such authority.

Not dallying in the face of the opportunity, she set her mare pacing forward to speak with the man. Leaning on the pommel of her saddle, she flicked a finger toward the road. "You seemed to have been here for some time crafting these repairs. Lord Balan's carriage came through here last sevenday. Were you or your workers here when it passed this way? Did you happen to witness it and the occupants within?"
 
The mason looked surprised for a moment, undoubtedly because representatives of Mathis had started asking him about Lord Balan for some reason. But then he shrugged, as if saying to himself “It’s all the same to me” and replied to Jacelyn in a civil enough way.

“Aye, Lord Balan’s carriage did pass through recently. He was none too happy about being delayed, I can tell you that. I tried making small talk while we cleared the carts from the road, but he was having none of it. His wife was much more understanding; she told me they were on their way to Helia to see a dressmaker and in no real hurry.” The craftsman scratched himself then went on. “She seemed a fair lady. Asked me if the hill above the cemetery was still covered in berries.” The man gestured vaguely off to the north. “I had no idea about such a thing, but one o’ my apprentices said it was.” He shrugged again. “Haven’t seen ‘em since, an’ that’s all I know.” The mason glanced over at the road then back at Lukas, as if to ask “Can I get back to my work now?”

The sellsword took that as his cue to speak up again. “Many thanks Master mason, you’ve been most helpful. We’ll be sure to let Lord Mathis know that. Your name is …?”

“Gideon.”

“Thank you again Master Gideon, we’ll let you get back to your work now.”

---

After they’d carefully walked their horses around the repairs and were back on the highway headed north, Lukas looked over at Jacelyn. “Well, he was helpful enough in the end I suppose.” The big sellsword grinned. “Perhaps he liked your smile. In any event I’ll leave it to you to pass on his name to Mathis if you agree.” The day was starting to warm up and Lukas took a swig from his waterskin before he went on. “So what do you think lass, should we press on to Helia and find this dressmaker? Or is your Isolde the type who’d stop along the way to pick wild berries?”
 
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Jacelyn tipped her head to the masons as they passed, glancing over to Lukas once he'd resumed their conversation. "They never reached Helia. Mathis made inquiries there first. His holdings are to the north, past Helia, near a smaller village. Isolde frequented Helia for larger purchases. It is a larger town than her own, near one of the eastern passes, so their stock was a great deal more varied. No one there saw sign of Lord Balan's carriage."

"If they mentioned the ruins to Master Gideon, we should divert there to begin our search. Isolde is exactly the sweet creature that would wish to do something so contrary. She's a sweet girl, but not exactly the sharpest dagger in the armory. And Lord Balan indulges her, naturally." She shrugged, not completely understanding the draw. She knew that Isolde was pretty and charming, but had never understood how men fell so completely in love with her so quickly.

She pushed the thought aside, gesturing to the road. "It is a few full candlemarks from here, and well off the road, but I know the way. The cemetery is an old one, though many locals still have ancestral plots and use it for their recent dead. There was once a watchtower upon the hill overlooking the dead, set there as a guard against those creeping into these lands through the mountains. The main passes align with Sinclaire and Helia, but there are smaller goat trails that some dare to use to escape notice. 'Tis not much of a problem any longer. Those seeking to conquer already have or were driven away. So the tower fell into disuse. I have not explored the ruins in some time, but last I saw, there was little left save the base of the tower made of stones far too heavy to plunder."

She threw him a sidelong glance as they rode. "Thank you for your assistance with the mason back there. I did not specify that part of your payment would be negotiations, but I do appreciate it. I am not the easiest with strangers. Not unless I have a task put in front of me, anyhow."
 
Lukas laughed when Jacelyn thanked him for helping with the mason. “There’s no need for that lass. Didn’t I say I’d help you find Isolde any way I could? If that includes loosening the tongue of some cranky craftsman, so be it.” The sellsword grinned as he went on. “And it really wasn’t all that difficult. As you’ll see, people just love talking to me, almost as if I was their village priest. It must be my kindly visage and warm demeanor that wins them over.” He winked at her. “But you’re welcome none the less.”

The idea of visiting some old cemetery was neither here nor there to Lukas; if Helia had already been checked the boneyard was as likely a place to look as any. Though he did have to wonder about Isolde and Lord Balan some. Driving all the way to Helia to buy a dress? That was the nobility for you. And men and women too, come to think of it. Though the idea of Isolde wanting to pick berries along the way did make him smile; it seemed like an awfully common thing to do, and the big sellsword did have a bit of a sweet tooth for berries himself. Perhaps Isolde was worth finding after all, especially since the Master mason had a few kind words for her amid everything else he’d said.

After they walked on a bit further Lukas turned in his saddle and looked over at Jacelyn. He’d noticed how she seemed a bit tense when talking to Gideon, and also taken note of her saying she wasn’t the ‘easiest with strangers.’ But she seemed to have done just fine when they were talking last night. Was that because hiring him was a ‘task put in front of her?’ But wasn’t talking to anyone who might know of Isolde’s whereabouts also part of that task? The sellsword scratched at his beard as he thought about that. Despite his joking a few moments earlier, he doubted it was his ‘kindly visage and warm demeanor’ that’d made it easier for her to talk to him. So what was it then? He wasn’t sure, and so just started talking to her in as kindly a tone as he could manage.

“So lass, you heard a bit o’ my saga last night. How about yours? How did you end up ranging for merchant lord Mathis?” Lukas really was curious about that, and not just for professional reasons. And that curiosity probably showed on his face as he waited to see if Jacelyn would answer him as they rode along towards the cemetery …
 
She threw him a glance, wondering how much she should tell him of herself. She wasn't yet certain that he was completely trustworthy, though he'd given her no indication of the opposite. Even so, he'd learned the truth of it soon enough. The brand on her shoulder blade wasn't something she could hide on the trail. She'd have to bathe eventually, and in camp there was little to no privacy. Though she had no qualms about her body, nor anyone seeing her naked, she did dislike the questions that came when others saw the marks from her past. Better now than later, she supposed.

"Mathis bought me off a northern lord," she answered flatly. "Bought and freed me. Left me in the hands of a friend, his former ranger, who trained me. I already had some skill with a bow, stalking and tracking, but Gyffard taught me to hone those skills and more." Unconsciously, she put her hand upon the pommel of the dagger she wore at her hip. "I'm working off my debt. Finding Isolde will clear the remainder, then I can go wherever I wish."

Her bright eyes sought his. "I wasn't taken when I was a child. I was born to it, and knew nothing different. Like you, I had little choice in the matter. I'm lucky enough, I suppose. Others aren't so fortunate. I might not have been had Mathis not bought me." She shrugged. "He is at least a fair master, if somewhat temperamental, and he truly loves Isolde. He'll be devastated if we find she's... if we can't find her."

She turned her attention back to the road, gaze sweeping the forest that sought to swallow them, searching for any signs of a trail. They were still some ways off, but there was no guarantee that Isolde had made it to the berry bushes. Anything could have happened before or after and any place between. Her mare plodded on without need for Jacelyn's touch on the reins, allowing her to refine her focus.

"You've never been this far north? Do you seek to settle here for a while?"
 
Lukas nodded as Jacelyn spoke of her past; that she’d been born a slave explained well enough why she seemed reticent to speak to someone like Master Gideon. And her current situation made perfect sense; if she’d shown an aptitude for ranging Mathis had been wise to nurture it, but the merchant also needed to keep her from just running off too. By granting Jacelyn her ‘freedom’ but then indenturing her into debt bondage, Mathis gave her something to keep working for as she scouted ahead of his caravans – true independence. And it seemed that if she could find the merchant’s daughter she’d be granted just that, which almost certainly meant this wasn’t ‘just another job’ to the woman riding beside him. “Curiouser and curiouser” thought the sellsword as he fingered his beard and considered the whole strange situation. But instead of probing further just then Lukas decided to answer Jacelyn’s questions.

“I’ve been to the shores of the Cold Sea in Germania, but this is the furthest north I’ve been in the West. As far as settling here goes though …” The sellsword scratched at his beard as he considered that one. “Well, I don’t know. After I … left the East I could have made my way home. But the Order would have expected me to return to its warm embrace, and after Izantium I was having none of that. I could have renounced my vows o’ course, but that wouldn’t have pleased them at all and I doubt anyone would have hired me once word got around.” Lukas thought a little and then went on. “And the South is nice enough I suppose. Pleasant weather and there’s no shortage of work. I actually have a bill from a merchant bench, one o’ the ones chartered by those Rabian outcasts who’ve become moneylenders, for a reasonable sum; I managed to set away some of the silver I earned these last few years. But I was hoping to use that to found my own free company, not settle there; it’s too crowded and everyone still plays at being an Imperial. Which is wonderful for the likes o’ me in terms of makin’ money, but would I want to live there?” Lukas snorted and shook his head in answer to his own question.

“So this part of the world? Maybe. It does remind me of where I grew up, and what I’m used to and what I like.” The sellsword looked over at Jacelyn and grinned. “Though I think I’ll look around a bit more before I decide. See if the folks here are the sort of people I can get along with.” Lukas chuckled a little. “Not that winning over folks is hard for me as I’ve said. But there’s a difference between getting along with someone and actually liking them, don’t you think?” He let that one sink in for a bit but didn’t press any further. Instead, since he had no idea how close to the cemetery they were, Lukas decided to ask Jacelyn another question.

“So how about you lass? Once we find Isolde and you’re truly free as a bird, what are your plans? To stay hereabouts and ply your trade, or take off and see where the winds take you?”
 
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