Roald walked alongside his rag-tag group of warriors, wrinkling his nose at a pile of fresh droppings left by a green-maned horse. He had never seen a horse personally, but he had heard in stories that they were beautiful majestic creatures clothed in each color of the rainbow. And while this was true, stories had failed to describe the smell. He could stare at the majestic creatures all day, running through the fields and frolicking with each other, but as long as they were a respectable distance away.
The city-state of Manesburrow was positively full of horses. Everywhere you went, there were people riding horses, horses in stables, horses on signs above shops, horses painted on shields. It seemed these northerners had quite an obsession with the creatures.
Roald was impressed by the sizable long hall at the crown of the hill, it's monotone majesty accented with streaks of gold worked into intricate knots, and the pleasing textures of wood that dominated the structure. But the city at the bottom of the hill was quite a different story. He saw all manners of decrepit old men, dirty young children and the likes, going about their daily business. At first, a sense of derision welled up inside him, wanting to walk away as quickly as he could from the ghastly spectacle. But then, he looked at the poor people lining the streets, a new emotion breaking through the cracks of his haughtiness. He felt the utmost pity for them. Men who were missing legs, and children with distended bellies, weak with hunger. He could feel himself being torn apart inside, fighting back tears in his eyes.
The party passed through a particularly narrow alleyway that led to the next ring of the city higher on the hill. Roald fought to cover the stench of refuse from assaulting his nose by covering his face with the white woolen cloak he had made himself, his monogram stitched into the breast and sleeves.
As they proceeded down the alleyway, Roald saw the most heart-wrenching thing he could imagine. A little girl, no more than seven years at the least, sat with her back against a wall of a run-down shack. The poor thing was shivering as the first winds of autumn blew through the alleyway, biting mercilessly at her dirty bare skin. Roald felt the chill biting through him to his bones, feeling as though HE was the one sitting half-naked on the ground. He felt his heart start to crack into infinitesimal pieces. He stopped, dropping the woolen coat, and stared pitifully at the young girl. She let out a whooping cough and chattered her teeth as a new wind blew by.
This time, Roald could not hold it back. A stream of tears escaped from his eyes, blurring his vision. With every cough that escaped the young girl, a stab of pain went through his heart. Not being able to take another second of this torture, he took the coat from his shoulders and approached the girl. He placed the coat gingerly around her slender shoulders, as she jumped, startled at his presence. She grabbed the ends of the coat and pulled them tight around herself, looking up at Roald with the most innocent and thankful eyes that he had ever seen. Any pieces of his heart left had now broken into even tinier pieces.
Tears flowing freely now, Roald laid a gentle hand on the little girl, already feeling the warmth of her gratitude despite the chilling winds that were exacerbated by his lack of a coat. At the end of the alleyway, Pippin cried out to him. "HEY, Roald! You coming or what?" Roald looked back at the end of the alleyway, and then back at the girl.
He walked away, drying the tears from his eyes, as the little girl spoke up in a weak and wavering little voice. "Thank you!" He looked away before more tears could come, wiping them away with his scarf, which he wrapped more tightly around his neck.
He caught up with Pippin who had waited up for him. "There you are, lets go!" Roald walked apace with Pippin, as Pippin took a double take at him. "Wait, are you crying?"
Roald cleared his throat and wiped away the last of his tears. "What? No! Preposterous! It's just... the wind! It irritates my eyes!"
Pippin scoffed, but laid the matter to rest. "Psh, if you say so."
* * *
The upper level of Manesburrow was much cleaner and well-kept than the lower level. Merchants toted carts into one of the three market squares situated around the crown of the hill, shouting out prices and haggling with customers. The smell of horse droppings was substantially repressed by the savory smells of cooking meat and sizzling vegetables. Still higher above this level was an even more restricted level full of richer and more decadent houses. Though, by what Roald had experienced, only a few of them would even pass for summer homes compared to the mansions he had seen in Camelot. And at the very crest of the hill sat the long hall, in all it's gilded glory.
The group slowed to a halt and rested for a while on the side of the road. Just feet away was the awning that hung over the door to a pleasant-looking pub. Swinging over the awning was a carved wooden sign covered in old paint. It depicted a black bird with its head tucked under its wing, and was framed by painted gold words that said "The Craven Raven."
Thomas re-shouldered his pack and grabbed up his staff after a short rest. "Alright men, I need you to scout for some information while I speak with the Thane. You should probably start here at this pub."
Pippin sauntered up the steps toward the door. "Hey, don't mind if I do!"
Thomas put a hand on his shoulder, locking him in place. "Make sure you don't draw any unwanted attention to yourselves. This is still sort of a secret mission if you forgot."
Pippin brushed off Thomas's hand, theatrically offended. "Moi? I'm the master of subtlety!" Pippin then turned about-face and caught his foot on the bottom of the top step, causing him to hit the wooden front door with a loud clunk.
Thomas sucked in a sharp breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Jack leaned over and picked the half-unconscious Pippin up by his shoulders. "Don' worry Tom, I'll keep an eye on him."
With that, Thomas set off for the top of the hill. Roald watched him go, and then looked warily at the pub. It didn't look to dirty, but there was no accounting for the unruly savages that were most definitely occupying it at this very moment. When Jack opened the door, subduing Pippin as much as he could, Roald, to his utter chagrin, found that he was absolutely correct.
Honestly, it was only an hour past noon, who visits a pub at this hour? The answer, of course, was this group of lovely and outstanding gentlemen. Men as large as Jack stood alongside weaselly little men smaller than Shane, all of them with hair colors ranging from the lightest northern blonde to dark coal black. Beards long and beards scraggly and unkempt hung from every face in the room. Roald felt extremely uncomfortable as a couple of unkempt ruffians eyed him with predatory eyes at a table nearest the wall.
Pippin, on the other hand, seemed right at home as he walked up to the bar and slapped a few coins down on the counter. Loud enough for everyone to look up simultaneously, he called out to the bartender. "Oi, let's see somma that wicked northern brew!" A group of especially violent looking ruffians eyed him with contempt.
One of their number, a hard looking bald man with a thick red beard and a row of uneven teeth, spoke up. "Looky here, lads! This'n reckons himself a Nordfolk!" His group of ne'erdowells chuckled like a group of dirty sheep. Pippin had donned an unbreakable poker-face as he grabbed the mug of ale the bartender had set down and brought it in front of himself without taking his eyes off of the group. The bald man spoke to him in mock baby-speak. "Aw, is the wee one thirsty?" He turned and spoke to the bartender. "Oi, Dunnel! Ye' can't go around givin' ale to wee babies! Get this wee pink baby some milk!" The dirty flock of sheep bawled a raucous laughter at their shepherd's command. Donnald the bartender shook his head and mumbled to himself as he wiped a glass clean.
Roald watched as a very unsettling gleam swept over Pippin's eyes. Pippin turned up the mug of ale and emptied the entire pint in one gulp, and then smashed the glass mug against his head. He had not even drawn blood.
The entire group of ruffians had gone completely silent. A few of them looked as if they were about to need new pairs of pants. The leader gulped and drew up his resolve. "A tough one eh? Dunnel! Give us a round, on me! And keep 'em commin'!"
Donnald gave the group a half-smile as he started filling up mugs by the twos. He set four of them down and began filling up others. Both Pippin and the dirty bald man grabbed their respective glasses and stared each other down. "Last one standin' wins!" Roald looked away, appalled and less than willing to watch how this would play out.
He looked around for something else to look at, the sounds of the crowd of ruffians cheering on the drinking contest at the bar overwhelming. He saw Jack talking with a squat bearded man with one eye. Looking further, he saw Shane and Dash talking together at a table near a corner of the room. He was at least glad to see Shane warming up to other people for once.
He picked up on their conversation as he walked over to them. "Well, I lived in the Vale for a while, but um, I just never got the hang of being a seer. And I didn't want to join the army, so I moved to Mannsville and started taking care of animals."
"No way! You're from the Vale? What's your house sigil?"
Shane looked down and uncovered the doublet he was wearing under his yellow coat. The sigil on his breast showed a group of three pink butterflies. "I was part of Meadow House before I moved out. They weren't too happy about it, since everyone in Meadow House is a seer, but I still visit from time to time."
Dash kicked his feet up onto the table. "I know what you mean. My Grandma wasn't too happy about my choice to join the Guard, but I have about as much foresight as a rock. Still, you could have joined the peace corps. You know, medical team, or something like that."
"Well, I tried, but I get kinda sick at the sight of blood, so doctor was out of the question."
"Are you kidding me? I saw you back there in the woods! You were awesome! You could totally handle an axe on the battlefield!"
Shane let out a nervous laugh. "Heh, yeah. I um, really don't know what came over me back there." He swallowed a lump in his throat and clutched his arm to keep from shaking visibly."
Roald had a feeling that this conversation was about to get really uncomfortable, so he went to see what Jack was talking about. On his way over, he couldn't help but notice that Pippin and that rather rude gentleman had already downed five pints of ale apiece. Ugh, the savages.
The squat fellow Jack was talking to had gotten up and was about to leave, giving Jack a brotherly embrace and patting him on the back. Jack followed him out the door and shouted his farewells to the man. Roald walked up behind him as he shut the door. "So, who was that?"
Jack looked back, surprised. "Hm? Oh, that was my cousin Craig from the Highland Apple clan. He was just tellin' me 'bout how he's doin' and all that. I ain't"
"Did you ask him about what's going on with all of these disturbances?"
"Oh yeah! He said there's been a rumor that a gang of wargs has been gatherin' at Shivering Creek just north of here. But no one's paid much attention to them, on account of they don't amount to more than a glorified cult. Until now, that is! Craig said that his wagon got ambushed last night by somthin' big and hairy that was wearing armor! And several other townsfolk from around here say that someone's carvin' sickle moons into the trees and on people's doors!" Jack held out what appeared to be a dented piece of iron shaped like a crescent. "Sound familiar?"
Roald thought hard about what he had just heard. Something was definitely wrong here. "If the legends are true, then there has to be a sorcerer that allowed these men to become wargs. If we can find out who it was, then the case is solved!"
Jack pushed back his hat and sat down at a table. "Easier said than done, I reckon."
Roald wiped the grime off of the chair next to him and sat down. "I hope that Thomas comes back soon." He glanced down at his gilded pocket watch and gasped. "It's almost five after-noon! We've been here for three hours! Where has Thomas gotten off to?!"
"Calm down, man. He's seekin' audience with the Thane, that's bound to take a while."
Roald danced his fingers on the table anxiously. He then realized that the sound of the ruffians had stopped all together. He looked back to the bar and saw the sheepish group gathered around their red-bearded leader, who was sprawled across the floor. Pippin drained his glass and set it down next to eight empty ones. "Oh my lord!"
Jack looked up and around. "What? What is it?" He spotted the glasses on the counter by Pippin. "Sweet Celestia of Equestria! He drank NINE pints?!"
"How disgusting! Where does he put it all?!"
Jack got up from the table and headed for the door. "Okay, it IS gettin' pretty late. I'll go see what Thomas is up to. Mind this one doesn't do anything stupid."
Roald called back under his breath. "It's a little too late for that."
Jack opened the door and squinted at the sunset. It was just a hands-breadth away from nighttime, ad they needed to get a move on. Just as he was about to step down into the street, Thomas came walking through, his pace fast as Spike struggled to keep up. "Jack! Gather up the team! We have some serious business going on here!"
"Woah, slow down, what's goin' on?" Thomas shouldered past him and opened the door to the pub.
"I'll explain on the way! We need to go, NOW!" He stopped dead in his tracks as he stared through the open door. Pippin was standing on top of a nearby table stomping out the beat being played by a lively fiddle. He stuttered in disbelief. "Wha..."
Jack came in after him and saw the display. Others around the bar were cheering him along and singing a rough bar tune along with the fiddle. "Aw, Pip! What are ya' doin' up there?!"
Pippin laughed and danced, clearly inebriated. Thomas looked anxiously at his watch and then growled at Pippin. He took his staff and brought it down hard on the floor. The table Pippin was dancing on started to shake and then threw him off. Thomas caught him in a cloud of magic and brought him forth until he was clutching the collar of his shirt in his hand. "Enough fooling around, let's go!" The bartender glared at them from behind the counter and was about to say something, when Roald took a hefty pouch of coins and tossed them to him as he exited, leaving him more than appeased.
The rest of the team got up and followed Thomas out the door, Pippin still in his grasp. They were all walking briskly down the road that lead out of the city as Pippin wriggled free of Thomas' grasp. "Alright, I'm fine! You could have just said 'let's go!'"
Jack and Roald quickened their pace to walk by Thomas' side. Jack was the first to speak up. "Thomas, what the hell are we doin' here? Would you at least like to fill us all in before ya' drag us to who-knows-where?"
Thomas stopped and steadied his breathing. "You're right, I'm sorry." He pulled out a map from his pack and opened it up, showing the rest of the team. "Those wargs that attacked us this morning are part of a gang called the 'Moon Brothers.' They have been allegedly causing disturbances all around this area for the past couple of weeks. Before then, they were just a mock gang that met up in the woods, but recently all of their gang has been turned into wargs by some unseen force. The Thane suggested it was a powerful necromancer, but we can't be sure. All that we DO know is that they are having a huge gathering tonight just north of the town. There's supposed to be an initiation for some new recruits, and the Thane fears that they plan to attack the city at moon-rise. We HAVE to get there and investigate before that happens, so time is of the essence."
With that, there were no questions and they moved forward. They began to run until they could see the edge of the forest. Deep within the bracken and branches was a huge burning fire and a group of shifting black shadows. Thomas' heart sank like a rock. There had to be at least a hundred of them there, and all of them wargs!
The group stopped for a breather on the outskirts of the forest line. Roald was breathing heavily with his hands on his knees. "Couldn't we have gotten some horses? I am NOT running halfway around Equestria like this!"
Thomas got up from his squatting position and stretched his back. "Tell you what. If we make it out of this alive, I'm buying you all your own horses. My treat."
* * *