R. Salvatore - The Bear

"My friend Laird Ethelbert is such a man," said the old general, drawing another chuckle from the laird.

"No man has lived a better life than Ethelbert," the laird replied. "All that I have known I owe to this city, my home. It has served me through the decades, loyally and with love. A sorry father I would be to Ethelbert dos Entel if I cowered now behind her walls. Perhaps Dame Gwydre's plan will succeed, and all the world will be brighter, but even should it not, my friend, Ethelbert dos Entel will be better for my going. That is the truth I am faced with, and you cannot disagree."

The general sat stone-faced.

"And so I am called to be a man of courage," Ethelbert continued. "And so 'tis the time for Laird Ethelbert to truly serve the city that has served him for so long. I am not afraid and am not saddened. To see these walls broken by the stones of Yeslnik, to see him ride victorious through the gates… that, Kirren, would bring me tears."

"I know my role, laird," Kirren Howen assured him. "Should you not return, should the armies of our enemies arrive at the gates of Ethelbert dos Entel, I will…" He paused and took a deep breath, then drained his glass. "I will surrender the city to the King of Honce," he finished, and Ethelbert lifted his glass in toast.

"Is it that you wish to embarrass me? Or anger me?" Bannagran said to Bransen, who was walking in his Highwayman outfit and not wearng the brown robes Reandu had given him.

"You employed the Highwayman, did you not?" Bransen asked a bit too innocently.

"Or like a child, you wish to see how far you may stray before the paddle is applied."

Bransen's bored look almost taunted Bannagran to try just that.

"I am not your subject, Bannagran."

"Laird Bannagran!" one of the Pryd nobles insisted, but Bannagran himself held up his hand for the man to shut up.

"You claim that you wish to make your home in Pryd Town," the laird reminded. "That would make you my subject indeed."

"On this march, I am your…" Bransen paused and considered his words carefully here, finally turning to Reandu as he finished, "your mercenary. Yes, that is a good word for it. I found your soldier in the forest and saved his life, so perhaps we should discuss my payment."

Bannagran's grin was not one of agreement, Bransen knew, but he pressed on anyway. "You wish me along because you fear Affwin Wi, as well you should. I wish me along because I have unfinished business with Ethelbert's murderess. That is the extent of my intended service, and truly you have asked no more of me. But there is more, perhaps."

"I have little time for your riddles," said Bannagran.

"I am your mercenary," Bransen explained. "Affwin Wi I will defeat because I must and for my own selfish needs, but I bear no antipathy to Laird Ethelbert's soldiers or to the old fool himself. One laird is as awful as the next, after all. That ambiguity is double-edged, however. I'll not work toward Ethelbert's defeat out of any sense of loyalty to you or to that idiotic Yeslnik, surely, but that does not mean that I will not work toward Ethelbert's defeat."

"Loyalty to Pryd Town, then," Master Reandu said. "It was ever your home, Bransen, and certainly that means some-"

"It means nothing," Bransen harshly interrupted. "It was the place of my torment and my indenture."

"I don't believe you."

"You hold many false hopes, brother, not the least of which is reflected in those atrocious robes you wear so proudly."

Reandu merely shook his head and sighed.

"So you will not serve laird or king, but will do battle against Ethelbert," Bannagran clarified. "For gold, I expect."

Bransen smiled. "Do you wish their left ears, or the whole head?" he asked. "A king's gold coin for each I deliver. Do not look so sour at the notion, Bannagran. Consider instead the value I bring to your ranks."

"Why would not every man in the ranks demand the same terms?" asked the same noble who had earlier scolded Bransen.

"Why would I care if they did?"

"You are truly a wretched creature," said the noble.

"I?" Bransen asked innocently. "Am I the man who trampled the fields south of Pryd, driving the villagers to the foothills and an existence of sheer savagery? Am I the man who has claimed the land as my divine right, marching armies over folk who want no more than to fill their bellies on occasion and find a warm bed at night? Am I that man?"

"You have not the couth to be called a man, any man!" the noble retorted.

Bransen laughed at him. "Then I am an animal. Do you fear animals?" He stopped when he noted Bannagran scowling at him.

"Consider my terms, Laird Bannagran," Bransen said. "I promise you, it will be the best expense of your campaign."

To everyone's surprise Bannagran did not dismiss the notion outright, and his expression and posture revealed his intrigue. Clearly, he was considering how he might best utilize this mighty weapon known as the Highwayman.

Bransen nodded and started away, but the nobleman stopped him short. "Laird Bannagran has not dismissed you!" he scolded.

Bransen swung about. "Every time that fool speaks to me, add a silver coin to the bounty," he told Bannagran. "Or I will cut the bounty in half if you allow me to deliver his head for the first payment."

An exasperated Bannagran motioned the nobleman to silence and waved Bransen and Reandu away. On the word of Laird Bannagran himself," Bransen insisted, holding out his hand.

Master Reandu stared at the hand, then back at Bransen, while several other brothers whispered in small groups all about them.

"A sunstone, a malachite, a lodestone, a soul stone, and a cat's-eye," Bransen reiterated when Reandu didn't move.

"I read the laird's note," Reandu replied dryly.

"And yet you hesitate."

"No good will come of this," Reandu said as he fished in his belt pouch for the desired gemstones.

"Was it the mountains of dead soldiers and townsfolk that convinced you? Or the razed villages and ruined fields?"

"Your insufferable sarcasm tries my patience."

"Sarcasm or truth?" Bransen retorted. "Is it that Master Reandu hasn't the heart to open wide his eyes, preferring instead the somber reassurances of chapel artwork?"

"I was not speaking of the war," Reandu said. "Perhaps we are closer on agreement on that matter than you might believe. Nay, I was speaking of your evil pact with Laird Bannagran."

"Evil?" Bransen replied, feigning hurt. "If the laird heard your term for his decision, you might find yourself at the wrong end of a swinging axe."

"Enough, Bransen! I said evil because that is the word I meant to say. You fancy yourself an assassin now? The man I knew in Pryd Town was no assassin."

"And yet I killed men in Pryd Town."

"You defended Cadayle. That is not the same thing."

"And now I will kill enemy soldiers," Bransen reasoned. "Is that not the point of war?"

"That is not the point!" Reandu's volume brought several gasps from the gathered monks and Reandu turned on them angrily and waved them away.

"Then it is the means to the point, yes?" Bransen said more quietly as the others shuffled away.

"It is one thing to do battle on the field of honor-"

"A most stupid description," Bransen interrupted.

"And something completely different to go hunting for victims," Reandu finished.

"As Ethelbert sent his assassins to kill Laird Delaval?"

"Yes! I knew then, immediately so, that the assassin could not be Bransen Garibond, even when convincing evidence and King Yeslnik's declaration all pointed your way. I knew immediately that Bransen, the boy I knew as the Stork, the young man who grew strong and sure, could not have done such a thing."

"If I thought it would end the war, then I would kill Bannagran, or Reandu, right now," Bransen argued. "If I believed it would end the war, I would kill myself!"