The People in the Cracks

[Lighthawk76]

Sleep came in fitful bursts to Matthew. The sounds of breathing from the others around him were a welcome sound he would gladly dream to, but the cold which his blankets seemed to fight vainly against and the howl of wind coming at just the wrongs times were unknown things to the warm blooded farm boy far from home. He lied in the massive bed with the boys of the Kettle family, all four of them soundly sleeping through the cold weather.

With being this far south, it was strange even in Salvar to be as cold as it was. The lower areas were normally farmlands and the main source of food for the country. Winter was coming earlier this year and apparently with more fury. The older folk of the village, full of stories of years past, were making daily comments about the strangeness of this winter and the bad omens it was promising.

The winter wasn’t the first bad omen though. From the merchants who had come through, fewer by far than most years, there were of rebellion and war in the capital, traveling armies putting villages to the torch for insubordination, and priest who were condemning whole towns to the pits of hell. There were even rumors of the Sway releasing dread beasts upon the lands to destroy their enemies. Each story was more and wilder than the last and talk was even being made of armies of dead holy men appearing all over the world. “Surely, these are the end-times,” was heard throughout the village.

In all this turmoil, Matthew had chosen to come and explore the supposedly pious nation of Salvar. His travels as a page of the Suffering Servant beckoned him wherever the light of the Servant must be shined. Many who he had spoken to of his faith and his church, said that they sounded much like those of the Salvarans, with their strict church hierarchy and veneration of long-ago heroes. He had been leery of the so called similarities, but had decided to come and see what the faith truly was. Perhaps he would be the first to bring the light of the Servant to these people.

He had not gone far before he had come to the small village he was now living in. It was a relatively independent village, on the outskirts of one of the large southern fiefdoms. A greedy noble had allowed his lands to grow too wide with not enough vassals. Thus the fiefs were large, with much of it uncared for. Officials came to the village infrequently to collect what meager taxes the people could scrounge up. The church had little influence, with an outdoor small altar which saw few visitors during the day. Little distinguished it from the bland altars of Corone and Scara Brae used for the lesser known and worshipped gods. The closest priest and church was a day’s walk to the lord’s manor of the fiefdom. Still, even here, where the faces of the church were absent, much of the same taboos were still observed.

The village had welcomed Matthew kindly. Once learning that he knew how to help on a farm, they grew exceedingly friendly and made him feel as if he was part of their village family. He had denied all forms of payment, believing food and lodgings to be enough. While they were constantly curious about his life at home, his travels, and even a bit about his weapons training, whenever they uncovered some path of his life which opened upon his faith, they grew quiet and uncomfortable. Whatever this faith of Salvar was, it held a firm grasp on the people. The only ones who would truly hear of his faith were the older folk, who nodded sagely but made no real efforts to learn. They simply fulfilled their curiosity. Some of the younger folk were highly interested, having never heard such a tale as that of the Servant. Their superstitious mothers and father would quickly pull Matthew aside though and warn him of the Sway’s intolerance of other beliefs, and ask that he not risk their children with such stories. He had given in to their request, but four of the boys his own age continued hounding him, and the parents, frustrated with their inability to keep them away from such dangerous knowledge, gave in.

Matthew didn’t hold formal lessons with the boys, but they would talk during their daily chores. One, John, was exceptionally bright and had picked up on the highly intellectual theology of the faith within a week. He was know scholastic, but had the budding mind of one. The other three, Luke, Mark, and Mathias, were much more interested in the stories of the Servant and the world he came from. Mark wanted to know all about the man, Mathias all about his culture, and Luke all about the growth of the church. Matthew was an unskilled teacher but he tried his best.

Among the chores of the village and keeping up with boys’ questions, Matthew always made sure to spend some time on his own. He spent his evenings after dinner in prayer and weapons practice. While he spoke of his weapons training when anyone in the village asked, he vehemently refused to teach the boys anything when they inevitably asked. The boys needed to learn how to farm, not go off on adventures. In fact, if not for the fact that he was an unneeded, though much loved, extra mouth to feed back home, he would still be working on his own farm. He only traveled out of a sense of duty.

So while he was plenty comfortable and happy throughout the day, his nights were times he wished he could skip over. He was surprised his constant tossing and turning didn’t wake the boys. Before he knew it, day was breaking. He got up, not refreshed but ready for the day. The boys were still snoring as he got up and dressed. Their mother would be in soon to rudely awaken them and get them moving.

The young man walked some distance out of the village with his Book of the Servant. The morning was cloudy but Matthew felt confident the sun would come through by the end of the day. Finding his small patch of earth he prayed upon daily, he recited his meditations and read a passage from the book.

As he finished he stood up and was buffeted by a single gust of strong, icy wind. He was cold for a moment, and his eyes were drawn to the west. The clouds were blowing in from that direction, and they seemed to be darker, though held no promise of rain. Cold feelings came over him, and his confidence in the sun waned. He lifted up a prayer as he went back to start his work.

[Taskmienster]

Collin tapped endlessly on the screen in front of him. The new system seemed to have more bugs in it than it did anything else, leaving him with more work than fun. He pushed the headpiece down further and leaned back in his leather seat. “Are you finding everything to your satisfaction?” The words echoed through his thoughts, but the source of the voice was unseen. The programmer removed the headpiece and the blinding white light of the screen he trapped in for hours left his vision foggy. Spots dominated his sight, and he blink to try and remove them. “Is there something wrong?”

“Too much,” he responded as he placed the headset on the ground to his side. His hand played with his messy hair and rubbed his face as if he was exhausted. The office was quiet as it had been lately. Nobody wanted to make too much noise around Collin since he was testing the new technology, nobody wanted to break his focus. It didn’t help much, since the smaller version of the virtual reality program was fraught with problems that still needed to be fixed before it could be trusted. Collin turned his weary face to the President of GramVR. “I’m not sure what to do with half the stuff that’s commin’ up wrong. I can program easily enough, but this shit seems to be mistakes made by the original programmer and the way it was set up. I might just have to go ahead and wipe the way it was programmed and rewrite the entire nonsense…”

GramVR, a virtual reality programming company known for their educational games was using Collin in order to branch out into different realms of gaming. Educational tours of countries, allowing the user of the VR program to not only visit virtual representations of the country but interact with actual people of that culture, was losing interest and in turn making profits slip. It had come time for them to engage in the gaming community and bring to bear a world that no gamer could pass on. Unfortunately for them, the greatest programmer they had on staff was also the only one that had any chance of creating the fantasy world. Collin was alone in his genius, but that was not the issue at hand. They wanted too much, too fast, and he was unable to pull any of it using the new smaller version of the Virtual Reality Pod system.

“Hmm,” George Heartcliff III, the vice president of the company huffed. His arms were folded into his Armani suit, a relic of the past. His wrinkled, aged face was in its perpetual frowning state. Collin stood up and shook his hand, giving a sideways glance at the headset on the ground. The office’s stilled silence was shaken off with a quick glance by Mr. Heartcliff, and was soon abuzz with activity once again. “Do you think you could rewrite the programming soon? We are hoping that we will be able to get these into production as soon as possible. We were also wondering as to how the game itself was doing? Have you made any progress with Althanas?”

“Not yet, I am doing well not to get caught, but until I follow their rules regarding the level system I’m not going to be able to do much. Once I get a few more levels under my belt I’ll be able to worry less about being caught because I’ll have more power on my side.” Collin shrugged and plopped into the leather seat and put his head in his hands. “If you don’t mind I’d like to take the headset on a quick run in Althanas, see if I can work it as well as I can the pods, see if there’s anything to be had.”

“No no, be my guest, I will check on you later.”

~*~

The white entry screen of loading the server dissipated eerily. It was unnerving to the player behind the virtual reality game. Dark colors streaked the white, lines that widened and narrowed before going fuzzy and fading into a complete blackness…

Lars opened his eyes, shaking his head and looking around. Something was in the air that caught his immediate attention. It was like standing in a freezer in the back of some fast food restaurant, stale cold filled the dry air. The small room he was in was composed of worn wood and some sort of slick, apparently never drying black substance lining the cracks. It was assuredly a room of a small in, complete with uncomfortable bed in one corner and a small mirror with a bowl of water in front of it. The hacker stood up and checked his gear, all the daggers were still up either sleeve were they were supposed to be. He looked out the window and saw a rather depressing sea of fog that stretched as far as the clear skies and soft morning light allowed his vision. What he could piece together, looking through frosted glass not yet thawed by the sunlight, was that the land was cold as cold could be and the forceful winds were pushing lightly against the glass…

Wherever the glitch in the headset had brought him he knew one thing for sure, it was not the civil war torn island of Corone, or the broken lands of the high elven people. He was in a quiet and cold land, a land he did not know nor could he place a possible name to. There was nothing to be had but a careful exploration of the lands and an attempt to piece together information enough to take advantage of the glitch or fix it later. “Where the hell am I?” he questioned no one in particular, as he pushed aside the door and stepped into an empty hallway.

[Lighthawk76]

The day’s work began as soon as Matthew returned from his prayers. The only time he had before going out to the barn to care for the animals was for a quick bite of bread, egg, and cheese. Entering the barn, he joined a young girl, Kylie, in tending the horses. She was the daughter of the horse master, and an impassioned girl who had decided that Matthew was to be the next stallion she broke. It gave Matthew no end of grief, especially with her father.

“Good morning, oh holy one,” she spoke in greeting. Her smile carried both sarcasm and mischief, and the tilt she gave to her body carried something completely different.

“Good morning, Kylie,” responded Matthew, going about his work and trying to keep the girl to his back. Kylie was a healthy girl, with a body kept strong by hard work and thick by hearty meals, curvy at the best of places. She was blond, blue-eyed, and had a temperament which should have belonged to a red-head. And every time those thoughts passed through Matthew’s head, he had to recite his future oaths and dwell hard on his path in life.

He was a young man, and Kylie was definitely what a young man wanted. The knight in him knew he couldn’t. His order was cause of more than enough bastards in his homeland, and he didn’t need to leave any here.

“So, who’ll you be riding this morning,” asked the girl.

“Thunder here, but I won’t be riding him. We need to bring that wagon out to the field to help with carrying in the crops. Hopefully we’ll need someone big and strong.”

“I know I do.”

Matthew let the comment pass as he quickly quelled his bemused smile.

“Maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Oh you will. Maybe you can help me bale some hay later.”

Matthew got out with Thunder in tow before he began showing. He crossed with the large horse over to the Kettle’s house. John was already preparing the wagon and Thomas Kettle, his father, was coming around the corner with the hands he was using for the day.

Matthew slowed a little as he saw the family wasn’t going to be quite ready yet. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a strange face looking out from the small inn. He had lodged there for a night until the Kettle’s decided to house him. The face there now looked to appear from another outsider. Matthew hadn’t seen his face in the few weeks he was here. His hair was high and spiked, and a ring hung from his lip.

Curiosity came over the young page as the face disappeared. He quickly jogged over to the wagon, left Thunder with John, and returned to the inn. He couldn’t make out anything in the windows.

“You know I have a window to my room. You should check it out tonight.” Matthew turned and scowled as Kylie passed by on her horse. She sported that same smile.

Matthew stepped into the inn. Off to the left he saw the strange face again, wrapped up in a white-furred jacket.

“Hello,” said Matthew tentatively.

[Taskmienster]

The hallways were void and his voice resounded off the blank walls. Silence overwhelmed him, and a sense of unease descended over him. Cautious steps brought Lars through the lonely area. His boots clicked against the worn wooden floors, each step bringing with it an ungodly loud creaking noise that made him want to wince. Instinctively he brought his hands to his chest, pulling out a small pack of cigarettes from one pocket and steel lighter from the other. The butt of the cig found its common place between his chapped lips, a feeling that made him calm down and brought with it a sense of ease and comfort. Ethan didn’t light the stick of tobacco but let it linger and dangle as he moved away from the room he had woken in and towards the end of the hallway.

The soft, never worked hands of the hacker slid along the walls of the hall as he took careful steps towards the end of the hall. He was trying to take in everything at once. The ends of his fingers caught bits of peeling plaster, the flakes falling like snow with the lightest of touches. He could hear his footsteps as if they were the only noise to be heard. But truth be told, there were other noises on the edges of his hearing that he could make out. Children laughing and playing, horse’s hooves clicking against a rough ground, and the sound of adults calling after the kids in an attempt to relay some sort of verbal order to the chaos of the early morning… the clamor was almost as relaxing as the cigarette. The frigid, still air was a sharp contrast to what he was used to in Corone, much less Scara Brae. It had the lingering taste of frost, mingled with something stale like a room without circulation.

“I must be on the mainland,” Lars mused as he pushed aside a door along the wall. It opened to the chill morning air and the lackluster sun with its false promise of warmth. The hacker looked both ways, seeing women and men atop stout horses and waiting wagons lingering in the background. A few people looked his way, their heads turning like confused dogs before he closed the door after himself and retreated back to the void and silence. They all looked as if they knew each other, their faces had been full of glee and his appearance obviously did not fit with what they were accustomed to. “Fuckin’ cold out there,” he mumbled.

Obviously he was lost, and not really liking where he was at. He pulled his jacket close and put the two sides of the zipper as close as they would go. Unfortunately the leather jacket was more a sense of fashion than worn for any practical use… the thick white fur lining kept his neck warm, but the leather did very little. As he turned and began to walk the world ‘twitched’. Lines broke his vision and caused the hallway to sway and shift as if he had just finished a drinking binge. It was the virtual reality headset though; the bugs were creeping in and jolting the server’s sense of reality. If the hacker was not a product of a computer programming mind, and a normal character on Althanas like any other, he would have undoubtedly thought himself sick.

“Oh, hello there,” Lars responded pleasantly with a smile that was slightly offset due to the precariously dangling cigarette and shifting lip ring. He turned around back towards the open door and shivered slightly as the morning draft slipped through the opening and whipped through the narrow hall. Intelligent thought was all but forgotten and in its place he said the only thing that came to mind. “What’s up?”

[Lighthawk76]

The appearance of the young man before him, more specifically his dress for being so far north, was somewhat intriguing.

His jacket was also a strange choice of attire. The black leather may be a good buffet against the wind, but the garment would need to be much thicker to properly protect one from the constant permeating chill. One would also need a jacket large enough to cover one’s torso for it to be of use.

His mouth also intrigued Matthew. The ring about his lip was normal enough, a fashion trend the page would never understand, but the small white stick protruding from his mouth was very strange. It appeared as a grain of wheat would from farmer’s mouth, or perhaps a pipe, but it seemed too unnatural to be anything like the former and too useless to be anything like the latter.

Many sights had come across Matthew’s path however, and a man dressed strangely was nothing terribly jarring, though clearly intriguing. If stories were to be believed, there were men walking about with clothing apparently tailored perfectly by unknown agents, and women who went about in chain small clothes.

What was jarring to Matthew was the man’s greeting.

“What’s up?”

The larger man blinked a few times as he thought of the question. His eyes looked above him to see nothing out of the ordinary, and a glance out the doorway revealed the same. He patted his head to see if anything sat atop it, and glanced at the other’s spiked hair to see if anything was there.

“Well, I’m not sure what you’re asking,” was all Matthew could say in response, “I have work to get to, but I’m an outsider, as I believe you to be as well. Please feel free to come and get me if you have any trouble.”

With another questioning look, the page turned toward the door.

[Taskmienster]

The man’s build was stout, full and heavy set. He had the look of a farmer, or more a farm hand, the ones that did something on the farm instead of just giving out orders and watching from a distance. The bland yellowish eyes of the man were fitting to his overall visage. To Ethan, he looked like nothing more than another silly character created for the sole purpose of filling space on Althanas. However, his intrigue had brought him inside the inn instead of overlooking him. That spoke volumes for his intelligence, which was undoubtedly non-artificial. His curious nature caused him to remain and ponder as Lars waited for any sort of greeting, much less a response along the lines of ‘hey’.

Looking around was a sign that the man was as naïve as most of those on the server, either that or Lars had said something that wasn’t quite right. Instead of responding cheerily with a greeting the man stated the simple and factual. He had work to get to, the hacker was interrupting his daily monotony, oh how fuckin’ rude of him. Lars didn’t take kindly to rude or short people, and whether the man meant to be one or the other was unsure. What was well known, to the hacker at least, was that the farmhand was stupid and had angered him. “So damned sorry chap, carry on with your tedious boredom, don’t want to be the lively wind of change that sweeps through this cold fuckin’ place.”

He brought the lighter to his cigarette and lit the end. It ignited like a small ember and with a quick puff he spit out a puff of smoke. The flavor lingered, the nicotine gave him an almost instant buzz, and with the start was an instant reprieve from his riled state. “Don’t mind if I join ya’, do ya? The name’s Lars, well Ethan but everyone calls me Lars. I’m an outsider, as I suppose you know by now.” The hacker took another puff of his cigarette and concentrated on his clothing and the coding surrounding it. Within a split second the cold, grating winds that slipped around him were all but forgotten and his clothing was suddenly warmer than any wool coat could hope to be. “Got off on the wrong foot, I don’t want to intrude on your chores, but I’m kinda bored, you know? What’s there to do around here?”

[Lighthawk76]

The odd man’s sarcastic tone pulled Matthew back from exiting the inn. Matthew was brisk with his wording, but he was quite sure he had treated the man relatively evenly. He could think of no reason why such hostility would pour out the man, some frustration perhaps, but not such hostility.

As Matthew paused, pondering the man and thinking he may not get along with the unconventional aspects of his attitude, he watched as a small metal box was brought up the stick in the man’s mouth. With a flick of his thumb, a small tongue of flame appeared, apparently being sucked into the stick. As he finished his sucking, the man puffed out a bit of smoke.

It was like a pipe! It was the strangest pipe that Matthew had seen, and seemed, with its lit end slowly disintegrating, to be non-reusable, but a type of pipe it clearly was. And the metal box was clearly some kind of magic. Perhaps this man was a kind of wizard or sorcerer.

As the man introduced himself, Matthew felt a small, well, something, and the man, Lars, was no longer shivering. In fact, he appeared quite comfortable. With the clothing he had, there was no other explanation besides some form of sorcery. Matthew would have to watch his step, there was no telling what kind of power such a man possessed.

“Yes, I believe we did get off on the wrong foot, Lars” responded Matthew, leaving his belief in the man’s judgmental and sarcastic speech as the source of this “wrong footed-ness” unspoken. “Forgive me for my somewhat blunt demeanor. You’re initial question puzzled me. ‘What’s up’ must be a local saying I don’t quite understand.

“I can’t offer much of anything to do at the moment. As I said, I have chores that need tending to. I’m sure we could use an extra hand, or one of the families around here.”

The sound of clip clop signaled the sudden approach of a horse just outside the door, and Matthew winced visibly, knowing who it was before he heard her voice.

“Yes, Kylie?”

“My father said I needed to get someone to help me bring in some water from the creek. Just a wagonload. I’m sure the Kettle’s could do without you for an hour.”

Without turning around, Matthew smiled somewhat wickedly.

“I’ll need to help the Kettle’s but I’m sure this young man would love to help. Interested Lars?”

Feel free to bunny me if you take the bait. Just have me go off to help with the Kettles.

[Taskmienster]

Little towns were full of droll tasks, and it seemed that the man – who had been un-obliged to offer a name for himself – was pulled into them nonetheless. Lars shrugged and pulled on his cigarette. There was little else for him to do to keep himself occupied, so menial chores would have to do for the time being. He let out the smoke slowly and watched the pungent aftermath dance in the small draft that was pushing fitfully through the hall. It caught his eyes and made them water, but it was nothing a few quick blinks and a shake of the head did not fix. “Since chores are all there is to do I’ll be happy to help for a bit… maybe get to know the locals a little better. Don’t want to be an outsider for too long.”

The hacker was a jovial fellow, bordering egocentric. Charismatic as he was, he enjoyed little more than to plunge headfirst into other’s affairs. At the very least he’d probably find a few drinking buddies for later. Surely they were not all stuck up, rude people like the one man he had so far seen. Lars followed him out and listened to the small talk that passed between a woman outside and the farm hand. She had a melodic voice. It was sweet and soft, but with a playful undertone that made the hacker’s face warm and his loins shift. An hour to get water? It must have been a ruse of some sort to drag the farm hand out with her for a good bit.

When the conversation dragged Lars in, he could not help but smile. He shifted the heavy belt buckle to his left hip, straightened his V-neck shirt, and slowly walked towards to door to see who the voice belonged to. “I’d be more than willing to help,” he said in almost a purr, “Getting to know the locals a little better is what I said I wanted, and who better to help me with that chore?”

He exited the door past his first companion and smiled to the woman before him. The horses she held back were heavy set, built for work and little more. He sighed as he slipped the cig from his lips and exhaled again, puffing out small circles with the skill of a patient smoker. The winds caught them and dragged them away, but left the effect that he wanted. Kylie giggled at the odd sight, and nodded to him approvingly. “So, where’s this water at?” He said with a gentle smile crossing his enthusiastic visage. “And wouldn’t it be frozen over by now? It is quite cold.”

“Hop up with me Lars,” she said as he extended a hand. It was slight, just like her frame, and no doubt offered more as a chance for the two to have contact than to actually help him up. He put his hand in hers with a gentle grasp and with his other hand pulled himself up to the seat next to her. The wagon shifted slightly with his weight on the spoke of the wheel, and she giggled in her enticing way. “It is not far, and we shall see about it being frozen over. It is unusual cold this year for southern Salvar, but I am sure you and I can warm it up or break the ice…”

“Now you are speaking my language. I’m quite skilled at breaking the ice, and warming up a cute girl is second nature.” He turned to the farm hand and smiled sheepishly. “I suppose we shall meet again in an hour or so, thanks for giving me something to do in the meantime.”

Kylie snapped the reigns against the back of the horses and led them away from town and towards a rather lackluster, frozen forest. Green was not a prevalent color, or so it seemed, and Lars wondered if the lands of Salvar were being freed from a cold snap or just coming under its grasp. The two talked and laughed, never getting too close or overly friendly in a suggestive way. Within ten minutes they had found the edge of the quiet creek. It was slightly covered with ice in the few places the water was not running, patches off to the sides that could not have been more than an inch thick.

“You can get the skins and pots,” Kylie said as she hopped off the seat and landed in the fallen needles that littered the ground. “I’ll tie them down and follow shortly.”

The two worked slowly, chatting back and forth about the weather and the town. Lars learned a good deal about where the glitch in the VR headset had forced him. A quiet town on the edge of the map, it was hardly touched by the outside world and nearly forgotten by the powers that rumor held were locked in a civil war of sorts. That changed while they were alone.

Galloping horses charged through the woods, racing towards where the two were busy. Lars looked up as Kylie gasped, stepping behind the hacker. A company of three men reigned in their mounts and looked over the two, obviously less interested in what they were doing in the woods alone. “By order of the King I am here to protect and serve the citizens of this area. I am Count Girard, and my troops are headed towards the town as we speak. Have the sickly band of the Sway yet come to this land and tainted it? If so I would be remise to have to break the peace in such a… gentle area.”

“Not sure what you’re talkin’ about mate,” Lars responded as he reached out and accepted rather official looking documents. He scanned them and let the woman behind him look them over as well. They were signed and the seal was broken, as if this was not the first place the grand Count had ‘come to rescue’. “But the town’s not held by anyone, and it seems that the peace here is only going to be broken by your appearance.”

“Lowly child,” the man said as he tugged the horses head away from the two and pointed towards the town. “We have not come to make war, but bring peace and security. It would be wise of you to hold your tongue regarding matters you do not fully understand.” And with that the band of men spurred their horses and headed back the way the two had come from. Ethan shook his head and hurried back to the wagon, their task only half done but other issues boding ill will were to be taken into consideration.

[Lighthawk76]

As the girl and her wagon galloped away with the new stranger beside her, Matthew suddenly felt a sinking feeling. He hadn’t wanted to deal with Kylie tens of passes, especially alone and out in the woods. He had an oath he would be taking, and to allow himself to break it before he took it… Well, few were the paladins with chastity problems that appeared after their oath.

Kylie sure had been able to change those feelings quickly when a second stranger appeared. Matthew guessed the man was handsome, in some slimmer way. He had a hard time figuring out how it was that women were attracted to men. It hurt a little to have Kylie so quickly change objects of affection. It would be easier for Matthew, now that she had another man to keep her busy, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed all of the attention.

It wasn’t that which gave Matthew the sinking feeling though. His feelings for the girl, if they were feelings for the girl, were confused by the matter, but nothing which truly made him worry. What worried him more was the fact that her father would not be terribly happy with his daughter gaining a swiftly growing belly.

Any man who adjusted his pants before going off with a girl alone made Matthew worry that he may cause such a problem. The fact that Matthew put him in this position was simply icing on the cake.

The problem was not one he could deal with at present. His concern only finally blossomed into that sinking feeling when the wagon was far and gone. With a shake of his head, he ran over to the Kettle’s wagon, just preparing to make its way out into the fields.

“Who was the new fellow?” asked John as Matthew took his place beside him on the back of the wagon with the four boys.

“Yes, do tell,” spoke up Pa Kettle from the front as he guided the horses. “I’ve never seen such hair as that boy’s got sticking up from his head. Now such tiny clothes.”

“He’s an outsider, came in last night I guess. Didn’t really get along well. I mean we traded…

“Well, uh, he gave me his name, Lars, and I said I had to get to work.”

Matthew grimaced, and shook his head.

“Well, sounded like you didn’t trade pleasantries, if that’s what you were first saying. Boys, what’s the first thing you make sure to know about someone and make sure that someone knows about you.”

“Each other’s names,” spoke up the boys.

“That’s right. Then you’re both on even fields.”

“Pa’s umpteenth rule of social correctness,” whispered John to Matthew. “Kylie came by looking for you. You get to talk to her before she went off with the new guy?”

“Not really, but I knew what she wanted. I sent Lars along trying to get her off me.”

“Look, I may be interested in all this Holy stuff you keep talking about, but I think you’re stupid for not taking Kylie Handler on her offers. I mean, I’d kill for the looks she gives you.”

“You’re fifteen, John. Once you grow up a little you’ll understand.”

“Understand why a man would give up the chance to play in the hay with Kylie Handler? That’s an understanding I’m looking forward to. Pretty sure I know it-stupid, crazy, or a little of both.”

“Does you’re mother know you talk about ‘playing in the hay’ with Ms. Kylie Handler?”

“Course not.”

“Do you want to keep it that way?”

“You can be a son-of-a-bitch sometimes Matthew.”

The page gave the boy a scolding look, than laughed quietly.

* * *

It only took twenty minutes of tilling soil until Matthew and the four boys were taking off their outer jackets. The chill air, which had been so problematic and annoying to Matthew the night before, had now become a cool relief to sweating brows. The younger three were complaining to their father, but John tried his best to take after Matthew.

The older page was happily stoic about his work. Even as he trained to join the order, he had gone off to work with his brother in the fields as often as possible. The work kept him big and firm, and there was something gratifying in having a body made strong by the same work which put food on the family table. Not that he hadn’t complained as a younger man. He remembered acting just as the young three, and having his father acting just as Pa.

“Come on Pa, let us have a break.”

“Shut up, and work, you’ll get a break in an hour.”

“An hour?!”

“Want it to be in two? Now get to work before you get a two minute break for me to tan your hide.”

Matthew smiled fondly.

It was an hour into work that the bell began ringing. It was constant randpm ring-a-ding-a-ling-a-ding-a-ling-a-ring, that could only be caused by someone shaking a cowbell. Pa Kettle looked back towards town with an angry look on his face.

“Looks like something’s happening back home. I bet those Handler boys are making some kind of trouble. Where’d such a good man as Handler go wrong and raise up two problem making children and a girl who’s too feisty for her own good. Come on boys, leave the horses and wagons out here. I bet we’ll be back soon as we figure out who’s hide to tan.”

Matthew hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the new guy. He didn’t know if he was trouble, but if he was, then it was Matthew’s fault that the trouble was let loose. And if the man was the source of the trouble, than Kylie was involved, which just made it worse.

It took them another few minutes to jog back to the village, and there they clearly saw what the bell foretold.

A small battalion of mounted men, a meager fighting force but more than enough to lay waste to such a small town, was lining up in what was considered the town square. They appeared to have just arrived, calming down and quieting mounts still jumpy from galloping. Their apparent leader, a portly, greasy haired man wearing armaments which looked impressive but Matthew knew were for naught but show, was in the middle of addressing from a scroll the forty or so collected folk of the village. He was flanked by two heavily armored men. There armaments were not in the least bit flashy.

“…and so, with the kingdom rampant with the filth of the false church and the lies of the pretender Denebriel, I, Count Girard, have been given the honor by the lord of you lands to be its protector and caretaker during this trying time. My men and I are prepared to stand in the face of all who would oppose the god-sent sovereignty of his highness Iorlan Rathaxea.

“We understand the people’s desire to stand up for their king, but we must demand that you allow those given the authority to deal out the king’s just to do handle this matter. You will still be of the greatest help, however. Our men require housing, beds, food, upkeep of our armaments, upkeep of our clothing, shelter for our mounts, upkeep of our mounts, upkeep of our saddles, reigns, and horsing equipment, among other necessary needs. The people of Salvar, out of love for King Iorlan Rathaxea, will be the one’s to fulfill these needs.

“As such, all people of the village will, from this point forward, be confined to their homes, so as to be able to quickly fulfill the needs of the soldiers of Salvar. Do not worry about your well being, the rebellion of the false church shall be quickly quelled and you may then return to you common life.

“For the King!”

With this last remark, Girard gave his men a few curt commands, and they began moving.

The two flanking him immediately moved to the small, meager, bare altar which served as the religious image of the village. One was a slim man, a halberd at his back and his armor placed lightly over his body to allow for movement. The other was a massive man, a huge broad sword strapped to his back. The large one got off his horse, unsheathed his blade, and brought it down upon the altar. In three heavy strikes, the altar was naught but rubble.

The rest of the men began ushering people to their homes none too kindly, or began inspecting houses, some even brazenly entering and coming out with food, cloth, or other items of note in their hands.

“Let’s get back home boys, quickly.”

Pa Kettle took a hold of the youngest two, ten and eleven respectively, and began guiding everyone back to their house. No soldier had made it their yet, and the boys’ mother was standing outside waiting for them with worried expressions.

Matthew was taken aback by the soldiers’ swift and rough implementing of the decree. He moved by instinct, following the Kettle patriarch’s orders as if he was his own father. Thankfully he blended well enough for the soldiers to be blind to his status as an outsider, and caused no ruckus.

Once they were all inside the house, worried glances were exchanged. Ma and Pa kettle stepped aside to talk, and the boys huddled together. Matthew went over to the foot of the boys’ bed, pulled out his bag from underneath, and flipped through his Book of the Servant for a passage on peace. He then paused over a passage on righteous fury.

When he finished, he pushed the book deep into his bag, took off the beads he wore around his wrist and placed them within as well, and pushed the bag far underneath. His hands brushed his weaponry as it came back. He wrapped his hand around the handle of his poleaxe and said another prayer.

He then sat atop the bed and waited.

[Taskmienster]

By the time the two rolled back into the town with only half the jugs of water filled the town was already in a state of chaos. People were being issued to their houses, and those that went willingly were being followed in. Soldiers wearing the colors of the noble had armfuls of linen, food and barrels of ale, as well as whatever else suited their fancy. A few girls were being surrounded by grubby faces, harassed by the ‘liberating forces’ sent by the king. Lars seriously doubted their intent was on liberation. If there was some form of civil war between the king of the lands and the religious faction it seemed to the hacker to be the perfect time for any noble to extend their lands.

“Wha-What is going on here?” Kylie’s gasped words were spoken in horror. Her eyes were darting about, trying to absorb everything at once. But even Ethan, who had seen so many things in his gaming time, was at a loss. The packed dirt streets were stirred by the men’s motion, sending small clouds of grime all about them. Winds eddied and drifted listlessly, catching the motion and the men alike, twirling the small clouds of dust into miniature cyclones. The hacker hopped off the wagon and extended a half-assed hand towards the woman to assist her down. “Is this what the Count was talking about?”

“’Suppose so,” Lars responded as he held her soft hand. There was no coy caress or flirtatious glint in his eye. “You should get back to your place, I’m sure your family’s going to be worried about you. I’d say just leave the wagon, I’m sure these guys are just gonna take your shit later anyway…”

“And what are you going to do? Go back to the inn? The place is going to be crawling with soldiers. You should go find Matthew and stay with the Kettles, or come back to my place.” An invitation back to a girls pad would normally have brought a devious smirk on the face of the hacker, but it was not the time or place. There was no undertone of possible fleshly satisfaction.

Ethan shrugged and shook his head, he was only half listening. The struggle between soldiers and women was slowing down; the townspeople were standing up for the morality of their daughters and wives at the very least. “I’ll figure something out,” Lars said as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “Hurry home; keep safe, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Kylie smiled and hugged the hacker with a small peck on the side of his cheek. She thanked him quickly and hurried off, walking as fast as she could towards wherever her house was. A strange feeling fell over him though as she left, watching her sultry form weave its way through the purple and gold livery of Count Girard. The soldiers stopped their hurried ‘sanctioned’ looting of the houses and their loud laughter when she passed. Eyes of greed and lust followed her, some barely pulling away to look down the path she had come from and make contact with Lars.

Instead of rushing to the inn and attempting to force his way back to his room, or argue to gain a new one, the hacker hurried after her. He shoved roughly through small groups of soldiers, who had but moments before parted like the red sea for Kylie. His hands grasped shoulders and touched the sides of the men as he moved and tried to negotiate his way through. Their armor was all the same. He could feel the light clinking of chain mail beneath their counts colors, stroked the soft brushed steel pauldrons they wore on their upper arms. If push came to shove, Ethan wanted to know where to hurt them the most.

His fears were well placed. As soon as he rounded a corner after the young woman he found her trapped between two men on the side of one of the many simple houses on the street. She was trapped, her hands at her side. One of the men touched the side of her arm and ran his gloved hand up her long sleeves. “Please stop,” she said almost in tears. “I need to be home, my father’s expecting me.”

“You’ll get home, we’ll escort you there,” the man behind her said while the other laughed. “But nothing in this world is free, and the payment is one both of us need after so long a ride to liberate and secure your town. Besides, escorting you home will let us know where to go when we want to collect more payment…”

“Get fuckin’ off of her,” Lars said, the one with his back to him turn with a cocksure smile on his face. “She said she needs to get home. And unless I’m mistaken there should be no need for an escort so long as there is nothing to worry about… right? Come to liberate and secure? Then there’s no worry for a girl to get home alone.”

“And who are you?” One guard said as he pushed her aside and into the wall. Kylie fell to the dirt and gripped her arm, but scurried to her feet. She was prone to run, ready to flee should something bad happen, but waited with a look of concern. “Someone from the mainland come to take over what he can while Salvar is in peril? A spy for the Sway? You know who you are? You are whoever we decide you are, and I think you are in league with the enemy of the King, and therefore under arrest… which you undoubtedly attempted to resist.”

Lars moved faster than any normal human should, a dagger in either hand before the first one could remove his short sword. He pushed forward and smashed the plain butts of the steel blades into the side of his temples. The purple and gold livery was stained the blood dripping from his nose even before his eyes could fully roll back and his heavy armor drag him to the ground. The second guard pushed forward and swung his sword, but caught the wall and dragged the steel edge against the stone. Knives were far more useful in close combat, and the swords were at a disadvantage, giving the hacker the easiest victory against any opponent that he had yet faced in Althanas. The second guard received a heavy hand to his chin, followed by another to the side of her turned face.

“Lars! Hurry away, go find Matthew and stay with them.” The guards head thudded against the opposite wall and opened wide, spilling blood into the dirt streets in pools of crimson. “You’re in danger now.”

“I will, hurry home and keep safe.”