by RW Krpoun
I looked down, and Rose was watching me, gumming the hardtack. She looked sleepy so I put her into the crook of my left arm like I had seen Provine Sael do. She didn’t weigh anything at all. “See, you’re just taking advantage, though. It’s all right to let your betters take the hard work of thinking things through, but you have to contribute, and improve yourself. You’re not making hardly any progress, you’re just letting everyone do everything for you.”
Rose burped.
“I mean, even the girls cook and wash up. They’re good cooks,” I added. “You don’t know that because Provine Sael has to make your food, but they are. That’s a valuable skill. You need skills to get by in this world, the more, the better. But you have to start learning right away, and not wait too long, otherwise they start throwing letters and numbers and months at you, and it makes your head hurt. They say the pit is tough, but I can tell you, trying to handle things by yourself is an entirely different sort of tough. You have to think all the time when you’re alone, and that isn’t good.” I pondered this for a while.
Looking down after a while, I saw that Rose was asleep, the wet chunk of hardtack stuck to her cheek. I flicked it off into the wet grass, and wiped her face with a corner of the towel, which made her squirm a bit, but she didn’t wake.
Finally, Hatcher came back. “About time.”
“Pish.” She waved a hand.
“I have things to do.”
“Ohhh, she’s asleep!” Hatcher cooed, picking up Rose like the baby was made of egg shell. “What an angel!”
“That’s my towel.”
“Quit fussing.”
Picking up my chalk and slate, I studied my words.
The next day we crossed one of the endless rolling low crests and saw a line of trees ahead.
“Forest,” Hatcher observed from my shoulders. “That’s the Imperial border. The Sagrit assigned to be watching for us are really going to be surprised when we show up out here.”
“Two days to a real tavern,” Hunter grinned.
“Nice to be back,” Pieter observed.
“So where are we headed?” Hatcher asked.
“South.” Provine Sael was walking with her staff across her shoulders, her wrists resting on the ends of the staff.
“Well, obviously. I mean where are we going, and more importantly, what are we going to be doing after we get there?”
The Dellian squinted at the tree line, the hint of a smile playing about her lips. “A little rest, first. Then there’s some things we should look into.”
“Profitable things, I hope. Nothing says you can’t be a loyal Imperial subject and make money.”
“I imagine we shall be both busy, and rewarded.”
“Good enough for me.” Hatcher banged her heels against my breastplate. “What about you, Grog?”
I glanced at Burk, who nodded. “Busy is good.”
Heading south, we followed Torl’s markers into the trees and the Empire.
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About the Author
Born and raised in the icy wastelands of North Dakota, RW Krpoun joined the US Army, serving two enlistments before being honorably discharged at Fort Hood, Texas. Delighted to discover a land where snow was a novelty, he settled in Texas and took up a career in law enforcement, serving over thirty years before retiring. His service included a Sheriff's Office and two Municipal police agencies, as well as two enlistments in the Texas National Guard as a Criminal Investigator.
RW lives on lakeside acreage with his lovely and amazingly tolerant wife Ann, and a band of ill-mannered animals who are all highly photogenic. His hobbies include reading, history, various forms of shooting, collecting battle-ready examples of medieval weaponry, and learning to use such weapons.
Grog II is his twenty-second published work; he has (as of late 2020) twenty-two published novels.
