by Cox, Craig
Alex stopped tying his boots and stared down at the leather, he had thought about them every night. He knew Cornshie would have accepted them with open arms, the three towns had always been a close knit group. People moved between them frequently throughout their lives, Alex hoped that the thugs who attacked hadn't followed them there.
"Alex, we are here now, you’ve done what you said you would do and you have got me to Alton. If you want, you can head back to Cornshire, I'm sure Page will be able to help you and you could take Troy back as well."
"Ha, and leave you here alone. You wouldn’t know what to do without me. Plus I don’t think Troy will leave you or leave Magnus's side for a while yet. The boy has grown fond of you, he used to look up to you, when you worked in the butchers and since you saved his life you’re almost like a living god to that boy."
"I think he just likes playing with Magnus."
Alex waved it away, he knew his friend was fond of the boy as well but let it drop. As he stood up and stretched, he could feel the fabric stretch and almost tear, the clothes Page had brought were almost correct in length, however, the shirt made him walk like a scarecrow as it was so tight across the chest. He was tempted just to rip the shirt so that he could move, but as it was a gift from Page, he decided against it for now. The two headed back to the front of the baths, handing over the coins to the two young men, before heading out into the fresh air. They walked in silence for a while, heading back towards Page's rooms, the Citadel was full of servants running backwards and forwards for their masters, Alex wondered if any of them were Page’s men. Alex felt a little uncomfortable, there had never been long silences like this in the past between them, but he knew that Braden had a lot on his mind, so he understood why, but he still didn’t like it. They finally reached a garden that was empty, it was only a few minutes away from Page's room so he wondered why no one was here.
"What do you think I should do?"
The question was unexpected, Alex was happy that the silence had been broken finally, but wasn’t sure what his friend wanted to hear.
"I'm not sure Braden, it's your choice."
"Yes, but what would you choose?"
"Well, I could get use to the Baths, the massages, the food and the servants as well as all of this."
He opened his arms and looked around at the spectacular garden In front of them. He looked back at his friend and smiled, Braden's face was devoid of emotion, which hurt Alex more than anything else.The silence continued, Alex kept looking at his friend who just stared off into the distance. The silence was broken by two women walking across the garden, both were carrying large baskets of what looked to be dirty clothes. As soon as the two spotted Alex and Braden, they stopped their conversation, the closest of the two looked them both up and down before continuing their conversation in hushed tones.
"The women here are also a lot better than back in the Shires or the Roost." His friend smiled again at the comment, hopefully Alex thought he was getting through. They took a seat on one the empty benches which lined the courtyard.
"Do you think anyone in Farnshire knew?"
"Knew what?"
"Who I was?"
"Thinking about it, yes I think I do."
His friend looked over puzzled, Alex smiled, more to himself than to Braden. For once he had figured something out before his quick witted friend.
"A man turns up to Farnshire, a skilled swordsman who only wants to train one person in the entire town. A man, who seems to be a better swordsman than any Knight in the Roost, a man who seems to know your mother. When you leave for Alton he hands you a sword which is a mark of one of the nine greatest Knights of your Father’s house, and happens to teach you to fight like one of those knights. I think that someone did know."
"Bronn... he did always seem to be there no matter what happened."
"Like a watchful guardian over the heir to a High Lordship."
"But then, why didn’t he say something and why did he only turn up when I was fourteen, thirteen years after my father died."
"I don’t know, you would have to ask him yourself, I guess. Maybe he didn’t know about you until then."
"I guess I will."
"So have you decided yet?" His friend just gave him an exasperated look, before he stood up and made his way back down to Page's rooms.
Chapter XXVI
Braden
They spent the rest of the day in Page's rooms, Braden had begun reading Seymour Korr's book whilst Alex had taken a midday nap. When Ashe returned from her bath, she looked a different woman. Page had returned, just as the light was fading and spent a short time eating with the group before rushing off again to deal with more 'Paper Work'. The next day Braden had shrugged off Alex's offers to accompany him into town, he needed a little time alone. Ashe had helped by dragging Alex off to West Alton, to view some new blacksmithing techniques, which by the wink Ashe gave Braden, it seemed to be an elaborate lie to give him some space. He passed his papers to the guard at the High Alton gate, who meticulously looked over them. Braden didn’t see why they guarded the gate so strongly on both sides, but he made no comment as by the look in the guard's eye, he was not impressed by Page's signature. Eventually, they let him through and he emerged into Greater Alton. The busy road which circled High Alton, headed into the heart of the district, only a handful of people approached the gate itself. Braden moved across the road and into the town, the sounds and smells were a great distraction for his racing mind. He preferred the bustle of the busy district, than the quiet roads of the High Alton reminded his of his home. Farnshire had always felt too quiet for Braden, he was happier in a big town or city. His dreams had always been of the Roost, becoming a retainer for the Cranes or a city guardsman, but now he stood in the capital with the opportunity to rule a land as great as the Roost itself. They were strange thoughts to have and as he walked through the city, passing stalls selling foods from across the country and from lands beyond, he wondered if there was anyone else like him walking Alton’s streets. A bastard of a nobleman, who would be living in wealth and grandeur, if only his mother had worn a ring, but instead had needed to scrap and fight for every morsel. As he continued to walk through the streets, he took turns at random intervals, lost in his thoughts he made no conscious effort to keep track of where he was in the city. The streets became narrower and less crowded, the people changed as well. On the main streets everyone was either a salesmen or a customer, but back here the workman carried the wares to and from the shops out of sight. Braden dodged out of the way of carts and men for over half an hour before he heard shouting which dislodged him from his thoughts. The noise stopped him in his tracks, he turned his head from one side to the other, trying to find which direction it was coming from. Stepping round the next corner, he heard another shout, but it was quickly silenced. Braden felt his chest burn and become heavy again. Straight ahead of him, was a group of four men, from a distance they all looked the same, tall, strong and dark. Not only from the clothes they wore, but from their body language one glance told him that they were up to no good. But as Braden took another step closer, he saw that one of the men was barely on his feet, two of the others had their hands under his arms, holding him up for the third to strike repeatedly into his body. The shouts of pain were now replaced by an almost silent grunting every time he took a hit. Braden's chest was on fire, he raised his hand up over his heart before nodding to himself. The cold metal of his father's ring scratched against his skin. Striding towards the group, he took a deep breath and puffed his chest out as much as possible, he knew he wasn’t the biggest man, but he needed to look confident.
"Hey! Let that man go!"
The one who was throwing the punches turned around to face him, as the others looked up. The look in their eyes was one of malice and evil.
"Be gone boy, or you will end up like this one."
The puncher shot a fat thumb in the beaten man's direction. Braden kept walking, his chest was getting hotter, but the w
eight lifted and he felt lighter than before. As he got within ten steps of the men, they dropped their victim, giving him one final kick in the stomach to keep him quiet. The leader cracked his knuckles and wicked grin lit up his face.
"Looks like another Alton hero ready to fall."
The other two let out a quick laugh, as Braden broke into a slow run. He covered the final few feet quickly and came up straight in front of the first man, as he was struck in the throat, his eyes widen with shock. Braden's body felt as light as a feather, the deep burning in his chest seemed to lend him strength. The punch landed perfectly and the man crumbled to his knees gasping for breath. Braden didn't have a second to think about him as the second man was already on him. Blocking a punch to his ribs with his left arm Braden struck out with two quick jabs to his face. The first bloodying his nose, before the second broke it, forcing him to stumble back. As he turned to face the third man, he caught a punch across the face, Braden's neck snapped back. Anger shot through his body, but his hours of training with Bronn took control and he immediately raised his arms to cover his head from the second hit, which came within moments. He was still a little dazed, as another shot came this time his ribs. Clenching his teeth at the pain, he stepped back away from the man, but the attacker closed in straight away swinging, as he did. Braden intercepted the punch with his right arm before snapping a quick jab towards the man's head. As it connected, Braden raised his leg slamming into the man’s thigh just above the knee, forcing it to collapse beneath him. From the corner of his eye he saw the first attacker charge at him. The men were clearly just brawlers and thugs, with no real training or thought put into their attack, just relying on their power, Braden deduced as the second man swung another wild punch towards him. Catching the man's arm, he brought up his elbow into the already broken nose crushing it even more. The man screamed out in pain, before Braden lashed out a kick into the man's chest sending him tumbling into the dirt. Facing back to the main attacker who was still on his knees rubbing his thigh. Before the man could attack again Braden slammed his knee into the man's face knocking him out.
"You've had it now boy."
The croaky voice was followed by the rasping of metal on leather. Braden turned to see the second man draw a long knife from a sheath behind his back. He reached around his own waist to find nothing remembering Page's warning of taking a weapon back out into the city. 'Steel only causes problems for the man carrying it in Alton.' Noblemen and their guards were the exception to the rules, but when it came to a lowly retainer of the court historian, it was a fact. The second man launched himself forward slashing the knife back and forth as he came, Braden knew he was going to take some damage, before he could knock the man out but how much he wasn't sure. Just as the second man got within arm’s reach a deadly thud echoed across the street as the man fell first to his knees, then to the floor, a large knife protruding from his back. Braden looked up from the body, to see the group’s earlier victim, on one knee, a large grin on his face. The man slowly got up and began moving across the street towards Braden and the fallen attacker. Braden tensed unsure of what was going to happen next. He watched the victim reach down and take the blade from the attacker’s hand before pulling his own from his back. Braden's chest was still burning but the heat had changed. It was now a cold burn which made him pause before speaking.
"You didn’t need to kill him?" He said.
"He was going to kill you, boy."
The man's voice was rasping, impaired by the beating his body had taken.
"That doesn't give you the right to kill him. Especially from behind, that’s not honourable."
The man broke into laughter, cruel laughter. It ate right through Braden. It died off, as a coughing fit took hold of him. He smacked himself on the chest a few times to try and correct the breathing before talking again.
"Honour doesn't exist in this world, boy. Not in Alton and especially not back here. But I like your optimism, plus you helped me out. The name's Knox."
He stuck out a huge hand, it looked battered and worn. Years of abuse had taken its toll on the skin, his palm was crisscrossed with scars and the back of his hand was covered by a tattoo which swirled up his arm. Braden looked down at the man's hand, before looking back into his eyes. A smile appeared over Knox's face and the fire in Braden’s chest slowly disappeared.
"Braden."
He gripped Knox's hand and he could feel the years of abuse, had built up unrelenting muscles in his handshake.
"Well, nice to meet you Braden. Thanks again for helping me out."
Knox placed a big hand on Braden's shoulder, before patting him on the back. As he did, three men rounded the corner into the street, Braden immediately tensed up and braced himself for another fight. Knox pushed past him and began walking towards the three his face was full of anger.
"Where in the nine heavens have you been?" Knox erupted.
The three men dropped their offensive stances and their heads dropped into their chests.
"Why the hell did it take you this long to get here? Well? I would have been dead if not for this boy here. How can a boy be better than all of you? By the Gods!"
Braden watched from a distance, as Knox dressed down the men. As he moved closer Knox’s voice quietened, all three men were standing stock still, not moving a muscle. Knox walked up to each one whispering into their ears. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but by the look on each man's face, Braden knew it wasn’t friendly.
"Braden, come over here."
He slowly walked over to the group, who were now all smiles.
"This Braden, is three of my feeble rag-tag army, who couldn’t keep time, if their mother’s lives depended on it, let alone mine."
"Umm, nice to meet you, I guess."
"Look Braden, what do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
"Nothing."
"Good, you’re coming with us. I owe you a debt and let me start paying it with some ale."
Knox pushed him forward through the three men before turning him down another street. As they walked through the back streets of Alton, Braden seeing a completely different side to the Capital. Gone were the shiny surface and sprawling shopfronts and the stalls which lined the main route. This part of the city was made up of little winding roads. Along each road, small courtyards sprouted off, each surrounded by houses three storeys high. Knox explained that each building was split into small flats, the cheapest were at the top, the more expensive at the bottom. These little communities were almost self-sustaining, carpenters, tailors, cooks and food vendors all lived together helping each other through each week.
“Where do you come from then Braden?”
It was one of the men behind, who asked the question.
“A small village called Farnshire, in the Roost.” The man whistled in response.
“You have travelled a long way to get here, Braden, what made you come this far, a woman?” asked Knox.
Braden realised he had potentially said too much already and made a mental note that honesty was not the best policy at the moment. Page had warned him, before he had set off in the morning, not to reveal too much.
“No, gold. Everyone wants money and I heard Alton is the best place to find it.” Knox broke into laughter and slapped him on the back again.
“If you know the right place to look, you can find a lot of it.”
They had arrived at a crossroads, a few of the little communities sprouted out from the four roads and on the corner sat a large singular building. The sign above the door read ‘The Cock in the Crown’ and a red cockerel wearing a crown and jester’s hat was painted over the door. Two burly men, who looked rather similar to the three behind, stood on either side of the door. The tavern was quiet at this time of the day however Braden could still hear voices inside and he could see shadows in a number of windows upstairs. Knox ushered him inside past the two guards and into the main room. The room itself was massive; you could easily fit over a hundred patrons al
ong the multitude of benches which lined the breadth of the room. A long bar filled one side, a man and a woman stood behind it, serving the twelve men in the room. They all turned to look at Braden as he walked in and not one was smiling. The closest two men began to get out of their seats before Knox walked in the door behind him. The barmen shouted a greeting to Knox and the others followed suit, the woman then noticed Knox’s bruised face. She jumped across the bar, clearing the high wooden surface with ease. Walking up to Knox, almost knocking Braden of the way. The woman was of average height and slight build, her dark clothes clung to her body tightly, black leather trousers and a brown shirt, left little to the imagination. Long brown hair framed her face and walnut eyes, full of purpose gleamed in the light.
“What happened?”
Knox went on to explain about the attack on him. Braden didn’t understand the first part, as a number of names and terms were used. Finally, when it came to his involvement, a few of the men from the bar came over and clapped him on the back or shook his hand in thanks. It seemed that Knox was a well-liked man and an extremely respected one as well. Once the story was finished the dark-haired girl turned to Braden and gave him a big hug.
“This is Kova, my daughter.” Knox said over her shoulder.
The girl pulled back, she had a rough beauty about her. It was a different kind of beauty to Ashe, they both had wild looks in their eyes, but for different reasons.
“I owe you a drink for helping my father.”
Kova dragged Braden across to the bar, pushing him down in-between two other men. This time she walked around the bar instead of leaping over, and poured two drinks plonking them down on the surface in front of him. The two mugs where made of pewter, both had seen some extensive use over the years, one even had a rather large dent to one side. Kova took hold of the dented cup and raised it towards him. Braden followed suit raising his own cup knocking the two together before raising it to his lips. The liquid was sweet yet had a strong bitter aftertaste, as he drunk away he watched Kova easily finish off her cup in one swallow. Determined not to be outshone by her, he forced himself through the bitter aftertaste and finished the mug only seconds after Kova. As he placed the cup back on the surface, Knox placed his hands on his shoulder.
