Time to go home

Trace had been curious that the young women from before were not there when he went inside the inn for breakfast. The innkeeper and his wife were in some sort of terrible disagreement, so he bided his time while eating his meal.

It was good, but looked only half-finished somehow. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. The argument continued behind him.

"You philandering toad!" The wife was screeching. Trace concentrated on this breakfast, trying to tune the woman out.

"Go back to bed and rest," The innkeeper was glancing around the inn furtively, clearly worried about the customers overhearing the angry conversation.

Trace contemplated the shape of the pastry. Round, with a slight imperfection on one side. He tried to think of reasons that would have caused such a blemish to block out the continued arguing.

"Good luck taking care of everyone yourself!" The innkeeper's wife wailed sarcastically, finally leaving the room.

When she was definitely gone, the innkeeper's shoulders sagged. He inhaled deeply before turning with an overly bright smile to the patrons, many of whom were unashamedly staring at him. Trace waited until the man stopped by his table to collect the empty dishes to quietly pose the question burning in his mind.

"The women, your employees–" He began.

"Gone." The innkeeper said gruffly.

"Gone? Did you not allow them the use of room four?" Trace drew his eyebrows together. Had his 'charity' as the woman put it, driven her away? He would hate to think so.

"I fired them first thing this morning for assaulting my wife," The innkeeper raised his voice. "The whole event has destabilized the dear woman's delicate nerves."

This new bit of gossip settled into the room like sand through a sifter, being examined from all angles under the light so that the innkeeper's wife might be reassessed. Trace didn't know whether they believed this part of the story.

On the one hand, he very much doubted the woman he saw yesterday would assault anyone maliciously.

On the other hand, after seeing the innkeeper's wife in all her acerbity, he couldn't really blame the redheaded beauty if she had. And the slight bruise blossoming on her jaw yesterday...

"Did your wife deserve it?" Trace blurted, earning a sharp glare from the innkeeper.

A long moment passed. Trace refused to be embarrassed about his question, and the innkeeper finally relented.

"Probably," He mumbled as he walked away.

"Where did they go?" Trace asked, a little more loudly.

"How would I know?" The innkeeper replied for the last time as he left the room.

Trace sighed. He was paid up, so he had no reason to stay any longer. He had wanted to leave the city as quickly as possible, but something sat ill about the poor girls who were fired.

Since they'd been sleeping in the barn, it was likely that without employment they were also now without a place to stay. It bothered him more than it should.

He could at least keep an eye out for them on his way out of the city, couldn't he?

Trace nodded to himself before going out to the barn to feed and saddle his horse, getting ready for the journey home. He bought and loaded food and water as it would be several days, all the while looking around every street corner he turned for a head of beautiful auburn hair.

He saw no sign of the woman, to his dismay. Perhaps he'd gone the wrong direction? The innkeeper had been no help in that regard, so Trace had to guess what was most likely. The girls would be in want of new employment, so he asked one or two other innkeepers about two young women.

He had no luck at all finding them, or any other redheaded woman for that matter. Surely they couldn't be so rare?

He was just about to give up on the whole ordeal when he thought he saw her pass around the side of a building. Nearby, a small gathering of street urchins were laughing together.

He frowned, disliking the idea of poor children being allowed to run loose instead of being taught manners and education, and being well fed.

"Excuse me, boy," He called one over, pulling out a morsel to feed the child. "Did you see a woman with red hair go this way?"

"A weakness for the ladies, Trace? And redheads? How unexpected!" A cajoling voice interrupted the boy's answer.

Trace grimaced at the tone. He dismounted to face the man, handing the food to the boy and shooing him away. He would rather not have their conversation overheard.

"Hello, Conlan." Trace frowned. "I imagine you're here to ruin my day?"

"Ruin your day? I'm here to vastly improve your life by telling you how you might be of further service to our great kingdom!" Conlan smiled. "I hope you weren't thinking you could just go home!"

"That was the deal," Trace's eyes narrowed. "I served in the war, and did my part. Now I get to go home."

"Oh, I'm afraid that simply isn't the case," Conlan procured a letter from his coat. "From our mutual friend."

"I don't want it." Trace glared.

"Ah, then you desire to have your little secret made public then, do you?" Conlan smirked.

Trace closed his eyes for a moment, considering. The war was over. Someone out there already knew. Even if word did get out, he didn't live in the city. Maybe the news would never reach the town near his farm or have any impact on his daily life.

Yes, he would certainly prefer to remain in obscurity, but it wasn't worth whatever was going to be asked of him next.

After what he was ordered to do in war, he could only imagine that what they wanted from him now would be worse. Whoever was blackmailing him saw his gift as a way to manipulate others, and he didn't want any part of that.

"You know what, Conlan? Knock yourself out. I don't care." Trace finally shrugged with a grin.

"You… don't care?" Conlan tilted his head. "It makes no difference to you if everyone knows your secret?"

Something in his voice gave Trace a moment's pause before he broke into a grin.

"You don't actually know what the secret is, do you, Conlan? You're just a messenger. Though you know you're blackmailing me for something, you have no idea what it is?"

The look on Conlan's face made Trace burst into laughter. The man was smarmy, and irritating, and an utter pain to be around. It was more satisfying than Trace expected to catch him out in such a way.

"So you would like me to inform our mutual friend that you refused to accept his letter, and would like to take your chances with the unwashed masses knowing all about you?" Conlan clarified.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to tell him," Trace nodded. "I've decided I don't care, so he has no leverage to make me do anything any longer."

"Interesting. I can't say I don't respect the effort, but ultimately it will be futile. He will, after all, find something else to use against you." Conlan's slow, sinister smile returned to his face.

"I'm sure that as soon as he does, you'll be right there with a letter for me." Trace raised one eyebrow.

"You can be sure of that." The man nodded jauntily before going on his way.

With a deep breath, Trace decided he needed to leave before his secret was spread around. It would take Conlan some time to get back to wherever his boss was, so even if the rumor began as soon as he got there, it would leave Trace a bit of time to get out.

He mounted his horse and pointed it towards the city gates.

The streets were bustling and slow-moving, aggravating Trace's anxiety to be free of the crushing crowds of the metropolis. He yearned to be away from it all, by himself in the open, sprawling countryside of home.

It was only a matter of time, but it irked him to continue breathing the stale air of the city when he could be somewhere else. By the time he reached the edges, the tension was wound so tightly in his soul that it seemed it would never relax.

Had he made a mistake provoking someone powerful? The threat of increased leverage bothered him more than he let on. In the moment, he'd been thinking only of himself. He had nothing else to hide, no other secret that could be held over his head.

But how far would they go? Would they harm his parents, his brother? Ruin his farm? There were many possibilities, but none so clean and untraceable as the one they had used so far.

Hopefully it would stay that way. Maybe, he could escape out to a quiet life away from all this. Just farm and live and dream. That's all he wanted.

As the city finally faded behind him on the horizon, he nudged his horse into a loping canter.

It was time to be home.