Day at Market

Ursla loved her pony. She loved her brother too, but it was best not to show him too much of that, however this gift was exquisite. She knew the pony was not meant for her solely, but it would help her through the chores every day. Smiling to herself she walked ahead of the fine beast leading it to market. She had eagerly waited for the morning as it was market day today. Arik had given her the pony yesterday and Ursla wanted to take him to market to show off her gift.

The air was crisp and full of winter chill, but this had not hindered her decision to walk to market so early. About halfway to the palisade, a group of armed riders passed her, they seemed to be in a hurry south. But one young man did take the time to smile at her. Which she gladly reciprocated, being as the man was dark tall and handsome like a lot of the southerners compared to the Highlanders, who were certainly a lot rougher around the edges.

Now further into town Ursla veered up the east path towards farmer Ebass' holding. She knew of winter berries along the path and wished to pick some to conserve and to spoil the mare, her new friend. Realising she could not keep calling the pony "pony", she decided to name her.

"I think you shall be named Gurdy" she said to the beast, who whinnied in response

"I thought you'd like it" chuckled Ursla.

The steppe pony had certainly taken to her, Ursla thought it to do with their similar dispositions. Then she chuckled, "I can be a bit bossy too can't I!" the pony snorted this time. Ursla's mood was certainly much warmer than the weather.

Rauln had not enjoyed this morning's labour. Very few of the local woodsmen had joined the mercenary band and they now found themselves partaking in the felling and preparing of timber. Exhausted already, Rauln was relieved when Falco the mercenary leader sent him and three others back to Risvale market for aid and supplies. Hopefully, they would entice some more help, because as it currently stood the completion of watchtowers was going to take a month, hence the supplies. But the three men who accompanied him, Francis, Corvell and Ike were not Rauln's favourite people in this world.

All three of them came from poor blood and were previously known for questionable behaviour, unfitting of the Auxilia but certainly not of mercenaries. Rauln cursed his luck, not only was he to be responsible for the three, but the hiring and supplies too.

"Well at least I'm not toiling with lumber and axe instead" he thought to himself. Risvale was not too far from the planned positions of the watchtowers and their horses were swift. It wasn't long before the smoke plumes from conical rooftops came into view.

"Let us slow down lads, the longer we take the less chopping we have to do today!" said Rauln to the others, who all nodded in response.

"Might find m'self a little local ride while 'ere then" came a filthy suggestion from Corvell, the other two just chuckled in agreement with Rauln shaking his head at the thought. How could a proud member of the Galand Auxilia associate with these brigands, all Rauln could do is sigh.

Had he been too hasty to join a mercenary band? Falco's Band of Brethren had been the first he had encountered after his Auxilia commission was rescinded early. Rauln had only been in service a year and his father would be disappointed at the lack of gold or glory. Traditionally Galand's first born men of noble class went through the Auxilia officer training to cement loyalty to the Empire.

Rauln would be a laughingstock back home with no glory or wealth. Consequently, the urge to avoid shame and destitution had seen him sign up to continue the fight. Not that he had the chance to see any fighting since joining the Band of Brethren. All they had managed was to clear a couple of bandit camps on their six-month journey north. Being an officer was out of the question now, in the "Band of Brethren" everyone is equal except Falco. So, the coinage was slim.

Rauln had begun to find the whole situation suspicious. Falco had received a letter and told the lads that they were heading North for work, it would take six months. Half the brothers then stayed behind leaving the forty here now. Then as money became sparse, they had sought bounty. Hungry and tired they had trekked their way to the sparse and cold North, full of hills too cragged to walk and rivers too cold to cross. To help guard a vapid little man in a tiny little town, too far away from anything to be of consequence. This had left Rauln in a bad mood ergo the outburst the evening prior and Falco sending him here.

"If it hadn't been for the emperors murder", of which Rauln had learned through rumour. He remembered asking a squat little man in a tavern about it.

"Was it an assassination do you know?" The beard around the mans chin twitched as he thought his reply before he grunted and with a deep baritone voice.

"Nae sonny, they are sayin' it was a friend and peer. Jealous and resentful, plunged a ceremonial blade into his back. Murderous bunch you southerners" the memory still lingered.

The words, for unknown reason had stuck with him. Still, it explained the rescindment of his commission. Any empirical conquest would be too complicated for now. First, a funeral needed planning, and the states of the empire would need visiting by the delegates from Isa shortly after.

"Should I have gone home?" Rauln pinched himself.

They were passing the round houses now. "Simple but elegant" Rauln thought to himself. "Good for this freezing weather. The thick cobb walls look very insulate." Then as they got closer to the palisade, they started to pass people headed home from market laden with wares. Rauln just needed to take these three inside the wooden walls, where the watch would keep an eye on them, the noble blood in him felt uncomfortable around the locals with these three questionable comrades.

The watchmen would help relieve the stress from Rauln personally. Then he would need to seek out Captain Brelius.

"I suppose I should apologise to the man for my rudeness whilst I have the chance." Pondering aloud he turned but none of the men accompanying him were paying any regard, so none offered any slander to that comment. Thankfully.

Once the four men had hitched their horses, Rauln instructed Corvell to take Ike and Francis to talk with the locals at the tavern about lumber work. The young Galish noble hoped it would give him respite and space to talk to the Watch Captain.

"And don't be intimidating!" he called back over his shoulder. To which Corvell and his gang only grunted and cursed in response.

When Rauln finally took stock of the area he noticed the stone buildings inside the palisade. "Stone on this side of the wall." He sighed. After making his way through the courtyard the young noble was able to find the barracks easily. But finding the captain would be harder. Or so he thought. Because before Rauln could even open the door he heard the familiar tones of Captain Brelius from behind it.

Without ado Rauln opened the barrack door, as he entered the gathering hall, where he saw Brelius in his armour, plate steel with an Iron fist emblem on the chest and belt. Rather fitting for the man. If it was to be believed, he was the man of legend, tales were told about the captain of the Iron Fists. If the legends were true, strangers in taverns tend to embezzle stories likre that.

"Oh, ho if it isn't the mercenary laddie. Rauln was it? What brings you here? Shouldn't you be out building watchtowers?" bellowed the imposing captain.

As Rauln approached he noticed the mirror on the wall and couldn't help feeling deflated. There stood a greenhorn in boiled leather chest guard, leggings with chausses and boiled leather plates. His mottled black hair and dirty skin made him look like a beggar next to the shining tower of a man that was the captain.

Rauln cleared his throat and began.

"Well sir firstly Id like to apologise for me arrogance last eve sir. Then I need to make a brief report sir. As I have been sent back here to fetch some supplies and a few extra hands. Falco wants to get the job done hastily sir." Brelius blinked in silence momentarily.

"Very good laddie, tell Falco he'll have to hire his own hands. But I can give you a signed slip to get supplies for the job free of charge. As for the apology, just remember where you stand. Anything else? As I am quite the busy man." Came an imposing response from the captain.

"No Captain, that's all." Replied Rauln. "Good, I'll have the slip signed and sent to you, so stay around the market until then."

With that confirmation, Rauln nodded in gratitude, spun on his heel, and left the presence of the captain. Who watched the young Galish noble leave the barrack then chuckled to himself. "Not all of 'em are brigands I see."

Corvell, Ike, and Francis had all entered the Rams Hide. They had ordered a flagon of mead and sat at a round table in the corner of the tavern. The three of them were large men and their morale was not high. It was as if a shadow had settled into the corner around them. Ike spat through his matted beard to the floor and turned to the other two men.

"That little Galish swine thinks his blood makes him better. The kid makes me sick." Then filling his tankard, he hefted it and took a large mouthful of the sweet amber nectar. "At least this mead stuff is good!" he blurted spraying droplets of saliva and mead over the table.

"Calm it, Ike." said Francis gruffly, whilst also pouring mead into his own tankard.

Scratching his chin Francis looked at Ike. "It is the grunt work I cannot stand. I didn' come up North to build wooden towers. I came here to fight Northmen. Well, I thought I was. I can easily put up with one arrogant child. But that Galish noble best get some woodsmen to come back with us." Ike stared straight back at Francis.

"I 'spose you're right." Ike then looked down into his mead. "The North is miserable!"

Corvell, who now had one of his massive hands upon the flagon, just smiled at both of his comrades through crooked blackened teeth.

"I dunno 'bout you. But II think I'll have me some fun, just to make the North a bit more bearable. A pox on that twerp and those towers a pox on it. I think I'll find myself a little Northern wench to use up." The three men began to chuckle, maniacally.

Celenan had noticed the ill intent, like a miasma hanging over the three men in the corner. He desperately tried not to draw attention to himself. He had known men like these before and nothing good came from them loitering in towns, ever.

Derenis who had been sat with Celenan, drinking firewater, rolled his eyes in his head. "Those three need watching, carefully." the sergeant mused under his breath

Rauln decided not to enter the Rams Hide. Too early for a noble to be entering such a premises. He decided to walk the market and wait for the three ruffians to finish their drinking. Because what else would they be doing. He seriously doubted those three would convince anyone to help fell trees and prepare timber.

Rauln paused a moment, he shuddered at the thought of what else men like Corvell, Ike and Francis could enjoy. So the galish noble just browsed the market, the usual wares were on offer, work from craftsmen, the carpenter had a stool for tools and carvings and the blacksmith had useful items like nails and horseshoes for sale which you would then take to the farrier with your horse. Vegetables and meat were on sale on many of the stalls. But the veg was all odd roots and the meat either game or jerky. Winter was not the best season for food.

All together Rauln was fairly impressed with the market. He had seen clothing on sale also. "Imperial life has really helped the barbarians of the north civilise." He found himself thinking.

Ursla had had a wonderful time picking berries. Now she had two full bushels on the back of Gurdy. As she entered the market, she noticed it was busy, and the young Icanii woman headed first to her fathers stall.

"Morning father!" beamed Ursla as she approached the imposing figure of the smith.

"Ursla! You're bright and early today, and you've been gathering winter fruits!" bellowed Rigurd.

"Do you plan on making wine?" came his inquisitive question next.

"No farther I'll be making conserve! I prefer mead!" snapped the young lass.

"Girls don't drink mead Ursla they drink wines, more delicate you see" Rigurd chuckled aloud.

"Oh shush father, you're too old for silly games! Have you made many sales this morning or are you standing out here for no reason?" Rigurd frowned at his daughter's response.

"You whipper snappers sure grow up fast 'ey. I'm selling a few things this morning. But people need metals less often than they need food and clothing. Go easy on your old man I shan't be around forever." Ursla just looked up at Rigurd, the twinkle in her eye let the towering Icanii know her playfulness.

"Don't be so morbid father, you'll spoil my mood!" came a tart reply from his daughter as she turned and marched away with her pony.

"She does like to tease me" thought Rigurd as he watched Ursla waving and chatting to the stall holders.

The town was always so full of life come market day, shame it was once a quarter only. Rigurd always welcomed a bit more money for the pot. But it also gave the smith a good scope of who was in town. Except the three ruffians that entered the Rams Hide earlier he hadn't seen any trouble today. Fortunately for the watchmen.

Just as the thought had crossed his mind Rigurd spotted Sergeant Derenis leaving the Rams Hide. The smith stood up straight and waving he called to Derenis and beckoned him over.

Derenis had a headache, firewater so early was a terrible idea. Especially since those mercenaries had spoiled the mood. Just as his eyes adjusted to the light after exiting the tavern he heard his name in a thunderous echo. Scanning the crowd he spotted Rigurd waving.

"Curses, first I had to listen to those brigands gripe and throw back mead, now the giant smith is shouting at me, what could he want from me?" raising a hand to his head to shield his eyes from reflecting snow, he trudged his way over toward the smithy.

"So Den, or should I call you Sergeant? I suppose your new promotion calls for some celebration!" said Rigurd as Derenis drew closer.

"News travels fast! I wouldnt have thought it good news myself, smithy!" the sergeant responed with dry wit. "Anyway what can I do for you Rigurd?" asked the southerner.

"You can keep an eye on the three that went into the Tavern Den!" replied the smith with cold expression breaking the smile that a second ago was on his face.

"You do your job Rigurd and Ill do mine, quite simple really. I had already noticed the bad smell inside the Rams Hide thank you." Derenis quickly retorted.

Leaning in toward the watchman now, Rigurd's expression turned to one of ill humour. "I am fully aware you are capable of your job, Derenis. However, don't think we Northmen hadn't noticed the questionable sorts old Lentrin's been invitin' into town. You think we're all oblivious, but we isn't southerner." the smiths tone was low and serious. This caught Derenis off guard

Taken back by sudden change in tone from the smith Derenis found himself off-guard. 'Maybe that's why Rigurd was always so friendly' he wondered. "Don't you worry Rigurd, I'm sure old Lentrin knows what he's doing and its likely not for you or I to comprehend." he stuttered in response.

"Now enough talk of the unsavoury, how's the shop doing today? Your wares are usually popular on market day. People come from afar don't they?" came a quick change in topic.

Rigurd looked at the Sergeant bemused. The southerner had always been a jovial sort, Derenis of Isa was usually found lazing about avoiding trouble. He now seemed ever so slightly stressed. The smith put it down to the new position the imperial held.

"Now, now Den. You were always the sort to enjoy a joke! Take some of that gravel off your back and relax a little. Market has been a little slower than it usually is. I'm not sure if it's because of the snows. But less people have come for the market itself. Just a few passing prospectors and the town crowd. It seems that less people are travelling the roads this far north."

"That's a shame" said the sergeant his shoulders relaxing a little. "There have been less patrols on the roads recently, that would make travellers uncertain. But that's because fewer guard came up from Isa and Lyvidsten this rotation. Even Lentrin was left short-handed, reasoning to hire some of these unsavoury characters to fill the gaps."

"Aye, It's not gone unnoticed sergeant. I hope Lentrin has thought this through. It's a small town with barely eight-hundred. These fifty fighting men are feeling a little threatening. Anyhoo I must be getting on now Den, as I sure you also have things to be doing. Farewell sergeant!" The smith ended the conversation there. Frustrated and in ill humour now, he made his way back to his workshop. "Maybe Ursla was right, maybe I am old?" he found himself pondering aloud.

The day was getting on, Ursla had spent a majority of her time moving around the market stalls, trading winter berries for herbs or fresh flax linen. Relatively happy with her haul she decided that now market was closing it was time to head home. So turning to Gurdy she made sure her goods were packed away. Then she took the pony by the reign and started to lead it toward the pallisade gates. Close to the Rams Hide she saw Agne daughter of Maggs the weaver. A girl of similar age to herself, and popular with the boys. Agne who had also spotted Ursla, smiled and waved back. "Afternoon Agne! Called Ursla.

"Ursla! its good to see you friend. Hope you're keeping well." said the petite girl as Ursla approached. Agne was a pretty thing. Blonde hair and brown eyes and flush healthy skin.

"I hear your brother Arik is back in Risvale?" came a rather direct non question.

"That he is Agne, probably a bit old and worn for you though hey?" came Urslas witty retort. Ursla had a sharp tongue and all of Risvale knew it. "Soldiers dont make great lovers! And the last time Arik saw you you were as small as I was!"

"It was just a friendly question!" blushed and embarressed the weavers daughter responded. "I thought I saw him yesterday riding north with a child on his horse."

"That you did, the child is little Aern. Such a sweet thing. Arik found him on the road home!" replied Ursla with a jovial tone. "That being said Agne, what you doing here, outside the tavern? I didnt see your stall today!"

"Mothers sick Ursla! she hasnt got out of bed in five days. Im having to make a little money from the vagrant prospectors and southereners passing through, just to give ma' medicines" Agne looked pale now and Ursla sensed the despair in her.

"Thats awful Agne, you should have said something sooner! Come with me, we have what you need at home. No need to put yourself on market! Come come!" grabbing onto the weavers daughters wrist and dragging her into an embrace.

Agne just started sobbing on Urslas shoulder. "If I could weave better I wouldnt have to do this. If I had spent less time fawning over boys and more time with mother this wouldnt have happened!" cried the girl.

"Now now Agne, theres no need to be inconsolable. We can have everything fixed in no time. You know my mother has a way with ailments. We shall go to my house and fetch her. I wont have you here trying to earn money in this way!" Ursla almost demanded.

So taking Urslas hand Agne allowed herself to be led away by her friend.

As the two girls were leaving, the door to the tavern opened and out stepped Corvell. The man had a dirty grin on his face and watched intently as the two girls walked out of the pallisade gates. Quickly checking around to make sure he was not being watched. The giant of a man, with his dirty beard and dark eyes slowly made his way, the same direction the two young northern girls . With the sun low in the sky the southern mercenary chuckled to himself, full of drunken glee.