by Ulysses Troy
“Perhaps,” Conrad said smiling. “I hope you can find a way to send Lady Paquin away from your household, Baron Robert. And I hope it will be one without bloodshed.”
“Yes, my friend, me too. Stay well and if you happen to pass by, don’t forget to visit me. I would like to host you in my castle as an honored guest. Who knows, maybe you can help me deal with Paquin too?”
“Maybe, but only after hearing Paquin’s offer. I think she may have a better price.” He smiled at the Baron. “Goodbye.”
“Hey, wait.” Conrad was just about to leave, but Robert stopped him before he could. “I will depart with the first lights of dawn; will you stay for the night?”
“Yes, I guess.” Conrad answered. He was considering returning to Ferenaon with Gavise, to finish a job that he had left unfinished months ago. And perhaps, if he had luck on his side, he could find some peace there, at least for a few weeks. He had thought about going after the rider, but he just did not have enough coins to wander around the north, lands far from Baltaire.
“Then why don’t you come to this little meeting with me?” Baron Robert proposed. “The precious nobility will discuss this grim matter of the Brotherhood, and I don’t think we have a better man to handle this matter. You are a professional after all, aren’t you? They may want to hear your advice.”
“I wouldn’t consider myself one. But you can say I have some experience.” A meeting to discuss the Brotherhood and their last attack? This can be helpful, and I would doubt if anyone would particularly recognize me at such a meeting of nobles. “I can, so I will.”
***
The main hall of the tavern was warm as always. It was lit by tens of candles, all smelling like roses. Roses of LaPellás. Too bad I had no luck seeing one myself now.
The nobles that attended the feast at LaPellás were in the tavern, discussing the issue over and over again, only to create more discussions.
“This bloody Rider, and his herd of worthless minions, we must take care of them.” A knight wearing an expensive blue coat said. His brown hair was long and loose while his right arm was heavily bandaged, likely because of a wound made by bandits back at the arena. “I would go after him myself, but I’m not sure if I can use a sword properly after one of these cursed bandits pierced an arrow into it.” He raised his arm to show it to the crowd of nobles.
“We should have dealt with this Brotherhood long ago.” A relatively old noble spoke with his cracked voice. He was a white-haired man with tired blue eyes. “I tried to warn the count and the local Baronies, but no one listened to me back then. Madness. Do you see what has happened now? It was obvious that these outlaws would dare to do something extraordinary like . . . this eventually.”
“We need to put an end to this lawlessness, as soon as possible! After what they have done . . .” An angry noble interfered with his powerful and deep voice. It felt like a lion’s roar, yet he nowhere looked like a lion himself with his heavy body. “ . . . to my son. They have killed him!” He was a large, fat man with dark hair and a wide face. His brown eyes were full of hatred and anger, yet they were also sad and desperate.
“We don’t know how many they are, or even where they reside.” The old noble continued to speak. “And I bet smallfolk support them. Giving them bread to eat and shelter to rest. Losing their tracks and hiding their secrets. The Rider may be lurking under our very nose and we may not be aware of it at all.”
“Then they will pay for their betrayal with their blood!” The fat noble shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “They killed my son, Anselm; do you know what that means? I will take the head of every man and woman who has dared to help that bloody Rider and his cursed men!”
“I share your pain, Gilles, but there is no need for cruelty.” the Old nobleman explained. “What you propose would only strengthen the Rider’s and that of The Brotherhood.” He turned his face to the crowd and spoke louder. “Instead of what you offer, I propose to request help from his Countship Martell de LaVos. The Count would surely want to deal with that ‘Rider’ after what he had done to his loyal subjects.”
“But can we wait for the Count?” An old Baroness spoke with her soft and relaxing voice. It was obvious from her elegant style that she had a good taste for dressing. “Time is against us, Sers. The rider is getting closer and closer to crossing the Vanheimian border with every passing second, while we are talking in vain here.”
“Vanheim.” A Knight with a content attitude said. He had thoughtful green eyes that gave him a patient image. “I think they may have something to do with this Brotherhood’s actions.” He shared what he had on his mind with the rest of the crowd. “Back at the arena, I fought them, only to see they were no ordinary bandits. They were far too well-prepared and equipped to be common scum.”
“So, what are you saying, Ser Angus, Vanheim sponsored their vile efforts to bleed and weaken our lands?” The old noble asked curiously.
“It’s possible.”
“My friends, you are going overboard. The lion is not our enemy.” A nobleman, wielding a frivolous smile on his long, groomed face said. He had long, blond hair and blue eyes. “I hope you are aware the rivalry between the Lion and the Axe is nothing but long gone now. Especially after the marriage between the two royal houses. King Wilhelm and King Philippe are cousins by blood, and you must know our king does not approve of such misbeliefs.”
“The Lion is the enemy; it has always been and will always be.” Ser Evrard finally broke his silence. He was leaning on one of the Tavern’s pillars, arms crossed. “You would know it if you were at Armand too, Rennés. But I think you were busy at some brothel when Vanheim’s men bled our lands.”
“And what do you propose, Ser Evrard?” The old nobleman asked while Rennes looked at The Black Knight with hatred. “I’m curious to hear.”
“We must send a party after him as soon as possible. At least thirty men, well-armed and trained.”
“That much is clear.” The old Baroness spoke again. “This is the best option we have. And I recommend you lead that party, Ser. There is no one better here to go on this quest; that is obvious.”
“I am sorry, Baroness Malloine, but that is not possible.” Conrad heard Chanel’s voice for the first time, coming from behind him, from the other side of the tavern. “Ser Evrard has promised me to protect our house until we dress our wounds. The Brotherhood’s attack has damaged my house the most, and we are afraid the Rider may eventually return.”
“The Baroness was wrong about her opinion anyway, my fair Lady,” Rennés spoke while wielding his cynical smile. “I don’t agree with her that we need the Black Knight. The young Baron of Gannadár has already shown us he is a better sword than Ser Evrard, by beating him at the contest. Or should I say the “Knight of Honor”. He looked at Evrard’s eyes with a sincere expression as he finished his sentence, to see if his mockery had worked. The two did not like each other; that much of it was obvious.
“Baron Edmond really looks like a good fit, but his personal servant said he was injured at the fight against the bandits, even though I was not aware of his injury during the fight myself.” The old noble said, after thinking for a second. “I doubt he will recover anytime soon.”
Then it started again. For a significant amount of time, the nobility discussed ceaselessly, but could not find a common point to agree on. Word after word was said, and voices rose and fell. Then Robert de Lothiré, the Baron of Lothiré, stood up from where he was sitting and finally spoke to the crowd.
“Honorable Barons, Baronesses, Knights, and other nobles, we don’t need a Baron or knight to deal with this scourge named the Dark Rider, because we have something better at our disposal.” He said smiling, just after turning his face towards Conrad and pointing to him. Because of this move, every eye in the tavern turned to Conrad.
“Hereby, I want to present to you Conrad of Battum, the great hero hailing from the south, and the new favorite of smallfolk all around Baltaire! He is a restle
ss adventurer who wanders the land to serve justice and dignity. His noble deeds have been written into the songs of bards and have conquered the hearts of ladies! He is the one who saved the west village of Ulchais and the late Baron Joachim de Gouvrion. Kids throughout the land talk about his heroism and maidens with their fancy dresses want to meet with him. I doubt anyone here would be better than him to deal with the Rider, after all he has done.” What kind of shitty dig is this you are throwing at me, Lothiré?
For a few seconds, the crowd discussed this option, talking silently. “If this ‘Conrad of Battum’ of yours is as valiant and skilled as you claim him to be, then where was he when the bandits attacked us, Robert?” Rennés asked, challenging Robert.
“He was busy saving my life, Rennes. While you were trying to hide under the seats along with my seven-year-old nephew. But to be honest, she did a better job, as it took more to find her after the fight was over.” Some Knights in the hall, including Ser Evrard, broke into laughter while Rennes scowled with hate.
“I have heard about him.” The old Baroness said, referring to Conrad. “One of my sons, cannot remember which one was exactly, talked about how he wiped out bandits from an entire village. It must be Chérris if I remember correctly.”
“If it is true, it’s an indisputable achievement.” The old nobleman said, impressed. “Conrad of Battum, do you admit to being the achiever of such a feat?”
“Yes, Ser.” Conrad stood up from the chair he was sitting on and stepped out as the noble crowd’s eyes turned to him one more time. “Even though the bandits were not as many as smallfolk claim them to be, I managed to save Chérris from their swords.”
“It’s more than that.” A young noble stepped in. He was wearing the colors of Algeise. “I heard about him even more. About his deeds. One must be a fool to miss all the rumors.”
One of his friends nearby joined him in an instant. “That’s true. People call him a fierce warrior and brave heart.”
Then, from the crowd throughout the hall, Conrad heard more and more supportive statements. They were talking about the name ‘Conrad of Battum’, and the value it had. Half of the stories they were telling were wrong, and the other half were heavily exaggerated, though.
“I don’t think we need to hear more.” The old noble said after listening to the crowd awhile. “Conrad, would you be willing to go after the Rider if we asked you to do?”
Conrad prepared to reply to the nobleman’s question, yet before he could answer, the Old Baroness spoke. “We will reward you generously for putting this ‘Rider’ down. Also, to support your efforts, we can give to your command a good number of men-at-arms. No offense, but I am not sure if a knight would like to be willing to fight under a lowborn.”
“It won’t be necessary, Baroness,” Conrad said. “I always did better without large company.”
“So, you accept our offer?” The old nobleman asked.
“Yes, Ser,” Conrad said. “I will go after the Rider, but you do not have to promise me a fortune, nor fame or a title. I only want enough tourins to support the journey, no more.”
“Are you serious, Conrad? This is a very serious task to accomplish, and one should be rewarded for doing it.” The old nobleman said with a surprised expression on his face.
“Yes, Ser.” Conrad said with a confident tone. “I am sure.”
“What? Send him alone after the Rider? This is madness! We should send at least two dozen men!” A Knight from among the crowd said, while some voices through the hall rose to support him.
“If the Rider has already passed the border, we can’t send soldiers after him.” The Knight with green eyes said.
“Yes, passing the Vanheimian borders would be a cause of war, and King Philippe would never allow it.” the Old nobleman explained. “That’s why we need to send this adventurer.”
“But can he deal with the Rider alone?” The Baroness asked.
“No.” Conrad said. “But I won’t be alone.”
***
“Conrad, you are a hard man to understand, I’ll give you that much.’ Robert de Lothiré caught Conrad as he was walking towards the exit. “Back there, I really tried hard to make you rich, and maybe a fat-ass noble like me if you had the luck on your side!” He was in fine fettle like usual.
“I think it’s just you, Baron Robert, as I have met many who understand me before.” Conrad said, turning to the man. “Why did you do it?” What can you hope to gain from my post? What wicked benefit, Lothiré? Tell me.
Baron Robert smiled. “As I have said before, my friend, I am really into making allies these days, and just wanted to make sure you would consider me as one.”
“Yet I don’t quite understand what a powerful Baron can hope to get from an alliance with a lowborn wanderer like me.” Conrad spoke his mind with no restriction. “Enlighten me, please.”
“I have lived enough to know that a man like you cannot stay in the same status for long, not with that talent and will. You may lack self-ambition and heck, even the desire it requires, my friend. Yet you are a man of action, someone who would never ever give up going after what he seeks. That’s why I think you will achieve many great things and be a man to be spoken of in the close future.” He patted Conrad’s left shoulder with his hand. “And I hope you’ll remember your friend Robert when you become that man.”
“It’s a gamble, Baron.” Conrad said. “I may not be the man you believe me to be.”
“I would doubt that Conrad.” Robert said with a confident attitude. “If there is one thing that I am good at apart from dice and patience for my lady mother-in-law, it is making investments.” He smiled for the last time as he moved to leave. “Goodbye. And my offer about Lady Paquin still stands. Consider it after dealing with that bloody Rider.”
***
Conrad was packing up his things, carrying them from his tent to his horse. He was almost ready to set forth towards the north, to search the valley that Quenton de Terebaum had talked about before death met him. After what he has done, the Punisher will be very busy with him. Terebaum seemed to be a man that had some honor in his soul, yet it was stained all over with the blood of the innocent. And the holy texts said the Punisher always hated the ones to spill the blood of innocent the most.
The valley . . . he was not sure if he could find it. Yet he could not let the Dark Rider just vanish into the blue like that, after every crime he had committed and every soul he had taken. He was far too dangerous to be let go, and Conrad had no matters more important than the Rider to deal with. After all, he was going after the path he had chosen for himself, to claim his destiny. And it was a destiny that required a brave, restless heart to be claimed. The Dark Rider had to face justice; it was the only way to keep the promise he had made to himself long ago.
While preparing his horse, he was glad to be left alone for a while. Conrad had always liked to be alone. The time he spent on his own was the only time when he was not crushed by the pressure of responsibility, as only it was only in these times that he wasn’t responsible for other’s lives. Yet, his peace would be broken soon, as on his right, he saw someone approaching him. Someone who wore only and only black. Evrard de Wellon, the Black Knight.
“Conrad.” The man said. His voice sounded cold as usual. “Was it?” Yet somehow, Ser Evrard’s expression was one of regret. Something, maybe an undeniable thought or idea, was haunting him.
“Yes, Ser.” Conrad said , turning towards the man and bowing his head a bit to show his respect, not to the man, but to the title.
“Your sword . . .” Evrard pointed to the sword in Conrad’s hilt. “ . . . can I look at it closely?”
“Of course, Ser.” Conrad said, reaching out to his sword and unsheathing it. Then, he gave it to the Black Knight.
“High quality steel.” The Knight said, raising the sword to the air. “Probably forged in the South by the look of the material. Maine?”
“Maine. It’s the easiest place to find Greysteel.”
“Greysteel, I should have guessed. How much did it cost?”
“None.” Conrad said. “A blacksmith whose life I saved forged it for free.” I am still grateful to him for that.
Evrard examined the sword a little more before handing it back to Conrad . “Then he made a good decision, as you are taking good care of it.”
“Thanks, Ser.” Conrad said while sheathing his sword.
“The way you held the sword . . .” Evrard lifted one of his eyebrows. “ . . . is very similar to the Baron of Gannadár’s. The hero of the attack, and new Knight of Honor.” His voice sounded ironic. “You must know him pretty well, anyway. You were his guest of honor.”
“There is only one way to hold a sword.” Conrad said. He knows.
“What will you do?” The knight asked, after examining Conrad’s horse a bit. “Go after the Dark Rider?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“I would avoid the main roads. He may still have more men at his disposal, and it looks like an important portion of the smallfolk still support his cause. You would not want him to be informed about your arrival.” Some advice? I was not expecting that.
“I bet he knows someone will come after him.”
Evrard nodded at him. “We don’t know how he uses that sword of his, but if Terebaum was right and he is really my uncle, you’d better be prepared for a good fight. Jacquard was a masterful swordsman.”
“I’m familiar with good fights.” Conrad appreciated Ser Evrard, as he always would praise the talent and skill, no matter who its owner was. “Back at the contest, your mastery with the sword was impressive too.” He knows, so there is no reason to hide.