Chapter One

The end of the rifle shook as Sethes took aim. Just down the ridge a group of gnoll mercenaries were patrolling the camp’s perimeter. Six of the beasts, each wrapped in raw leather hides, but carrying well made weapons gifted from the rebels as payment for their services. The hiring of the gnolls by the rebel forces had sparked a series of bloody skirmishes along the borders of the kingdom’s remaining southern territories.

Sethes and his men were to hit the patrol and fall back drawing the perimeter guards while the cavalry struck the other side. The strike would break the supply chain feeding the mercenaries and relying on typical gobkin disloyalty the strike commander felt the gnolls would scatter back to wilds.

As the six came in range Sethes signaled Terin and Mathias to fire on the three count.

Three, his vision blurred.

Two, the rifle started to fall.

One-The guns boomed, shattering the morning’s quiet. Two of the gnolls fall dead, their heads destroyed by the shots, a third falls screaming as his knees explodes in blood. Sethes notes it’s his target that still lives.

The remaining three gnolls immediately charge the ridge, racing to keep the ambushers from reloading in time for a second volley. Sethes and his companions affix their bayonets quickly and meet the charge head on.

Gnolls are large, quick, and vicious fighters. The only real advantage Sethes has a gnome is this fight is the higher ground. He tries to spear the closest gnoll in the neck, but the beast dodges and swings its heavy sword down toward his head.

His arms and legs are stuck to the ground, heavy as lead. The sword falls in slow motion, the gnoll laughs in glee.

Sethes wakes screaming and nearly falls from the small bed. It takes him a moment to remember how he survived that fight, that his friend’s didn’t, and now he had to carry their runes home. Knowing he would get back to sleep he slide out of bed and walked to the porthole. Sethes tasted copper and examining his mouth realized he’d bit deep into tongue in his sleep. The sun was just rising, creeping over the calm green ocean.

Sethes opened his bag and removed his pack of tobacco, his ivory pipe inlaid with a deep reddish gold, had been passed down father to son since before the Mother of Light had led the first gnomes out from the caverns of their dwarven cousins. The ritual of cleaning and packing his pipe was mechanical and calming. The sickly sweet smell of southern tobacco filled his cabin and set him at ease. Striking a match he say back on his bunk and stared out at the waves. Watching as the ship carried him home to the leading and away from the dead.

His squire, a human boy Arcurio Tellern, arrived an hour later carrying a tray of food from the kitchen. Sethes had, to the captain’s chagrin, refused to eat in the galley, so Arc brought the meals to the cabin he’d never leave.

“Not hungry today, Arc.” Sethes said ignoring the look of concern.

“My lord, you’ve hardly eaten this trip.” arc spotted the untouched plate of food from the previous knight, “ A knight must maintain his strength at all times.” Sethes glared at Arc.

“Don’t quote the tenants to me boy. My strength is fine.”He turned back to the porthole, “Still it wasn’t enough.” Arc shook his head, laid the new tray on the table, and collected the old tray. He left silently leaving Sethes to his tobacco and thoughts.

The ship arrived in Ayer’s Port that afternoon, just after the noon bell. Arc returned to the cabin to pack the gear, but Sethes was dressed with everything packed.

“Hurry up, grab the bags and lets get our feet on land.” Without even a polite thanks to the captain, Sethes and Arc jumped ship and joined the crowds on the piers. Ships from the whole of the kingdom, and further were loading and unloading. People moved as uncoordinated mass, pushing and shoving.

Sethes shoved, shouldered, and stamped toes to make his way through the dockworkers, mostly orcs who towered over the small gnome. Many snarled in anger, but on seeing his rifle and coat of arms they moved aside respectfully. It didn’t take long for a path to clear straight to the customs officer desk.

The officer on duty, a human woman decorated in more jewelry than most dwarves ever mined, gave a look of utter contempt. Behind her lounging in the shade and tossing dice were two lightly armored knights each with short swords, their bucklers on the ground holding their winnings.

“Name and business.” She sneered. Sethes stood quietly, it took Arc a moment to realized he should speak.

“This is Sir Sethes Millane of the Dawn’s Thunder. I am Arc-Arcurio Tellem. We are stopping on our way north, to the capitol.” He paused as the woman shifted her venomous gaze to Arc, “We’ve returned from battle in Ashtur.” She scribbled on a pair of papers, filling out their names.

“The entry tariff is a hundred gold, and you’ll have to surrender your weapon. It will be kept at the watch tower,” she gestured to a large stone building easily twice the height of anything else around it, about a block away, “Only watchmen and knights of the Golden Rooster of Tyrmain are permitted to carry weapons in the city proper.” Arc reached for the pouch sewn inside on of the bags, but Sethes grabbed his hand.

“No.” The customs officer looked up, her face pulled a revolted grimace.

“Excuse me?” At her ton the two knights behind her stood, their hands on their hilts.

“I am a royal knight carrying out the sacred duty of delivering Runes of the Lost to the families of my fallen brothers. By law and tradition we do no surrender our weapons or pay ’entry tariffs’.” Sethes kept his eyes locked on the customs officer, the people around them began to back away, the two knights drew closer split to surround him. Sethes didn’t move, next to him Arc untied the strap hold his mace the let the weapon fall into his hnd. The officer wavered:

“Entry granted.” Arc reached for the papers, “But we’ll be watching you, Sir Millane. Ayer’s Port won’t tolerate hedge knights causing trouble.” Arc slid the papers into his pouch, retied the mace and turned away. Behind him Sethes glared at the customs officer a last time before turning after Arc and leading him away. The two felt the eyes of the officer and knights follow them off the pier and into the city proper. When they were far from earshot Sethes said:

“I want you to find out what you can on the Golden Roosters.” Sethes gave a glance over his shoulder, “I’ll find another ship headed north. Hopefully someone’s leaving tomorrow.”

“Why ask about the local knights then?” Arc questioned still perplexed over Sethes’s stubbornness.

“I don’t trust them and I don’t want any surprises.”