An Axe in the Flames

Supplies and Appearances

Thanenor winters were typically more mild than most of the provinces in the Emerald Kingdom. Their soft rolling hills, and mostly pasture type lands were always known for the pleasant weather. Never too much rain, wind or snow. The main supply line of imported foods traveled through the country roads of Thanenor, for King Herrod. Amdesse was north and was known for their seasonal crops and preserved meats, though the druids of those lands typically drove a hard bargain. The Kingdom supplies would run from the coast of Amdesse, through the heart of the province and then wind through the country backroads of Thanenor before entering the Emerald province where the castle stood central to all.

For two months, a supply line had not made it through Thanenor and the rebellion was thought to be the reason. King Herrod had sent a Brother of the Shadows to take care of that little problem, and all was thought to be well. To help this supply run make it through, he had sent Servant Guardian Dray to escort. The initial pick up had been easy, and went as usual. Count the vegetables, count the bread loafs, label and count the wine casks. Pretty basic stuff, but Dray felt confident in number counting ability. He one of the few that could count higher than the fingers on his hands and toes on his hairy feet. Speaking of feet, he really needed to trim his toe nails, they were beginning to resemble tiny daggers. He'd have to get on that situation when he returned back to the castle.

He had taken his seat next to the main cart driver, a withered old man with a piggish nose and nostril hair so thick that Dray thought he had a second mustache. His wispy gray hair was long and combed over from the side of his bald head to the other. In the winds it blew almost straight up. Dray wasn't much better looking he reckoned but when his hair had thinned, he shaved it off to bypass the embarrassing moments Soren was experiencing. Great Cor above, why would a man subject himself to such a thing? Dray pointed a finger at it and Soren licked his hand and tried to smooth it back down. It hadn't done a thing.

"That's better." Dray said, knowing he was absolutely lying.

Soren grunted, one of the few times he actually responded to something Dray had said. He looked back over his shoulder to check on the cargo. Four high walled wooden carts filled to the brim and covered with cured hide to keep the goods from the elements. They were all attached to the lead cart which he and Soren manned. Following behind were four footmen of the Emerald Army, they were dressed in the green and black leather ceremonial armor and carried short swords with unadorned small buckler shields. Dray thought on this for a moment. If there had been so many problems with supplies coming home, why not send more guards? Why not arm them better or even give them better armor? Had this been set up by King Herrod or someone else? Dray could help with his guardian weaving magics but still, it seemed odd. He turned back to Soren, and watched him whips the reins that were connected to the four large oxen that powered this supply cargo.

"Figured there would've been more footmen to protect the goods." Dray remarked as he pointed a thumb behind him.

Soren looked at him and made no remark, just stared at him blankly. Dray stated back for an agonizingly long moment. This was weird.

"Do you speak, man? Like are you capable?" Dray questioned as he adjusted himself in the seat, pulling his gray robes tighter around his thick neck line.

Soren snorted and cracked the reins again as the oxen slowly picked up their pace.

"Will you try to talk to me the entire drive?" Soren finally responded in a thick, throaty, country rasp.

Dray was slightly taken aback by the response but he smiled nonetheless. "I'm not sure what answer you're getting at. Is it rude to talk on a long ride?"

Soren snorted again and hocked a green globule to the side of the cart, "You ever had to go elbow deep in an oxen asshole to pull its own shit out?"

Dray stuttered, opening and closing his mouth with no words coming except for a squeak. Soren slapped his knee and laughed. Dray understood now, this was just a backwoods country man that was trying to see what kind of embarrassment he could cause a man of the cloth. Little did this skinny little booger know, Dray came from the inner city of the Emerald Castle where every day was a rough life. Rough talk, rough ways with your fist, stealing to eat for the night and so on. He had lived int he kind of poverty that country folk just didn't understand. Piss and shit buckets from everywhere inside the city would be emptied into the latrines that just happened to run through the heart of where he grew up before it flooded out into the mote around the massive castle. Diseases spread like wild fire and flies caked every surface. Living inside of a walled city only afforded a poor person the protection of those walls. You still paid tax, you still worked yourself to the bone and you still lived in absolute filth. That was the hierarchy, that was the way. Everyone had a place within those walls and if you chose to leave that station, you most likely did it through the sword or the cloth. He had chosen the cloth because his Guardian magics were strong.