Ten of Swords (Draft Only)

Chapter 18

The day was unsuccessful. All they had learned was that few people remembered them, and nobody at all had inquired after them. That left the only conclusion being that whoever had identified them hadn't been a local. This hadn't been what Elise was expecting, because it would take some coincidences or truly inexplicable behaviour to explain. Someone who was associated with the rebels who knew how to identify them would have had to be in town, in at least one of the same places as them, at the same time as them, and not be noticed by them. Or, they may have been following them for a while, but in that case, it would make more sense to ambush them while they were traveling and far from any potential aid. Nothing seemed to add up.

"What is it that I'm missing?" Elise hissed, rubbing her face with her palms, and grunting in frustration. She was so tired. Nothing would please her more than finding a warm corner to curl up in and go to sleep. Soon the sun would start to set. It neared the horizon, and the colour of the sky had begun to change. Legom was probably waiting for them with the horses.

The cobbled stone streets were starting to empty out of people. Working by candle or lantern wasn't the preference of those who spent their time in public places, but those who stood guard at night or made a living in the shadier parts of town would be waking up soon while their diurnal counterparts went to bed. Shadows move across open windows on the upper floors of businesses, which were likely to be where the business owners themselves lived.

Of the town's three inns, the most run-down was on the street they traveled now. The façade of the building was not decorated, consisting of raw, cracked wood and lacking any plastering or paint. It was only identifiable as an inn by a carved wooden sign in the form of a wooden panel that stood propped up against the wall. There was little writing, instead relying on the image of a bed, a serving plate, and a mug to describe what services the building provided. No one who had any choice would stay there. Yet, in the window was another sign. The painted image of a bed, crossed out. No Vacancy.

It was the kind of place that had secrets. Not the fun kind. People suffering and desperate and unable to help each other or themselves. Doing whatever was necessary to survive. There were a few places like that. Especially in big towns and cities where the class divide was wider. More people in one place always meant more people who could be exploited and more people willing to participate in the exploitation. Sense of community was weaker. People fell through the cracks. It's why she joined the rebellion in the first place. To try to fill those cracks or at least try and fish people out of the depths. Give them a second chance when no one else would.

Now those people were just being made into mindless, starving, and half-dead weapons. It was difficult to try and pin-point where everything went wrong. It could have been small things at first. Small things she ignored because she either didn't think they were significant or because she was blinded by her idealism. Her eyes wandered to the top floor of the sketchy in. Weak candlelight illuminated what she could see of the inside from where she stood. A figure moved in front of the window. He looked down at her, his face gaunt and marred with ancient battle scars. She stopped walking.

"Redrain," she hissed.

Of course. Anything that involved significant troop movement had to have Redrain involved. He was the most experienced among the rebels in terms of combat and war, if not the most experience in the entire kingdom. It had to be him. He must have ordered the charge on the druid's grove. He could have even been the one who oversaw the burning of the now destroyed village. If he was in that inn, in that town which was centrally situated between those two locations, it only made sense. The bastard smiled at her. Her whole body tensed, her fingers curled into fists, and she stared at the man's strange smile. It wasn't a mocking or joyful grin. It was awkward, uncertain. Still, it filled her with the urge to dig her nails into his neck. She sprinted for the door.