Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 2: At Your Mercy

Libro hated to admit it, but he was starting to grow fond of having weapons shoved in his face. Ever since he'd joined the Vangen Royal Guard it had been one razor sharp brandishing after another. A butcher's knife in Byzantia. A sword as black as night in Middengard. And now a jagged spear, in Danic no less.

"Halt!" said the man with the spear. He thrusted it high, nearly prodding Libro's nose off had his horse not nervously stepped back. "Halt, I say!"

"Easy now, my good man. Easy." Libro pulled on the reins with his one good hand, thighs clenched tight around the horse's flank to stay upright. Several more men fizzled out from the darkness.

"What are you doing here?" The one with the spear demanded, giving Libro another threatening jab.

"You can't tell by my attire?" Libro asked as he slowly eyed the crowd. There were four men in total. Each dressed in shabby armor and equally shabby weapons. Their chainmail was little more than leather patchwork over rusted loops, their jerkins painted in a sloppy mix of blacks and purples. None of them appeared well fed, faces pitted in shadow from frequently missed meals. He almost felt sorry for them, the poor bastards.

"Why, I'm a wayward merchant from a far away land hoping to sell my wares." With a graceful part, Libro slid open his traveling cloak, revealing a tough, Star Steel breastplate, freshly knit chainmail gleaming beneath. A well oiled sheath sat strapped to his side, sword hilt poking out.

The four men took a wayward step back. "Don't play coy with us, lad!" One of the footmen snarled. "We're in no mood for games! Answer the damn question already!"

Libro felt his brows rise. As wary as they were hungry, it seemed. Like starved, beaten dogs. "Right. I'll waste no more words then." He reached into his cloak, causing one footman to panic as he drew his sword. "Easy! Easy now!" He pulled his hand out, a letter clutched between thumb and forefinger.

"What's that?" The one with the spear asked. One of his compatriots warily stepped forward to grab it.

"A search warrant," Libro said truthfully as the man reached out. "From the Empress herself."

The footman's hand froze, fingertips brushing the soft vellum, blood red seal barely shimmering under the dark skies of Danic. "The Empress, you said?" The man's voice came out in a hushed whisper, like a stone being gently ground into dust.

"That's right." Libro smiled and pressed the letter into his hand. "Would you like to read it?"

The footman stumbled back, dropping his sword as he clutched the letter with both hands. He swallowed nervously as his gaze fell upon the emblazoned mark of the Empress. The four armed cross.

With a few nervous nicks, the footman peeled back the seal and began to read. He squinted at the letters, eyes growing wider and wider with every sentence. His shoulders slumped as he finally reached the end.

"This is a fool's errand, my friend," the footman said as he tore his eyes from the letter. With gentle hands he folded up the paper, handing it back to Libro. "Turn back now. The man you seek has been dead for a long time. Our High King made sure of it."

"Alas, I must persist in my search." Libro gave a helpless shrug, the stump of his right arm appearing beneath the cloak. "When the Empress gave me her orders, I swore to follow them through. I'm afraid you'll have to let me pass."

"The borders are closed regardless!" One of the other footmen yelled back, giving his ax a hardy shake. "King's orders!"

"Is that what I'll tell the Empress when I ride back?" Libro leaned back in his saddle, eyeing the man who'd said it. "Half a year of hard traveling and that's the answer I'll give her?" He tilted his head to one side. "King's orders? How do you think that will fair for the rest of us?"