Shadows of Wychering

Chapter Three - Wychering

With the morning they were back on the horses, they took the east road out of Cordonva towards Wychering. Drawing its name from the trees that line its borders Wychering was quaint, quiet and uneventful. Until now.

Mid-morning gave way to noon as the monotonous ride took them towards Wychering.

Sergeant Henry Bollard rode up. A thick man with short dark hair and clean shaven. "Sir Morgan?"

"Yes Sergeant?"

"Twernt old enough for the first war, Sir Morgan. My father fought, fought brave we were told, but those Aastri bastards killed him."

"I understand, Henry. We all lost loved ones during that war."

"Just saying, Sir, if we find any Aastri raiders, there will be no mercy."

"Fair enough. Though do allow some questions before you slaughter, please?"

"Aye, that I can do."

Henry rode past them and whistled for his men to follow. Wychering lay but a few more paces up. The gate stood open as they approached, and a town guard stood watch.

"Long live the Wolf," the guard cried out as they rode in.

Henry and his men saluted as they came through. Morgan, Jame and Ameline gave courteous nods as they passed.

Wychering, a small village with thatch roofs, ramshackle buildings, and rutted dirt roads. A throw back to a different time. A simpler time. Ameline wondered at how such a place drew the recent events to it.

A lone tavern, The Cracked Barrel, appeared to be the hub. Folk stood outside talking, while others filed inside.

Morgan turned and looked at them. "I need to see the town master. Sergeant, you and your men split up and talk to people, find out who is missing and any other clues you can. Jame, Ameline, you two hit the pub, and find out what you can there. We will meet back at the pub in half an hour."

"Aye," said Henry. "Beck, you follow those two to the pub."

Ameline, Jame and Beck rode over to the pub.

The Cracked Barrel was a smoke and din filled, dark place. The sweet stink of sweat greeted them as they entered. Despite the happenings, people smiled and laughed inside the pub, all but one of them. He sat alone at a table in the far back, a mug in his hand and a frown on his face.

Ameline elbowed Jame.

"That man in the back, that is who we should talk to."

"Why do ya say that?" asked Jame.

"He is the only one in here not smiling or having a decent time. And look at him. His face is bruised, and that tear in his coat."

"Eyes of a hawk, Lady Ameline." Jame walked over to the bar. "Two ales, please, and wine for the Lady."

Two tankards sloshed with ale and a small goblet of wine were pushed towards him.

"Two silvers."

"I am staying at the bar," said Guard Beck. "Let me know what you find out."

Jame paid and grabbed the two tankards, "Aye, Beck, will do. Ames, follow me."

Picking up the goblet, she followed and watched as Jame sat down at the table with the frowning man. He passed the man one of the mugs of ale.

"My name is Jame, Jame Dunrick. Mind if we sit with ya a spell?"

Ameline sat down, facing the man.