Distant voices echoed through the air, as Marcus and Georgias returned from their hunt. They had made the best of the cold, August morning, chasing game through the forest, to the edge of The Shambles and back again to the Ethereal Gates. Behind Georgias’s steed, a deer drug lifelessly, and over Marcus’s saddle hung the bloodied head of a Leviathan—a large, bearlike creature with a spiked tail and two razor-edged antlers—an arrow still stuck in its eye. It was a prized kill. Unfolding a piece of parchment Marcus read quietly,
“One Leviathan slain:
The Great King’s reward:
Fifty silver coins for
Purging the land of dangerous monsters.”
It’s a start, Marcus thought, but it’s not enough. He folded the parchment, tucking it under his hooded cape.
Marcus was in debt. Six hundred silver coins to the royal reserve of the Kingsland. This was quickly becoming a desperate situation. He had nothing to begin with. No house, no farmland, no possessions to sell, nothing to pay back his debt. All Marcus had was the bow on his back and a branding of flesh on his chest—both marking him a Ranger. Though the Order of the Golden Fleece—champions of the Great King—traded blood for onus. Honor wouldn’t do. Marcus had sown desperation in search of hope, now all he reaped was more desperation.
When Marcus had pleaded for the coin, the Great King asked him, “what does a Ranger need with six hundred of my silver coins?”
Marcus starred at the fat Great King slumped in his throne, his gaze somewhat broken by the large crowd in the Guild Chamber courtroom, and said, “a Rangers needs nothing. But a father needs his daughter, and a husband needs his wife. The cannibals came into our home, and stole them from me yesterday night. I intend to bring a fellowship together to get them back.”
The Great King’s face lite up like a dry summer field in the blazing sun. “The cannibals, you say?” he chuckled, his throne squeaking along with him, “The cannibals live well beyond the Ethereal Gates, past my dominion, in The Shambles. Not many who travel there come back.”
The Great King’s advisors shook their heads in agreement. The guild of six sat to the right of the massive throne, facing Marcus, examining him with tried faces vacant of sympathy. This wasn’t the first helpless plea they had that heard today. It wouldn’t be the last.
The Great King motioned for one to speak, and Lord Loic Raul, the Lord of Coin hastily stood up, fumbling with a handful of documents. Raul’s words held weight on the scale of the Great King’s guild. He was a prominent Lord, thought many saw him as devious, and prone to shuffle friends for enemies. Raul began reading through his ledger book, twiddling his long goatee, preparing to give his estimation.
Marcus could see from the Great King’s uninterested gaze that Raul’s words would now give the cannibals’ feast or chase. But Raul saw beyond Marcus’s desperation, and with a spiteful grin he said, “my Lord, there is no profit in hunting cannibals and nightmares. I’m afraid the reserves have nothing to spare for this adventurer.”
“So be it,” the Great King said.
That was all it took. Raul was his accuser, his arbitrator, and his executioner. Marcus fell to his knees in pain, and the guards moved towards him to remove him from the courts.
“Wait!” A women’s voice called. The Great King and five members of the guild looked to Ava Fletewoode at the end of the table.
YOU ARE READING
The Things the Creator Has Made
Action"A thousand sorrows I seek to mend. A thousand reserves I would expend. To give a thousand dogs their end. The Butcher of Belfor forever, and then." The broken cry of a Ranger who has lost his wife and daughter to the cannibals. In desperation, he e...
