Book 1: Chapter 12: Curiosity begets ill rewards.

Book 1: Chapter 12: Curiosity begets ill rewards.

Trouble had decided I was not out of the proverbial woods just yet. Even though I had already left the physical woods behind me. Confrontation awaited as I turned the road toward my farm.

Ishila, bless her heart, stood in the middle of the houses clearing, axe in hand and Gol at her side. I didnt know what to be more amazed at, the fact that she was staring down three riders or that she had gotten Gol to volunteer his presence. Either way, things seemed to have settled into an impasse. I broke into a faster stride and approached the group.

Gols whines announced my presence, and they turned to look. I could see the glimmer of relief on Ishilas face as her tense expression eased. The riders were lightly armed and didnt bear the green colors of baron Ironmoor. Verdant Dawn, then, I wagered.

This was confirmed moments later when one of them stepped forward to introduce himself. Long, lanky, and clean-shaven, he looked to be a youth fresh into adulthood.

Farmer Garek, I hope? He asked, nervousness hidden in his tone.

I nodded in confirmation and curiously looked as he extended one hand. After a moment I took hold and shook it, The boy was nervous, that was obvious to anyone.

Joram, ser. The lad made the introduction with a hitch in his voice. Ser Raffnyk sent us. We were told we could rest here for the night?

Im no ser, lad. I rumbled and nodded, And a friend of Raffnyks is a friend of mine.

They were trying to just ride onto here an claim hospitality, Ishila announced, expression cross. I was doubtin they were who they said.nôvel binz was the first platform to present this chapter.

Ah. I should have informed her to expect riders, but once again, I had overlooked it as a minor detail and forgotten about it. A bad habit I would have to work on.

How long were you at an impasse? I queried.

...an hour? Ishila shrugged. They had no way to prove the worth of their word, and I would not take chances with anything. Especially after yesterday.

Curiosity dawned on Jorams face, but he asked nothing. There would be a question later, I assumed. For now, I just waved the others over as I walked past.

Theyre guests, I told Ishila with a soft smile. Though, you did the right thing, lass. Dont think Im paying you enough to stick up for my humble farm anyhow.

Aint about payment, She mumbled and followed at my side, axe over her shoulder. Gotta look out for other farmers with all these thugs and bandits muckin about.

She didnt so much as flinch as I clapped a hand on her shoulder, only glanced over at my smile.

Thanks. I mean it. But if you see Ironmoors men, just vanish. I can rebuild, but I cant replace some of the best help I ever had.

She grunted non-commitaly, and soon we were gathered by the unlit fire. I watched as the riders hitched up their horses and trickled over, some slower than others. Most were nervous, betrayed by their scent. The young lad, Joram, sat in silence across from ishila as I began to gather the ingredients for a pot of stew. Doubtless they had their own rations, but tonight they were my guests and would suffer my cooking.

So, what does Raffnyk have you lot up to? I broke the silence after a while. It was getting awkward and the most noise from anyone was a few mutters as they glanced between me and Gol.

Were to scout, ser.

Im no ser, I insisted again. Just call me Garek.

A few nods were all I received in affirmation before the lad continued.

Vicious as he is, no one can accuse the good baron of being a fool. Joram solemnly nodded. You being on his bad side will lead to much trouble, I predict.

I commit tax evasion. I rumbled with a thin smile. But any agents he sends to bother me will have their skills in axe evasion tested.

The conversation shifted to small talk, and with less strained topics behind us, I got to know the men who dined at my fire this evening. Joram was the son of a knight who had left the familys service, instead wishing to more actively serve his people. He had been with the Verdant Dawn since he was a young lad, and was a passable rider, though I suspected he said that with a thick layer of modesty. Shtane had wandered into this country and sought a trade where he could make coin and spend most of his time doing nothing, he proudly hissed.

The last man kept his secrets, and I didnt pry.

Keep away from my fields. I offered lightly as Shtane stepped away to relieve himself. You may not like what you find there.

Its an uhh, interesting place you have here.

I laughed a waved it off. He was being polite, at least.

Its half-built and still overgrown. I sighed. But its home.

Speakin of, Ishila grunted and heaved herself up. Thats where I gotta go. I have chores and stuff. See ya tomorrow?

I nodded, and the orc girl set off. Joram rose as well and offered to escort her, only to sit back down when she rejected his offer. The unnamed man excused himself to go check his horse, and all that remained was myself and Joram. The youth quickly looked around and leaned forward, only to stop as I held up my hand.

If youre going to whisper secrets, do it sitting upright so you dont look suspicious.

I could tell he had been itching for the chance to do so.

Ser Raffnyk asked me to pass this to you in confidence. He hurriedly whispered, spine stiffer than a rod. There is far more happening beneath the surface here than what is being shown. Avoid Hullbretch, for the time being. I am not at liberty to say more, but I suspect it would be beneficial if you remained here for a time, a thorn in the barons side.

He clammed up as Shtane emerged from the bushes, a content look on his face. The snake-man gazed around in curiosity and was about to ask something when a scream rang through the night. From the crops.

That fool! I bellowed and burst to my feet. I charged ahead of the others, off towards my fields. Shrill shrieks rang through the night as a man howled in pain. I was headed towards the biter pods, I realized. I had told the idiot to stay out of my crops.

He only still lived because the pods were slow and engorged, still stuffed from yesterdays meal. With a snarl, I grabbed the mans collar and yanked him from the swarm of vines. I could smell the blood here, taste its coppery twang. In the darkness, I pulled him towards the fire and waved off the others as they rushed towards me, weapons drawn.

His limbs remained attached, but not intact. Chunks were missing, and he gasped for air as the shock set in. I gazed upon him and saw a man who was about to die. Until Shtane ripped a flash of thick crimson liquid from his pouch.

Fleshknitter potion. He snarled and ripped the top off. I watched as he sloshed liquid over the bites, and then slapped the man and forced it down his throat. We surveyed him unsteadily as he writhed, and my eyes widened as the flesh began to regrow.

Fucking. Idiot. Shtane hissed. Just had to sneak off for a look. Couldnt just fucking listen for once.

Time passed unsteadily as we gathered to watch the man moan in agony and regrow missing parts. I marveled at the sight as torn muscles visibly rebuilt themselves before skin slithered back over gaping wounds.

That potion was fucking expensive. The snake-man hissed in anger. What are you growing out there anyway?

Well, this would be a fun explanation.