213 years later:

Oh to find the one thing that will prove my right to my station as King’s Marshall…..

To be the King’s Marshall is – to sum it up in one word – lonely.  As his Marshall, I have the distinct pleasure of being despised by, quite possibly, everybody whether they know me personally or not.  My word is the law and subject only to King Tramadon.  Even his prissy son, Prince Kensington, has no authority to pass judgments without my approval…

Kaylan snapped out of her reverie and rode to the edge of the woods where the clearing housed the small northern village of Shackles.  The dense forest that surrounded the town prevented additional growth.  It appeared that the villagers had attempted on several occasions to cut the forest back to make room for more homes and businesses but the forest would not yield.  Another slightly larger village, known as Shaddix, was a half day’s ride south of Shackles where many of the younger residents tended to migrate when this one became overcrowded.  The elders, however, never moved.  They remained here in the heavily wooded Shackles, as unyielding as the forest.  This was the reason Kaylan was here now, to speak to the elders.  She waited under the cover of the evergreen boughs watching for any activity in the village.  The sun had long since set and it was late, by anyone’s standards, to enter town especially one of this slight size.  Shadow pawed the ground impatiently and shook his mane to get Kaylan’s attention.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered to him into the cool night air, “we’ll go in just a moment.”  She could feel him shift his weight from side to side as his impatience continued to build.  She understood his pensive mood for she, too,  was quite ready to get out of the saddle. 

She nudged Shadow into the clearing and wound their way along the muddy street to the hospitality room.  Not that I will receive any amount of hospitality but, she sighed, that is to be expected.  She stopped in front of the split level building that had a sign hanging from the covered porch indicating it to be the local gathering hole even though the village wasn’t large enough to warrant a full-fledged inn.  The sign had a white crescent moon with a bunch of pale grapes draping the bottom edge of the moon.  The innkeeper rushed out to greet her, although greet is not exactly the right word for it.  No, she thought, STOP would be a much better word.  

“Madam Marshall, good evening,” he greeted her in a flustered tone.

“Good evening, indeed,” replied Kaylan flatly.  “I am in need of a warm meal and a clean bed for the evening.  Is your establishment one that can provide this?”  She narrowed her gaze at him so that he clearly understood she expected nothing less than a ‘yes’ answer.

“Of… of… course, madam,” he stammered.  “The Pale Moon and Ale is open to… all… guests.  Our rooms provide a warm, quiet, comfortable and clean reprieve from one’s travels,” he said managing to regain his composure.

“Then you will see to my horse?” It was a question that they both knew was more command than question.

“At once, Madam.  Conner!” he yelled inside and a young man not much younger than Kaylan herself came outside.  He took one look at Kaylan’s insignia and spat on the ground just inches from where she stood.  Without waiting for the innkeeper’s instructions Conner took the reins from Kaylan and led Shadow along the side of the building to the back of the inn. 

Kaylan smiled at the innkeeper which only caused him to fidget.  She sighed to herself.  It’s always the same.  I don’t know why I would expect anything different.  She motioned to the innkeeper to lead the way inside.

Once inside the innkeeper introduced himself as L’Aryk, eldest son of the previous innkeeper.  He showed her to a room that was on the south wall of the kitchen’s fireplace chimney.  The bed was placed along that wall allowing the heat from the kitchen to keep the chill evening outside.  She inspected the bed and found it to be comfortable and bug free, for now.  She told the innkeeper it was acceptable and gave him a few silver coins.  He looked at the coins with confusion.

“I pay for my lodging,” she explained.  “However, if I am in the least bit displeased with my stay, I pay nothing – and you will be lucky to have a place of business at all.”  She looked into L’Aryk’s eyes and held his gaze.  “Do I make myself clear?” she asked in a deadly tone.

“Um… crystal… madam, but you owe me nothing for your stay.  It is an honor to serve my king,” he answered nervously.

“Humph, I’m sure,” she replied sarcastically.  “I will be down shortly for my meal.  I wish to freshen up first.  Please be sure to keep it warm for me.  Also, I wish to speak to the village elders.  Would you be so kind as to gather them here?”  She flashed a vicious smile that sent him scrambling to comply.

Kaylan closed her door behind him and slumped onto the bed.  Why does it always have to be so dramatic?  Just then there was a firm knock on her door.  Kaylan rose from the bed, drew her sword and opened the door keeping her sword between herself and whoever was on the other side.  Conner stood there with her saddle bags in hand.  Kaylan lowered her sword but remained ready to fight if necessary. 

He scoffed at the sword and said, “I thought you might want to keep these with you instead of in the stable.”  He was quiet but confident.  Obviously, by his display downstairs, he did not fear her or any punishment she may inflict for his lack of respect.

She accepted the bags and thanked him, in a rather mocking manner, for being so concerned.  He left her standing in the doorway.  She started to close the door but then paused to watch him descend the stairs.  He kept his head high and his shoulders squared until he got to the fourth step down.  Then she saw his head and shoulders both sag forward as if in defeat.  So, it was all bravado.  It’s amazing such a strapping young man would be so concerned that I think him brave instead of respectful.  Hmmmm… Perhaps it is meant more for his father’s benefit instead of mine.  It is as if he wants his father to believe he is undaunted by my station.  Reality seems to be a bit different though, she thought as she closed the door to the view of his slumped back. 

She dropped her bags onto the floor next to the bed and sank back to the quilted mattress.  She cast an eye about the room and spied a water basin in one corner with a towel laid out next to it.  She crossed the short distance of the room and washed her face and hands up to her elbows.  She felt only minimally refreshed. What she needed was a bath and clean clothes.  She eyed her bags and thought about the change of clothes she had packed in them but decided against it.  Better to present myself in a dirty vest, britches and boots with a sword at my side rather than a clean tunic and leggings if I am to make a true Marshall impression upon these people. Obviously, there are some in this village that do not quake at the sound of my name much less my physical presence. 

She left her room with confidence that no one would disturb anything inside.  No doubt the entire village had already been notified of her arrival.  She just hoped the elders were gathered downstairs for she rarely cared to enact justice for failure to comply with the Marshall’s directions. For this reason, she made every attempt to never make impossible demands or decrees.  She did not take pleasure in making examples of people especially when they were elderly.  She was raised to revere her elders, not take their lives unnecessarily.  There was no reward in fruitless killing.