Acting the Part

The rider approached the cloaked traveler, the sound of each clop echoing distinctly into the silent grassland. His eyes darted left and right, hoping to discern any unusual movements in the darkness. The cautious approach unmasked the horseman as someone who experienced or maybe once conducted an ambush.

He pulled the reigns of the horse, a few feet away, keeping his face away from the light and shrouded in darkness. His hands never left the hilt of his sheathed sword. The person huddling at the fire, fumbled while removing his hood. The flickering light clearly showed an uncomfortable face, filled with doubt and fear.

"Are you heading to the village, traveler? You're still about one day ride away."

Ming asked. Out in the roads, a visitor had two identities, either a friend or foe.

The rider did not answer but instead demanded one of his own

"What are you doing on the road? Where are your companions?"

He asked in a haughty manner.

"I'm all alone, and..."

Before Ming could complete his answer, the man pulled out his sword. Using it to communicate, he directed the teen to shuffle out from the campfire and pointed in the direction of the grassland. The rider followed behind, prodding him with the sword when he slowed in the dark.

The teen acted the part of a simpleton.

"Please sir, I have no money, don't kill me."

"Keep walking, one word and I'll kill you here."

Ming sealed his mouth and continued stumbling forward. Only bandits would lure a traveler away from the road. Ambushes like these on simple folk occurred frequently on the roads. Unaware travelers would follow the instructions, hoping to still plead for their life.

Unfortunately, their fates were sealed on that first step into the grassland.

What better method for bandits than to butcher the victims far from the road? Signs of struggle, blood and decomposing body would be swallowed by the vast expanse of land.

Some distance away, on the opposite bank, Jill stood up and silently followed while gripping her crossbow. Dyna walked beside her, making a huge swipe with an arm to wipe her greasy mouth.

"Looks like someone bit the bait..."

"Looks like you need more time in etiquette training."

In a shallow valley, hidden not to far from the road, a large group of riders remained lurking in the darkness. The scout who had left returned with some extra baggage. When the group discerned the figures heading towards them, four horses clipped out to meet them.

"Only one? Is he a peddler?"

A voice spoke. The owner apparently had a great standing in the group, since the reply came swiftly and with obedience.

"No peddler, a slum beggar probably wanting to die in a town rather than a village. They have a habit of running to the towns and cities forerunning the winter."

The scout respectfully answered. On knowing the story, another person used a flint to light a lamp. The small group dismounted, as the leader walked forward. Two of them followed at the side while keeping the flickering light lit. In the light, the luxurious clothes of this figure clearly highlighted his position among the others.

The man had a chiseled feature, sharp eyes and equally sharp-pointed nose. His beard seems to continue the V-shape face, ending with a point. His bearing alone within the group displayed his station.

"Strange though. Slum beggars usually travel in a herd, so as to live through bandit and beast attacks."

He continued

"Where are your companions? Did you kill them already and take their food? Too bad fool, you still have nearly a week to walk to the nearest town. Kill him!"

The man commanded without care. He never wasted time in conversing with commoners. Even when finding a woman to sate his interest among the peasantry, he never negotiated. Seizing and abusing others rightfully belonged to the noble class.

"I have the protection of a House, you can't kill me."

Ming shouted, his voice wavering on hearing his fate. He did not wait for the words to leave the leader's mouth since a swift sword would be hard to dodge. The man frowned in the partially visible light while raising his hand to stall the drawn swords.

Normally any objection to his orders would result in a tongue being cut. Torture usually followed after to satisfy his anger.

The reason he halted the kill, was because he felt something strange. On mentioning a House, he knew his suspicions had been correct. Nobles would not interfere with any disputes among warring Houses. If the opportunity arose, and they had some means of currying favor with a winner, only then might they choose a side.

"Speak."

The shaking teen reached inside his cloak and fumbled for a few seconds with his hands. Very slowly he removed a small iron token, carved with a gold imprint. The scout grabbed it and then held it up close to the lamp. He turned to the boy and sneered.

"This copper looking thing doesn't even match a noble house in Limerock city. Where the hell did you get this piece of crap..."

Pow, pow, pow.

He didn't finish his mocking, because a barrage of slaps made him see stars. And not the ones twinkling in the sky.

The leader motioned with his hands again and the guard who administered the slaps passed the token to him. The recipient of the barrage sat stunned on the grass, rubbing his swelling face. The commander of this party twirled the token around his long fingers, the frowning face gradually changing into an expression of shock.

He stared at the ruffled teen, clothed in rags and with a face that easily could be lost in a crowd. The letter and a brief conversation with Young Master Wu, never mentioned this development. Then again, the Young Master would not explain his every plan to a simple noble as himself.

As expected of the shrewd minds of those living in the Capital. They always seem to hatch numerous plans geared towards achieving a goal, leaving no room for failure.

"Where are you heading little friend..."

***

Two days later.

"Little brother, are you sure about this?"

A scout whispered while they hid behind a clump of bushes, still wet with the morning dew.

"Trust me, when I came here, they had me working the fields like a slave. After that, I had to chop lumber here, while fearing for my life. It was then that I happened to see the true motive of these bastards. Only when Young Master Wu enlightened me, did I have the guts to steal."

The teen recounted his life story again of maybe the hundredth time. Of course, nobody in this scouting party tried to stop him, because he had proven his worth.

Since that night when they captured him, Patriarch Prickus decided to test him. The budding young man, though coming across at first glance as a simpleton, actually possessed some brains. He quickly grasped the reasoning behind the party not traveling on the roads.

Since they had wanted to remain low-key and avoid any gossip, the boy led them across the grasslands, exiting on the Old Army Road, south of the farm. The Patriarch had wanted to raid the place yesterday, but after some discussion with the boy, he commanded the party to enter the forest.

Luckily they found an abandoned corral and tower in the south. Leaving around twenty guards to look after the horses, they had camped the night in the forest... waiting.

A scout signaled with his finger to his lip, then pointed to a location between the trees.

"Looks like I was right."

The five remained still, refusing to even draw breath. In the distance a small group left the lumber clearing, entering into the depths of the forest. Whenever a loud crack sounded from a dry branch snapping by accident under a foot, they stopped and scanned all around. Gripping makeshift spears as comfort they continued along what seemed to be a marked trail.

The five stalkers followed far behind, aware that any sound would cause this particular party to scatter, if not die from a panic attack. When the wary farmers stopped, the trackers hid behind a rotting log, having crawled close enough to overhear the conversation.

"No, the goblins are still there. Last time how many did you see Jim?"

The man called Jim raised his hands and curled his fingers once before opening. Indicating roughly around twenty. A scout nearly snorted-- stupid lowly commoners couldn't even count.

"To fight them we need the whole camp to attack if we want to regain the mine. We have no choice. Tomorrow we will bring everyone and recapture the cave. All our hard work for the last two years are still there."

A short while later, they left the area. Ming and the scouts peeked out into a clearing, all doubts now dispelled on the boy's assumption. With rapid beating hearts, and smiling faces they followed their own chipped markings to return to camp.

"Should we have ambushed them, capturing them for interrogation?"

Ming shook his head, but the more experienced scout leader answered first.

"We have already proven the story true. No need to make a commotion, which may alert the goblins nearby. The priority is to deliver the news to the Patriarch. I suspect the Patriarch will decide to attack the cave today, especially since the farm plans to attack tomorrow."

Another scout then grasped the train of thought.

"If we can attack today, then tomorrow we can ambush the entire farm. A win-win situation. Ah, we need to hurry back with this report."

***

"You sounded really convincing Jim, I nearly believed you."

"Haha... you're not bad yourself. Shivering and jumping at every little noise, you fooled me with your acting."

Jim answered.

Halter made a wry smile.

"Tell you the truth, all that wasn't acting. Ever since arriving at the farm, this is the first time I have stepped foot into the forest. I don't know how you guys love to hunt in this dreadful place. I feel like a piece of meat being eyed by a pack of wolves."

He said.

"No matter, Ming is safe for now, so lets head home to report. I think the Boss will plan something tonight."

Toll chimed.

The group swiftly fled on the marked path out of the forest. A shadow followed them for a little way, before turning towards the trail left by the eavesdropping scouts.

***

Within the forest, an armed man sat on the bough of a tree, partially hidden by the blazing colors of the leaves. Nearby, was another man in a similar position. Not too far, an archer fiddled with his bow, leaning against a massive tree trunk.

In the surrounding vicinity, around eighty men positioned themselves, whether standing, sitting, or crouching they all waited in anticipation. Colored leaves fell like snow, covering the cold earth.

In the protective center of this group, the Patriarch of the Prickus House waited while remaining seated on a log. His hands lay on the horizontal sword resting on his lap while his fingers twirled around the rough stones rolling in his palm. Soon after, the faint sounds of rustling leaves and crunching branches grew louder in the distance.

A team of five scouts appeared from between the trees, covering the ground at a brisk pace, now without a care in keeping silent. The Leader soon observed the excited faces as they became recognizable. Only one face had a different expression, displaying a sense of pride and understandable smugness.

"It's true, what the boy says is true my Lord."

"The little brother is correct, it exists."

The Leader nodded his head in approval. His face remained as a mask of calm; expressionless and radiating sharpness. Deep inside, however, the volcano erupted in joy. A little of this reached his stiff lips, creating a faint sliver of a smile, before disappearing. His eyes could not dispel the greed that swirled within it.

"Can we take it?"

The lead scout contemplated for a moment before answering his Leader.

"The clearing is large as a village, but the hill itself is not as high. As long as we make it to the cave entrance, the goblins have no way to stop us. We can slaughter the twenty or so camping there within a few breaths."

He based his estimate on the numbers he overheard from the previous conversation.

The Patriarch remained silent in thought.

"The stories say that goblins are supposed to be nightly creatures. If we make haste from our camp, then we should be able to strike before nightfall. Tonight should be a full moon, a perfect omen of slaughter. Make preparations, I want to inspect the cave by evening."

He ordered. His eyes moved towards the marble sized stones in his hand. On close inspection, they looked like ordinary rocks found in mines. The chipped surface indicated that the two stones had been mined.

Very ordinary, if one were to ignore that half of the stone had a rough golden surface.

A gold ingot.

A gold mine...