Chapter Thirty-Three

**Dire Situations**

“Byron, silence you’re worrying, we can deal with this situation.” Jason’s vision adjusted to the hall's light and could see the two speakers were Byron and Trent.

“We nearly got out of there with our lives yesterday,” Byron cried. He and Trent were standing at the head of the room while the Elders sat at the long table.

“I knew we should have taken some of the militia with us,” Trent huffed.

“Both of you, get it together,” Nellie cried. “Byron, or Trent, whichever of you can get it together enough. Tell us what happened over in Fallows yesterday so we can come up with a plan. I lost over fifty sheep in that fiasco two days ago, and I can’t be losing anymore or I’ll have to start letting off some of my herders.” There was a round of agreements from the other Elders.

Byron and Trent stared at each other for a moment. Jason saw the sheriff nod, then Byron began to speak. “We got there a little before midday. Should have seen the place; children in the street barefoot, chickens running amuck, people sitting around talking rather than working. It’s no wonder they’ve got such bad luck, they don't make an effort to better themselves. Old Malcolm doesn’t do anything, I'll never know how a lord made him their reeve. We found him drinking with a posse of thugs. From the way, he acted last week you’d think he'd be drowning in tears for his sons, but no he laughing and rolling dice like a sailor fresh off a boat.”

Byron coughed then continued, “we walk up to them, making sure they can see us before we get close. I tried to get Trent to hide his sword outside of the town and pick it up when we left, but he didn’t listen. Malcolm’s thugs didn’t like the look of us and kept their hands on their knives, but no weapons were drawn. Malcolm started smiling and spewing about how he should arrest us as criminals. I nearly had to hold Trent down to stop him from attacking the fools.” The Sheriff huffed but didn’t deny Byron’s story.

“But Malcolm is a coward, he wouldn’t fight us out in the open like that unless he knew he could win. He told his boys to back off then he started to actually talk to us.”

“Talk,” Trent snorted, “more like threaten.”

“Trent,” Nellie hissed.

“What?” Trent cried with raised arms. “The bastard said he’d burn Finchead to the ground unless we brought them the murderer within a day.”

“So they would have needed the culprit by noon today?” Finnan asked, his voice leaned towards curiosity rather than concern.

“Yes,” Trent answered.

“And that’s why you’re worried?” Nellie asked Byron.

Byron nodded and Trent puffed his chest again. “You’re getting worked up about nothing Byron. You know as well as I that Malcolm is a bluffing bastard with more smoke than flame coming out of him. Either way, there was nothing we could do, it's not like we could have given them the killers if we wanted to. Right Byron?” Trent emphasized his question and a chill went down Jason's spine. Trent had slipped and said killers instead of killer, he hoped none of the Elders would notice. Jason was happy that Trent still seemed keen on protecting him and Vanna.

Byron exhaled through his nose, “he’s right, there is nothing we could have done.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not concerned,” Trent added. “Those idiots have proven they’ll pull tricks on us so I’m going to keep the guards on duty, night and day.”

“Byron,” Nellie said. “Do you think it might be time to send word of this to the castle?”

Byron’s face went ashen, “it might be, but there is no telling what kind of hell we might unleash if we bring the nobility into this. They seize any opportunity to go to war with one another. Someone will take advantage of the situation to loot and raid only making things worse for us.”

“So why don’t we settle this once and for all?” Trent cried his face a pulsing shade of red. “I’ll go down there tomorrow with a dozen men and arrest that bastard. I’m a Sheriff of the King and a crime... no multiple crimes have been committed in my jurisdiction. Arson, assault, theft, to name a few.”

“And the burning of the inn,” Finnan cried. Everyone stared at him for a moment unsure of what to say. Jason held his breath waiting for a response.

Trent nodded but didn’t remark on Finnan’s sudden outburst. “Even if Malcolm wasn’t the one who committed the crimes he instigated and led people to commit them.”

“I think if we inform the King he will do something. Malcolm’s attacks are hurting our production and as result lowering the amount of tax we will be able to pay,” Joseph cried out. "That might get him to do something. No idiot would defy the King, not even Malcolm."

All the other Elders and Trent nodded and cheered in agreement, but Byron was still not convinced. “I do not want to pour more fuel onto the flame,” the reeve said slowly. “If we wait and secure the town then this will all pass. They'll see we won't take another attack and leave us alone.”

“As it has for the last twenty years,” Finnan yelled. A round of grumbles agreed. “We’ve waited and waited and I’ve become an old man still plagued by Fallows’ filth. They ruined me, I know it. I may not be able to prove it but I know it. And what about your daughter Esther?” Finnan cried towards a middle-aged woman. “They took her and they won’t even let you see her, or your grandchildren,” he added. “Nellie and the rest of you, how many sheep have you lost over the years without knowing why?” The old man was standing by now and hammering the table with his fist. "And I should be afraid to travel to Exton. If I want to travel on the King's Road I have the bloody damn right to without being harassed by thugs." Jason’s heart beat rapidly and he leaned closer to the opening.

“Finnan,” Byron roared, “sit down you old fool.” Finnan silenced himself and stared back at the reeve, but a moment later he listened to Byron's command and sat back down.

“So we wait then?” Trent asked.

“Yes,” Bryon said without a hint of confusion. “We wait, we keep a guard active day and night, maybe keep the herds closer to town. But we don’t fight, that is not our way and I’ll die before I make one of the young men of our town risk his life over something like this.”

“We can vote on it,” Nellie said.

“No,” Bryon cut her off. “I’m vetoing any decision and using my power as reeve to make this decision.” Nellie nodded back silently, the decision was made.

Finnan huffed. “Outrageous,” he grumbled not worried that everyone could hear his thoughts. The old man stood up and walked out the door. The other elders began to follow suit until only Trent, Byron, and Nellie remained.

“Byron you know my thoughts, but I will follow your decision,” Nellie said. “You’ve led this town for many years and have gotten us through worse.” She reached out and patted the reeve’s shoulder then left the hall.

The remaining two stood silent for a moment, Byron held his head low, but Trent stared at the reeve. “What if there is an attack?” Trent asked, now they were alone he didn’t bother thrashing out with emotions.

“We pray there isn’t,” Byron responded and Trent frowned.

“We could reveal it was that merchant and his warrior?”

“Jason?” Byron asked aghast. Jason’s heart began to race, perhaps Trent didn’t plan on keeping his promise. If Byron’s next words proved wrong he would need to get back to his cottage fast. “We gave him our word Trent,” Byron hissed. “I’d tell Malcolm I murdered his sons before giving Jason and Vanna away.”

“Byron, your loyalties are to Finchead first, not some merchant you met a week ago!” Trent cried.

“Trent, you know they are more than that. We’re lucky Jason came in when he did. Even before this whole crisis, we haven’t had a merchant pass through in months; from Exton or Laxtar. You know the herding families were wrought with stress, some I think we even considering moving out.” Jason nearly revealed his position as he allowed himself to release a sigh of relief, at least Byron was still on their side. “That merchant,” Byron said mockingly, “has helped this town. If that’s not reason enough to protect him, I won’t condemn an innocent man and his friend.”

“Byron,” Trent sighed.

“Trent,” Byron responded sternly, “what happened to your honor.”

“Honor is a young man’s game, I care for this village and wish to not see it burnt down,” Trent spat back at Byron like a slap.

“Trent,” Byron whispered, “forgive me I am beginning to let my emotions get ahead of me. But the matter is settled. If we bring the fight to them we risk starting a war, if we give up Jason we lose any hope of Finchead prospering in the future, that only leaves us with waiting it out.”

“I still don’t like it,” Trent muttered. “But you’re right. We can’t betray Jason, and I couldn’t do that to Vanna.”

“Right,” Byron said. “Now go home or go on a patrol, but I don’t want to see you mustering a raiding party. Alright,” Byron said with a finger pointed at a sheriff. The gesture worked to lighten the tension and Trent smirked.

“Alright Byron, goodnight.” The two shook hands and Trent left. Byron spent a minute to organize the hall and extinguish the torches as well then left as well. Jason sat in the shadow, his worry for the future growing as dark as the space around him.

*****

Vanna listened to Jason’s story in silence. The warrior’s face grew more distraught as the story reached its end. Eliza listened as well, and when Jason finished both he and Eliza stared at Vanna waiting for her thoughts.

Vanna took a sip from the cup next to her and then clapped her hands down on her crossed legs, “well if there is to be a fight, I think we should be a part of it.”

“What!” Eliza and Jason cried in unison, they looked at each other then back at Vanna.

“Vanna, we can hide, we can go back to my hut in the woods,” Eliza cried.

“A fight seems inevitable,” Jason added.

“He’s right,” Eliza agreed. “You two haven’t told me much of you’re backgrounds but I can tell neither of you are from here. Honor is serious to Braccians, and a Fiery Calling wouldn’t be made lightly.”

“Jason,” Vanna said looking at the man, “if we leave what do we do? Through a lucky opportunity and sheer cultivation, you were able to secure a source of income through Finchead, think of how hard that would be to do all over again. Sure now you know more about the…” she was about to say game but Vanna felt awkward using the word around Eliza. “You’re more experienced now as a trader, but we don’t know how long it's going to take to secure an opportunity as good as we have here again.”

“Vanna we agreed we wouldn’t get into any dangerous situations again,” Jason insisted.

“But this is different Jason,” Vanna sighed. “This is our home now and we need to defend it. Everywhere we go we will probably get into equally dangerous situations. We need to decide where we are going to lay our roots and defend. I vote Finchead.”

Jason turned to Eliza but the woman was silent. She began to nod slowly then said, “Jason, I think she might be right. I’ve lost one home, I won’t lose another. From what I’ve gathered, Finchead is larger than Fallows, possibly twice the size. We have sheer size but they can always play tricks on us. If it comes to an outright fight I think we will win though.”

They are right, Jason thought to himself, but part of him still didn’t like the idea of making their base next to a ticking time bomb. “Vanna, we still plan on going to Laxtar tomorrow. But this is our home and we will protect it in any way we can.”

Vanna smiled in satisfaction, but Eliza and Jason kept frowns. “I want a guard dog now,” Eliza finally said.

Jason looked at her and laughed, “yeah, so would I. Do you have a weapon?”

“Just the knife I keep on my belt,” Eliza answered brandishing a short blade no longer than three inches. The weapon would be useless in almost any fight.

“We’ll get you a weapon and I’ll train you,” Vanna said. “It’s important all of us can fight even if we don’t plan on doing any fighting.”

They all nodded and Eliza yawned. “It’s late, and talking has made me tired.”

“Yes, goodnight,” Jason said. Eliza and Vanna said their goodnights then retired to their room. Before Jason went to his cot he went to the front door and test the wooden plank they used to bar the door at night. It strong, but is it strong enough?