Orn stacked the peeled potato on top of the others and reached for another from a rapidly diminishing pile. Despite his work, the young knight student’s attention seemed fixed on an empty corner of the room.

Tack shook his head and kept walking. That will not keep him for long. He is getting faster. If I did not know better I would think he had a cooking skill. The thought of the goddesses giving Orn such a useless skill seemed almost fitting. He does seem to spend more time than any other knight confined to quarters and on kitchen duty.

From behind him, he heard the Orn whisper something accusatory about not being told that he was going to be a day late. I wonder who that was directed toward? Probably whoever he imagined standing in that comer he was glaring at.

Since Orn was at least temporarily occupied, Tack headed for the old library. Orn’s explanation of his activities over break raised several concerns. Tack’s request to the merchant guild had been politely rejected, but their lack of a negative response spoke volumes. Even putting aside Orn’s claim of singlehandedly killing a goblin mother, his interactions with the king’s man and this Burrach worried him. A king’s man speaks with the king’s voice. They differ to very few: priests, high ranking nobles, the king’s sworn knights… Tack ran through the list of possibilities and dismissed each in turn. He could be a low ranking noble on his own lands, but that does not quite fit either.

Tack’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of an older student force marching a couple of younger students toward him. The younger students clearly look to have been in a fight. Tack sighed, I hope this will not take long… Actually this may be a good thing.

…

Kranc seethed at the sound of gravel crunching under his feet. The sound of each step served as a reminder that the more senior members of his firm had taken the carriages. They knew that I needed to travel today, but pretended their clients were more important. They are just wealthy men. His client’s family was one generation away from nobility.

“They are just jealous,” he muttered to himself. He remembered when the man had walked into his office after being politely turned away form the more senior members of the firm. The thought of their expression when he revealed the reason the man had come were amusing at least. A contract to move a village into his grazing lads. It gave him the old lands and let him keep some of the ones he had on the land he already had. The man was nearly made a Baron overnight.

It did not change Burrach’s path. That was set on his path day. But his children, Kranc thought, they will have their path’s chosen after the deal.

The man had visited a few times to discuss the recording of loans and a handful of other documents. It was all minor work, and little of it required someone of his path let alone his skills. But it was always promptly paid. The current matter was unfortunately very different. His client was in custody, and without him Kranc’s chance for advancement within the firm was all but nonexistent.

It should have been a simple matter to clear his name, Kranc thought as he trudged forward. The merchant’s guild should have recorded the amounts delivered, and the total being offered.

He sighed at the thought of how easy it would be to clear his client’s name with that one sheet of paper. Unfortunately the records were not forthcoming. The guild master even personally came out to tell him to leave. His protests were met with a threat of violence.

Threaten to throw me out will you? he grumbled internally. Just wait until you get summoned to explain yourself. His Majesty’s steward is not known for patience with those who obstruct justice.

The thoughts of the guild master’s just deserts were disturbed by a uniformed boy calling out to him from the academy’s gate.

“Who goes there?” the uniformed young man asked adjusting his grip on a halberd.

Kranc refused to yell at the boy. Boys, he corrected as he noticed as another uniformed young man appeared from the shade on the far side of the gate. The idea of yelling, back and forth seemed absurd when he would be at the gate in a few moments. There is simply no reason for such uncouth behavior when I will be able to talk to them normally in a few moments.

He continued forward and was about to introduce himself, when the boy leveled the halberd at Kranc’s middle. He drew up short and took a hurried step back as the other boys halberd joined the first. The afternoon sun glinted off the sharpened spikes pointed at him.

“Stop,” the first boy said his words came out a bit thick because of what was clearly a swollen lip.

“State your name and business,” the second continued more clearly, though Kranc noticed the boy’s left eye was well on its way to swelling shut.

“What is the meaning of this?” Kranc responded , shocked at their behavior. “I am a counselor and I am here to see the perpetrator of a vile slander against my client. What is your business getting in my...”

“Do you have a pass?” the second boy replied flatly.

“What? I have a right to…” Kranc started, but the boy waved the menacing spike at face level.

“No pass, no entry,” the first boy replied leaning his weapon back against his shoulder.

“Now get lost.” the second added irritably, but kept his pole-arm an arm’s length from Kranc’s face.

“I will do no such thing.” he snapped. “I have a right to…” He ducked and staggered backwards as the spike slowly moved toward his face.

“You have a right to get lost or get stabbed in your dumb mouth,” The boy replied glaring at Kranc. “If you want to talk to someone send a letter and ask for a pass.”

When he did not move, the boy reversed the weapon and drove the butt of the pole-arm into his middle. Kranc staggered backwards and clutched his stomach.

“I said get lost,” the boy snapped. “It is bad enough I am stuck out here on a hot day. But if I have to stand one more minute in the sun because you refuse to go, I will send you to the goddesses.”

Kranc backed away his eyes flitting nervously between the two young men. “I will take this up with the king’s steward,” he wheezed but the treat sounded weak even to himself.

The young men sneered at him in response and returned to their positions on either side of the gate.

Kranc had never been so humiliated in his entire life. He would not let this stand he could not.