In a vineyard between Deliar and Hials
Calais kept low on his horse, his head almost resting on hers, as they trotted through the last of the trees. It was an uncomfortable position to sit in but at least it kept him slightly warmer as the icy breeze bit at his back and any exposed skin. Given the colour of his horse it also helped them keep some measure of stealth, as not only were they a smaller target this way but Calais snow laden cloak was able to drape over a large section of the horses mid section. As he exited the tree-line Calais came into one of the large open fields of the Vineyard, its crop having of course withered under the columns of heavy snow. “Come on girl, we’re almost there now.” He said as he patted his horse, sat upright and pushed into a gallop. As he arrived at the large building he caught sight of a couple of silhouettes peering through misty window and within moments one of the workers came out to meet him.
“Good tidings Ranger. Would you like me to tend to your horse? Wilson and his apprentice have been waiting a day or so for your arrival.” Greeted the worker, one who Calais recognised but whose name completely skipped him. “I’m afraid Tanvir went with some of the other workers to Deliar this morning, but he met your friends and he said to greet you and offer lodgings.” continued the worker as he patted the tired horse. The vineyard sat at the furthest reach of Calais’ watch and had begun to serve as a meeting point between him and another Ranger named Wilson who patrolled to the South-West of Deliar. Tanvir was the owner of the vineyard and had grown accustomed to the Rangers; whilst many were cautious and even sometimes of the Rangers, Tanvir took comfort in knowing that should he or the vineyard come to harm that the Rangers might assist.
“I would greatly appreciate it, thank you.” replied Calais. Not standing around to wait for the worker who now led Ebony into the stable, Calais made his way into building. The inside was warmly lit by the fireplace and by candle, probably more-so than it would be were the owner here. By the fire sat a couple of children and to their side a young woman who smiled at the newcomer. With a quiet nod of her head she directed him into one of the other rooms where he found two rangers sitting in the corner.
“Well met Calais, have you been rolling around in the snow?” mused Wilson, the elder of the two Rangers, as he took notice of the snow melting off his colleague. Wilson was a stocky man beyond his prime with long scruffy grey hair, a heavy beard, and scars which bore testament to hard lived life.
Calais shook his head as he undid his cloak and found somewhere to hang it. “No, I think I’ll leave such childish things to your young apprentice!” he said in an almost serious voice, earning a smirk from Wilson and a less than pleased glare from his apprentice Baldrick.
“And are you not a good enough Ranger to take on an apprentice of your own? Is that why you come running to us now? Because you are unable to fulfil your duties?” retorted Baldrick. Baldrick was around 16 of age and was overconfident, especially for someone of his age. He held true to his noble origins and it was not hard to notice the sense of entitlement that the young man carried with him. In truth Calais truly hated the boy and felt that before long his recklessness would likely get Wilson killed.
“Still a better Ranger than you’re ever likely to become. Unfortunately I’ve been made weary of getting an apprentice due to the likes of a certain little shit-bag.” replied Calais as he turned back to Wilson, “Irtan has not been kind to you has he? Was possessed you to take on such a brat?”
By this point Baldrick had gone red and his hand rested on the hilt of his knife. Calais noticed but ignored it, knowing that even if the kid had the balls that he wouldn’t get very far. Wilson however was oblivious and laughed whole-heartedly at the banter between the two, “What can I say friend? I like the challenge! But am I right in guessing that you’ve not come so far to meet us just to wind up the lad?”
Calais’ slightly amused demeanour quickly faded into that of a serious one as he took a seat. “No, you’re right. For little over a week now I’ve been tracking a small group of bandits. I was put on their tail after a farm outside of Hials was attacked. It looks like they were just after a couple of the farmers livestock, probably due to hunger, but the farmer was a hot-headed man and went after them pitchfork in hand.”
“Then rather than running away they decided to kill the silly bugger?” guessed Wilson who had heard the same story many times before.
“Correct. In anger they then returned to the farm and had their way with the famers wife. Fortunately some farmhands took the children and hid in the woods. They claimed there were only three of the bastards, but since I’ve been following them I’ve counted ten, so they probably belonged to a larger group. They’ve not caused any additional harm since, in great part due to the fact they’ve not had the opportunity to; not many homesteads to be found out in the forests. They have been travelling north-westerly roughly towards Deliar, but have perhaps strayed too far North. I last had sight of them down over at Cragsire Ridge and by my estimate they’ve probably found themselves near the loch by now.” explained Calais.
“Hmmm… that is concerning. If they are heading towards Deliar then I imagine they took to the wild for fear of coming across the legions or guards on the main roads, so perhaps we’re dealing with deserters? In this weather they must be nearing exhaustion and I imagine they will be desperate for food. The fishermen may find themselves at the mercy of fillet knifes.” Wilson stroked his beard in a thoughtful manner before continuing, “If your estimate is true then we cannot afford time to warn the guard. We’ll have to deal with this ourselves, even if it doesn’t fall within either or our patrols.”
