...lancers encampment.

[[Deost]]

The tracks of horses were left in the dried earth; cracked, quiet -- incomplete horseshoes due to the ones ahead in the column trampling those behind. The lead rider, motions silently, and they split from twin columns to three-rows, then into four-rows for a mile or three, before, another motion of hand and it's back to two-rows. After more miles, the verge of trees, the cracked ground turning to rolling hills then fully into trees makes them pause. The edge of the woods is where they set camp. All twenty of them. The tallest, wearing odd armor at the left arm directs the other, whereas a shorter one seems to be the one commanding, fully -- directing the remaining. Tents are set up, in neat circular rings with the fire-pit in the middle. And behind them? Circling are wagons laden with grain, and other food stuffs.


"So, you want to send the wagons on ahead, sir?"

"Mm. Yeah, send Dragauex on ahead with Carrow to Myrkentown with the wagons, take it into the storehouse we've rented. Keep it there, and under lock and key. Station ten of them inside, no smoke, no fire, they can come back here to eat, in shifts of three. Don't wear uniforms, either. The others, go with you, find the govenor's house, and take up positions around it, blend in if necessary. We're not here officially, and we're not here to intrude into normal workings. We're conscripted, hired-ons, sell-swords to guard the govenor. That's all."

"Yes sir. So you want me personally, to see to him?"

"Yes. I want you there, as you'll be able to guard him better than anyone. Just, don't get in her way. She's touchy, as it is. And, there's magus about, with some sort of mentalism. So, you know what to do."

"Aye, M'lord."

"Will you quit calling me that."

The larger man chuckles.

"Funny, very funny, Kohler."

"It is about time you smiled."

The shorter one, just looks at him, before turning to work.

"Anything else, sir."

"Yes, make sure that they're both safe. As, he's liable to do something rash as to save her, or protect her himself, and when he does that he is not logical, nor rationale -- and tends to put himself in danger. If anything, she is the worst guard for him, because he is attached to her. So, if anything, keep her out of the way, and doing something else besides being beside him."

"Are you sure that is wise? She might take it differently, as you interfering."

"I don't really care, Kohler. It matters little, their feelings if they are safe. They can get mad, later."

"I still think it is unwise."

"Then do as you see fit, Captain."

"Does that mean I'm dismissed?"

"Yes, go on ahead, alone. There will be little for you to do, asides that. And, Carrow and I shall join you at some time."

"Your will, m'lord."

There's a one eyed stare back at the large man, but it's to his back now that he turns and mounts horse, and departs.

One man, with an ornate recurve bow strapped to his back, spits a small peice of grass to one side. He'd been watching the exchange for some time, and merely states.

"Take your own advice. You're too close, as well."

"I didn't ask for your advice."

"Your right, you didn't. And you're being just as irrationale. You can't do everything, you know."

"And, I didn't need you telling me the obvious."

"You sure about that?"

"Just do your duty, Carrow."

"I always do, m'lord."

"Not you too."

"Well, when you act like that, how do you expect us to reply?"

"Honestly? I expect you to reply as if you're my friend."

"Well then, I always do, and you need to pull that stick out of wherever you got it lodged, and use your mind."

"What? I am using my mind. And I'm coming up with a plan to help everyone involved, and make sure everyone is safe."

"Except yourself."

"No, myself included."

"Mhm. I'll believe it, when I see it."

"And now you're taking words from my mouth."

The bowman merely smiles, that faintest thing, before turning on heel.

"Someone has to, otherwise, you won't listen."

Then, the bowman merely leaves the other man alone, before stalking off towards the wagons.

---


Hours later, the wagons begin their trek towards town, with the bowman at the lead.

A horse rides hard, and fast for Myrken.


And a man sits alone, on a stump, with a horse behind him, staring at the dirt.

[[Deost]]

And now, the three are scattered to the wind and at opposite ends of Myrken. Stationed at their respective points. The one-armored armed man, standing infront of a door; sentinel.

The bowman, hiding in town, admist the people -- watching the storehouses.


And the last one; sitting elsewhere, contemplating.


"You never were good with self pity."

"I never had time to be, nor the inclination."

"And why is that?"

"It's pointless, isn't it."

"Yes, it is. You see, self-pity, wallowing is mere drowning, or do you not remember that conversation."

"I remember it clearly."

"You should. Always."

"And why is that?"

"Because, you waste too much time wallowing instead of acting."

"You sound like Kohler."

"He's right, you know."

"Right... about what?"

"Everything, usually."

"That's vague."

"So is the question."

"You know the question."

"Perhaps, but you have to *ask* it."

"What is he right about? Self-pity, or the fact she doesn't need my help?"

"Both."

"You're still being vague."

"You're answering your own questions, I don't need to specify, now do I?"

"Most likely not."

"Is that always your answer to everything? Some half-answer, that begs the question?"

"Perhaps."

"You're doing it again. Always, most likely, perhaps, as it were, all these phrases you say all the time. You're indecisive."


"And you're not."

"Not at all."

"So what, you're going to give me more psuedophilosophical babble, some conundrum that's supposed to enlighten me?"

"No."

"So you're going to shut up, then?"

"No."

"So what's your point?"

"Meddling isn't impressive, it's pointless. It never accomplishes what you want. What you think by meddling, by helping, that you'll be lauded, and appraised as something worthy, this time? That it makes you special, that you'll be dare I say it, loved?"

"No."

"You're not a good liar."

"No."

"Repeating the same answer doesn't make it true."

"No."

"...don't you know what you are?"

"No. Wait."

"Ha ha ha. See, repetition doesn't make truth. It just makes, repetitious nonsense."

"You're one to talk."

"Not true."

"It is too, true. That's all you do. Talk, talk, talk. Why don't you do something."

"Be careful what you wish for."


---


A rock is flung, skipping sideways across the lake before it ricochets across a floating branch then hits the tree trunk with a thock. Exhalation; inhalation -- ozone wafts quietly, one eye cuts sidelong, shoulders straighten, sabre-hilts adjusted neatly, meticiously, boots scuff dirt and slide into stirrup. Hoisted into saddle, before the horse is led away from the clearing.