The Key of Ban
The three warriors held a short meeting in the tall grass next to the river. They agreed upon a simple plan to gain information about the Empire. Each of the warriors would enter the village alone and snoop around. They would meet at the old boathouse south of town at midnight to share their findings.
Coaldon, wearing ragged clothes, wandered into the streets of the village. As he slowly ambled down the street, two pale faced and shabbily dressed men confronted him.
The taller man said, “We are Crossmore’s vigilantes. We are here to protect the village from rebellion. What are you doing here?”
Coaldon lowered his head as he stammered, “I am just passing through the village. I am on my way to N-N-Neverly to find work. I will be leaving tomorrow. I only wish to find a meal and a place to sleep.”
The narrow faced vigilante gave Coaldon a swift kick sending him to his knees. He then jerked up Coaldon by the collar as he threatened, “Be out of my sight, or I will turn you over to the soldiers. Now get out of here!”
Coaldon limped into the shadows of a building while the two men laughed at his cowering behavior. He watched as the two of them slouched down the street toward the Inn. Coaldon slipped around the back of the clothing store and sat below an open window of the Community Room in the Log Inn. The community room was the social gathering place where villagers came to discuss the events of the day, drink ale and enjoy a good meal.
Coaldon pulled his hood over his face to hide himself in the shadows of the building. From his position under the window, he could easily hear the conversation coming from the Inn. At first the discussions were the usual: farm, family, friends, crop prices and weather. Coaldon’s thoughts drifted until he heard the name Wastelow. He abruptly became aware of the conversation.
“I heard Emperor Wastelow is very ill and is not expected to live. I wonder who will be crowned Emperor if he dies?”
“I am sure it will be Prince Regee.”
“I would support the wise leadership of Crossmore. He would be reluctant to be Emperor, but he would help the common person.”
Crouched outside the window, Coaldon had to bite his lip to keep from responding.
“I saw ten new soldiers arrived in the village today. This means we now have twenty. Why do we need so many troops to protect us from nothing?”
“I heard troops are patrolling the North South Road to guard the Empire from rebels. Have any of you traveled the road lately?”
“Yes, I just arrived today from Neverly. I went through five checkpoints to get here. I was amazed at the number of vagrants looking for food and shelter. I believe the high taxes are draining the wealth from the Empire.”
“Well, it is hurting farmers for sure.”
A loud crash interrupted the conversation. Coaldon took a chance on a peek through the window to observe what was happening. The tall vigilante stood in front of an overturned table with a knife in his hand.
In an angry voice he declared, “Do not question the wisdom of Wastelow and Crossmore! Say one more word criticizing our noble leaders and you will be sent to Neverly in chains. Or maybe, I could take care of any rebellious attitudes right here and now? I have sworn absolute obedience to the Emperor and Crossmore. I will accept no more words of descent. Ah! Ah! Ah! The vigilantes support the Empire with knife and sword. Long live Crossmore!”
The room became silent after the vigilante’s outburst. Most villagers quickly left the Inn in small groups.
Coaldon heard a man say, as he stepped into the street, “In the old days we could speak freely without threats. Now fear and death seem to be the tool used to control the Empire.”
“You had better be quiet, or you will face the power of the knife.”
Coaldon had heard enough. He retreated to the back of the Log Inn and walked several blocks to a small hut standing recessed in a grove of trees. The young warrior approached the hut silently and peered into a window to gain a view of the room. Seated in a wooden chair was a large, muscular, young man with brown hair and blue eyes. Raff was the local blacksmith.
Coaldon walked to the front of the house and knocked on the door. After a long pause the door slowly opened. The young man stood in the doorway ready to defend himself with a short sword. He looked down at Coaldon with the authority of a massive body.
He growled, “Go away! I have no extra food or drink! I will use this sword if you try anything.”
Coaldon regarded the young man in silence.
He finally said, “Raff, it is good to see you. I have missed you.” Raff ’s mind struggled to remember the name of this beggar. Coaldon said, “How is Paggy? Is she still singing like a song bird?” Raff only stood in silent frustration.
Coaldon finally said, “It’s me, Coaldon.”
Raff ’s eyes widened as he recognized his dear old friend. He hugged Coaldon in a burst of happiness.
Raff responded, “I am so happy to see you. I thought you had become one of Wastelow’s dead or missing. Why the disguise and secrecy? What has been happening?”
Coaldon said, “May I come in before someone sees me talking to you?”
Raff blushed as he recognized he was not being a good host. He responded, “Come in and please forgive my mess.”
Coaldon sat in a straight back, wooden chair next to the stone fireplace.
He commented, “I do not have enough time this evening to discuss old times. I want to talk with you about the future of the Empire. There is growing rebellion against Wastelow’s violence and lies. I am here to ask for your help. You must maintain complete secrecy about this visit. A great deal has happened since our last visit. I am a member of a group willing to risk our lives to save the Empire. I can say no more, but I am asking you to consider helping us.”
Raff sat quietly absorbed in Coaldon’s comments. He looked first at Coaldon then at the flames flickering in the fireplace. As he again looked at his friend, he abruptly smiled.
He responded, “I have feared only a rebellion could end this reign of terror. I fully support and encourage your efforts. I will hold this conversation in complete confidence. You are my best friend. I would trust you with my life. Through my work in the blacksmith shop, I know of many people in the village who would agree with you. I will start gaining support from people in the community. Secrecy is essential.”
Coaldon nodded, “I must go, but I hope to return to see you in several months. Please tell Paggy hello for me. You can make a difference.”
The men shook hands before Coaldon walked out of the hut. Without looking back, he headed down a dark side street to the edge of the river.
He followed a narrow path until it passed a clump of trees and brush near the river’s bank. Using the underbrush as a cover, he walked until he saw the old boathouse. He was guided by the firelight shining through the open door. As Coaldon entered the small room, Pacer and Patrick casually greeted him.
Pacer leaned forward, “How did it go?’
Coaldon took a seat on an old wooden box next to the door.
He responded, “I learned the community is being controlled by fear and intimidation. The vigilantes are running things with a rough hand.”
Stirring the fire, Pacer asked, “Anything else?”
“Yes, I visited with my old friend Raff. I have known him since I was a small child. He is interested in joining the rebellion. He assured me many local people are becoming frustrated by the taxes and violence. I also learned the Empire has set up road blocks along the North-South Road between here and Neverly.”
Both Pacer and Brother Patrick agreed that fear and anger were evident in the village. They had also noticed an obvious conflict developing between the people who supported the Emperor and those who did not.
Pacer commented, “If this frustration and anger continues to expand, we will have the army we need to face Wastelow. We can talk in the morning. Our hike to Neverly will offer us many hours to grow tired of each other’s conversation.”
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On the Road to Neverly