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The stone hallways of the monastery were quiet and shrouded in darkness except for the occasional candle left burning in the wall. A few candles were left burning during the night for those monks who may be attending an all night vigil or for elderly monks who no longer felt comfortable using their chamber pots.

Each time Caswyn approaches a segment of the hallways that was lit by one of these candles he became nervous, and would pause straining with his ears to hear if any of the brothers stirred. After a few minutes of no sound save the flickering of the candles as is sputtered and jumped in one of the monastery’s many drafts, Caswyn would hurry through the candles light.

Keeping his hood pulled low over his eyes and holding the hem of his brown robes in his hands so that they did not swish against the carpeted floor when he finally made his move through this the largest path of light he would cross through before arriving at his cell, Caswyn wondered how long he had paused here. ‘Twenty minutes?’ The room was called the Commons by the order because many monks liked to meet there to discuss the scriptures. Four stone hallways lead into the Commons, one from each direction. Caswyn stood in the shadows of the eastern tunnel his destination lay across the room and down the western tunnel. The commons was lit by four candles still burning on the walls, whose light almost reached the center of the room, and a large tallow candle on a stand in the center of the room the completed the full illumination of the room.

The Commons was often left illuminated all night as a result of its central location and because theological discussions did not always end when the sun went down. At the moment the room was empty and no discussions were occurring, for which Caswyn was especially grateful. As an initiate he was not allowed to leave the monastery, his soul was not strong enough yet, if caught outside of his room at this time he would face immediate expulsion at the very least. Historically initiates who broke this rule were blinded before being expelled from the order, but since no initiate had been caught in the last century Caswyn was unsure if the old rules still applied.

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Across the man’s chest black cloth was used to display his standard, a red circle with a red diagonal line cutting through it. The lines on the standard were not smooth; instead their edges were rough as though they had been painted with a brush to achieve the desired look. Something about the standard seemed familiar toe Tharetes but he was unable to locate its meaning in his memory.

“The ultimatum I bring is from my liege and his approaching army.” The man’s eyes scanned the crown from left to right, taking in the reaction of the people. “He demands that you swear allegiance to him or your village will be destroyed and all those that live within these walls…” His arms circled in front of his chest gesturing at the walls surrounding Cragton. “…will be killed.”

Gasps of surprise rose from the crowd, variations of “When will they arrive?”, “Kill him now!”, and “What should we do?” were being voiced by all types of people. ‘The next five minutes may decide the fate of all these people.’ Tharetes thought. ‘Someone strong must step forward to lead this crowd before someone excitable, or worse yet a coward, grabs a hold of this mob.’

“The army will arrive in two years time, I must have your answer before I depart in three days. If I do not return to my liege then your village will be destroyed.”

The crowd was again taken aback, but this time instead of shouts, the nervous glances at neighbors were all that could be seen. “Two years? Is he serious? Does he really expect to surrender to an army that won’t be her for two years?” The old man said as he turned to look at the young man with the bloodshot eyes. “What the…” the man exclaimed as he realized that he wasn’t talking to anybody anymore, the young man was gone. Turning around to look down the street he saw the young man walking the other way out of down, his head turned down towards the road as though he was deep in thought.

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“Well,” Answered the bearded man, “someone’s here and apparently he says that there is an army heading this way.”

“What’s going on here?” Someone shouted from the crowd.

“Yes!” Someone else shouted from the crown. “Why are we waiting here? Why doesn’t anyone tell us what’s happening?”

As Tharetes examined the crowd he could feel their agitation growing like a wave approaching the shore. They were invested in this meeting, if an army truly was marching on Cragton, it might mean their lives and the lives of their families. For Tharetes it simply meant another trip down the road, a trip he would have made regardless of any army, although now his direction was chosen for him. Another one of the problems of being tied town to one place or to a family.

A guardsman walked out onto the town gate and began gesturing for the crowd to be quiet. The guardsman wore a leather cuirass that had been dyed red, differentiating him from the other guardsmen that Tharetes had met in Cragton, both on and off the card table. “Please everyone, please, please!” The guardsman’s voice rose to almost a full shout before the congregation before him fully quieted down. The man looked down at the crowd as one used to giving orders to others would, but the slow sway of his body from left to right showed Tharetes that he struggled to maintain the calm demeanor that he stove to project.

‘The captain of the guards in Cragton, aside from drunken brawls at the inn this may be the first test of your mettle.’

“Please, an emissary has arrived…”

‘Why does he pause?’

“From an army that is apparently approaching Cragton. He has come to deliver us an ultimatum.”

A man stepped out from the guard tower to stand beside the captain of the guards. The crowd froze momentarily, before eyes began glancing at their neighbors sending messaged of surprise. Tharetes expected their surprise, but what he did not count on was his own. The man’s dress was completely unfamiliar to Tharetes. It wasn’t a subtle shift from earlier fashions the addition of a headscarf in Bray Bend or the removal of a sash in the lower provinces, it was a full-scale departure. The man was dressed head to toe in woven leather. Leather dyes black, white, red, and green was woven together in a grid-like pattern that radiated colours from the center of each major body part. In almost bull’s-eye like fashion the man’s dress pulled the eye to different parts of the body in an almost dizzying effect.