Spymaster. The word almost made him smile.
Only someone with a massive ego would ever give themselves that title. Or someone with an equally pretentious perception of their importance would give that title to those who were supposed to serve them. Tryam had discovered that it was hard to avoid developing an over-inflated ego when so many who gave themselves lofty titles bowed and scraped when they had an audience with him.
The only thing that kept his feet firmly on the ground was that he knew precisely what they were saying and doing when they thought he couldn't hear them.
Elric stood in the corner, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed as he studied the smaller man in front of the emperor. Despite the visitor’s appearance, he had no illusions and knew exactly what the self-styled spymaster was capable of. Skin as thin as parchment paper, a hooked nose, and a bald head distracted the eye from his body which was lean as a whip, and the man had a skill for assassination unlike any other.
The young emperor could understand his guard captain's trepidation at allowing someone like Hassim so close to him, but even in a world of shadows, trust was needed. Sometimes, it was even required.
"Unlike what some legends might state, I don't have all the time in the world," he said and motioned for the man to sit. "Tell me what you know."
"Knowledge is my business, and I know many things."
"Of course. Which means you should know what knowledge I am interested in hearing, whether I know it or not."
"Well…I know you have an interest in the redheaded barbarian known as Skharr and I have heard a great many whispers of him regarding his time in Verenvan."
The emperor leaned back in his seat with a frown. He did have an interest in the warrior, and not only because he owed him his current position on the throne.
"Go on."
"Whispers told me of certain criminal elements of great power that the barbarian angered. Their word spoke of a great deal of coin to be paid to any who could kill him."
Tryam scowled deeply. "They need to die."
"That would be difficult to accomplish, Your Grace," Hassim pointed out. "Even for you."
"Why?"
"Because they are already dead. At his hand."
"Huh." The young emperor tilted his head in speculation. "I've seen the man fight and I know what he's capable of. Even that would be beyond it."
"He was not alone. From the reports of the few who survived, he was suddenly aided by a mighty host of skilled warriors who killed all those in their path. They appeared mysteriously, as though they rose through the mist, and vanished in a similar fashion. It was…most curious."
"Curious," Elric growled. "And likely a fabrication told by men embarrassed by their defeat."
"Possibly, but that would raise more questions than it answers. Whichever the case, it is, as you say, curious."
Tryam nodded. "I would like to know more. Both of what is happening in Verenvan and what the barbarian is doing. Leave out no details this time. No mysteries and no old wives' tales. Facts."
Hassim rose from his seat and bowed gracefully. "It is my honor to serve. It shall be done."
Chapter Five
"Why are we going this way?" Brahgen asked. "It's the least used route."
"It's more direct," Skharr responded calmly.
"Aye and heads directly toward the Druums Woodland. You would have to be an utter madman to travel through those godsbedammed woods."
"You…have met me, yes?" he asked and raised an eyebrow.
The dwarf scowled and adjusted his seat on the damnable donkey. Jenny had lived up to her word, but a comfortable ride she was not. Then again, perhaps all beasts of burden were uncomfortable rides, which was why his companion had chosen to walk instead of mounting his warhorse.
"Why are we coming this way?" the youth asked. "You wouldn't choose this path unless you were looking for something specific. Death might be what you find if you choose to enter the woods."
"Not death, no," he answered. "I have some business in this region. I once thought I would find peace here so I built a small farmstead."
"You? Peace?"
"A farmer's life does have a certain…appeal to it. But it was not to be. I merely wish to see what became of the farm since I left it. This is not a common route for any journey and I likely will not travel this way again."
Brahgen tilted his head and shifted again on the saddle. Perhaps a pony would have been a better choice for their current journey, although he failed to see how having his rear end jounced continually, no matter what he rode, could be called enjoyable. He sighed and grasped the reins a little tighter as they continued and finally veered onto a fresh path once the actual road had ended. It was newly cut into the thick, lush grass that sprouted all around them.
Finally, a small farmstead appeared in the distance and he could distinguish two people standing out in the open. They had seen the two new arrivals as soon as they had appeared over the distant rise and now waited anxiously and probably not without a great deal of suspicion. Skharr was right in one thing, at least—few travelers used this route. The dwarf had a feeling that if anyone did arrive, they would immediately assume they were hostile.
The distant figures resolved into a man and a woman. Commoners both, by the looks of them, but the man carried a wood-felling ax while the woman held a hatchet, and both appeared to have prepared themselves for a fight.
Skharr raised his hands and approached them from the road. "We come in peace. There is no need to be alarmed."
The two didn't look convinced but the husband took a step forward.
"We welcome travelers with all the hospitality granted by the Lord High God Theros. Please, come."
The barbarian nodded and gestured for his companion to join him. He seemed to know what that was supposed to mean, although Brahgen didn't understand it. The dwarf reassured himself with the reminder that if Skharr knew this place as well as he said he did, there would be history there that he couldn’t expect to understand.
"You are his barbarian, yes?" the woman asked and took a step forward, although she still grasped her hatchet in a way that suggested she knew how to wield it.
"I suppose he would say that. I am called Skharr DeathEater."
"Then you are most welcome in our home, barbarian. Will you stay long?"
Skharr looked at Brahgen, who shrugged. He didn't want to show it, but his ass was sore from the saddle and time off it would be more than welcome. They'd stopped for a short while in the town but only to resupply before they had returned to the road that very day.
If his travel companion wanted to spend his time in a small farmstead, his ass would certainly thank him for the respite, however long it might be.
The warrior approached and shook the man's hand while the wife turned away and in a few moments, the sounds of children could be heard from the other side of the house.
"I wouldn't want to stay here without finding some work to do," he stated. "If you have any work that needs doing in the fields, I think there might be a way for us to pay for our keep."
The couple exchanged a look and laughed.