Chapter 1: The Good Knights of Sabrynn
A young child sat near the fence-post, peering off to the road ahead. He wore an old, ragged military jacket, though it was to big for him. Nearby sat another child. This child was obviously not a human one. With his pale, tough skin, crest of tiny horns adorning his drawn back hairline, and his substantial height, he could only be a Tarkell. The two sat in silence, the Tarkell turned his gaze to his friend, "Tobias..." he said, his voice small despite his size, "are you surehe's coming back today?" Tobias kept his gaze on the path.
"He has to Roth," he paused, to fight back the doubt, "The War is over, he has to be back." He sat in vain, his father had been killed, bled out in the arms of a Caster who fought deperately to keep him alive. Tobias would find out 2 months later. But even before than his rage had grown. No sadness, no regret, just anger. Pure anger.
16 years later
Tobias sat up against the fence-post, half asleep, half drunk, half somthing else. He had been there for 2 hours before Rothiss came to check on him, his shadow swallowed Tobias whole. He stirred slightly, "Rothy?" he stammered, "Sat, you?"
The Tarkell looked at him with a slight grin, "You look comfortable," Rothiss mocked.
Tobias sat up slightly, pushing the widebrim of his hat up, "Yeah, dirt is almost as soft as Nahossian silk if your drunk enough," he chuckled.
Rothiss sat beside him, "And what are we waiting for today?"
" Again?" Rothiss said with undisguised sarcasm.
"Mmmmmmhhmmm," He nodded, "say, do me a favor and get me my case."
"Great, another one of these days," Rothiss sighed as he walked back to the town in which the fence surrounded. Tobias' thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Warsteeds and wagon wheels. The first hint of motion started at the far end of the path. Tobias stood and patted the dirt from the back of his duster. He opened the front to check the conents of his pockets. Six knives, a short sword, and an empty holster. Perfect.
The Warsteed steps grew closer as Tobias stepped forward the greet them. Quickly he took stock of the group that traveled with the steeds: Six knights all armed with long swords and an automatic rifle and a full suit of cast steel armor, two Warsteeds and in the cart sat a noble. This outta be interesting,he thought. The caravan halted in front of him, and hastily the knights made a formation around the cart. The noble stepped out, carrying a few sheets of parchment. The nobles rodes were not as finely decorated ashe hadexpected, guess even nobles are losing money these days. The noble strutted up to Tobias with an almost rude sense of authority.
"Can I help you, Good Sir?" Tobias inquired, with a signiture sense sarcasm. The noble held the papers up to his eyes and cleared his throat,
"By the laws of the Good King Sabrynn, the small village of Harsopp is not able to pay the taxes to which it has agreed, therefore the money must be given directly to the collecting agent, me, or the land shall be reclaimed directly by them," he motioned to the knights. The nobles eyes then turned directly to the approaching Tarkell, who trodded slowly and carried a small case. Tobias turned to Rothiss and closed the distance between them, he turned his head back to the noble,
"One moment, Sir." He said dryly. The noble looked back at the knights, who shrugged at the obvious disrespect. Tobias opened the case with a small key around his neck, making sure to have his back to the caravan.
"That had better be the Good King's money," reinforced the noble. Tobias lifted the contents of the case, feeling it's weight in his hand. It was a work of art, the crafing of the barrel, the etching on the cylinder, right down to the engraving on the handle; War does not judge.
"Good Sir," Tobias finally responded, maing sure to meet Rothiss' gaze as if to say SHOWTIME, "While I don't have your money, I do have a good payment for your request."
"I WILL have the money, NOW!!!" screamed the noble. But he descended into silence as Tobias turned around,a revolver meeting his gaze.
"How about a bullet?" He asked. All sarcasm and humor left his voice in those four words. The noble grew pale and frightened backing towards the cart slowly. The knights all rallied, some drawing swords, others readying their rifles. Tobias' gaze shifted back to the Rothiss' and he gave a slight nod. "Do it," he whispered.