“Fetch my bow and see to the wounded!”
“Yes m’Lord.” A servant answered.
Lord Orochi Omasu was thirty-eight years old. His shaved head masked a full head of hair. Pushing the butt of his hand across his cheek he wiped away speckles of blood that glistened in the afternoon sun. His colleagues had always considered him a serious man. Some had said he spent too much time in contemplation and too little time taking action. If they could see him now. As a younger man he had worked as an archivist at the royal library in Edarrow. A recent promotion found him heading research over family records for royals.
The wind blew across the dirt road tugging at the pennants attached to his caravan. The handful of vassals, mercenaries, and his personal bodyguard were preparing to get underway again.
“Lord, what shall we do with the bodies?” Asked a mountain of a man in a tight fitting coat-of-plates.
“Leave them, the carrion eaters will warn other travelers of the adversity in this area.” Omasu answered still gazing out over the wetted plain.
It had been a year since he officially took on his current quest, though there had been several months of research along the road that were not strictly related. In his satchel he carried the transcripts of several meetings involving emissaries from Petremere. The Elvin enclave had spent several months in the capital. Friendly relations had foster hope that border relations would improve and losses could be reduced in the southern reaches of the province, though in truth the real threat came from bandits in the foothills.
The enclave had planned to stay in the capital city until the end of summer. Then for reasons undisclosed, the female emissary and her retainers departed without ceremony. The entire incident was swept under the rug and quickly passed from conversation at court without further comment. The remaining members of the Elven envoy finished out the summer.
Curious about the incident since it occurred and now having full access to the records, Omasu combed through the pages. What he found there led him to believe there had been relations between the royals and the visiting Elven woman.
Omasu returned to the caravan and mounted his steed. A vassal handed him his bow, which he returned to the scabbard attached to his saddle. The attack had come within sight of the trading city of Ki’Ger. The western approach was shielded by mountains. He had been informed by freighters in Hennersbridge that they would enter the city through a toll tunnel through the mountain. Omasu thought he could make out the entrance even at this distance.
It had been years since the encounter with the Elven envoy and the offspring of the tryst would be fifteen or sixteen by now. A royal, even a bastard, was of special interest, especially now. This town would be that last place he would be able to reach before winter set in and deterred further travel into the north.
Barring further encounters with local wildlife the caravan would reach the city by nightfall. He had heard that many of the traditions of the Three Kingdoms were observed in the trade town. Perhaps a proper Ryokan would be available to unwind before his search continued.
“Ho! Let us get underway.” Said Omasu.
The large Kokorese man bellowed a command to the group and the caravan returned to its previous pace.
The sun retreated in the west as they entered the tunnel and the free city Of Ki’Ger.
A bath and a good night’s sleep would be enough refreshment to continue his search.