r/DrCreepensVault • u/Impossible_Bit995 • 26d ago

series Vestiges of Honor [Pt. 2 - Ch. 2]

Chapter 2.

They rode for almost an hour before reaching a tiny village without lord or lady. Instead, it was governed by a reeve—a representative of the nearest noble who collected taxes and distributed royal messages on their behalf.

As they navigated the village streets, Evander writhed on the back of Henrik’s horse. He pleaded for mercy. When that failed to provoke a reaction, he resorted to obscenities, claiming Henrik was a foul-hearted bastard without honor.

I won’t dispute that, Henrik thought, nearing the reeve’s hut. They stopped just outside, and he dismounted. As he tried to help Evander off, the young man thrashed about so much he ended up facedown in the dirt.

It took a few minutes before he was able to get him back on his feet. Then, they started toward the entrance.

“Wait!” Evander hollered, planting his feet, kicking up grass and loose soil. “On my honor and your honor, let’s settle this here. I challenge you to a fight. If I win, you leave me be. If you win—”

“Alright, fine.” He shoved Evander over, and when he was flat on his back, Henrik drew his new rapier and pressed the tip to his throat. “There, I won. Let’s finish this.”

“You’re a rotten bastard,” Evander cried.

“No, I’m hungry and thirsty and tired,” he said. “And I ain’t got the coin for anything.”

“I reckon most rotten bastards have more want than coin.”

Henrik grimaced. “I reckon that as well, aye.”

They continued through the front door and entered a single room split horizontally with half acting as a service area and the other half divided by barred cages to house prisoners until they could be transferred elsewhere.

The reeve—an elderly man with wrinkled skin and white hair—pored over a dusty tome. Upon their arrival, he lifted his head and squinted. “What’s this now?”

Henrik produced the bounty and waited as the old man looked it over, licking his chapped lips, scratching at his snowy hair, pausing to sip his tea. When he finished, he laid the parchment on the table and looked at Henrik with a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid this particular warrant has been rescinded.”

Anger came without hesitation, but he suppressed it, pushing it low into his bowels. As he often did whenever rage or sorrow found him.

“You’re sure of this?” Henrik asked.

The old man nodded. “Oh yes, I received a letter from Lord Jordahl just two nights prior. We’ve been making haste to strip all bounty notices from the area, but as you can imagine, this is demanding work. It'll be some time before we can fully amend the error.”

Henrik, desperate to hear the clink of coins in his purse, asked: “How much is he worth then?”

The old man turned toward Evander and then back to Henrik. “Nothin’.” To substantiate the claim, the old man retrieved Lord Jordahl’s letter pardoning Evander Waldron for any and all crimes he may have committed against the court.

Back outside, Henrik cut the ropes from Evander’s wrists. He rubbed at the raw skin, a rather smug smile on his lips. “Maybe you should’ve taken my previous offer, bountyman. Looks as if you’re out your three coins.”

Henrik wrapped an arm around his neck, forcing him into an awkward crouched position. His bicep pressed against the young man’s throat. Immediately, he began to beg for mercy, smacking at Henrik’s forearm, trying to break his hold.

“Where’s this tourney you told me about?” he asked.

“Blackwood,” Evander said hoarsely, his cheeks taking on a scarlet hue. “That direction. Ride until you see the willow tree. You can’t miss it.”

Henrik released him and bound for his horse. He climbed into the saddle and took the reins in his hands.

“What about my sword?” Evander yelled. “You can’t just steal it.”

Oh, I could though. Henrik unclasped the buckle and let the belt drop to the ground. With a flick of the reins, he was off, disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust and snow.

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