The town of Kampana was a small community, home to not more than twenty families. Everyone has a role to play and a job to keep. Everyone knew each other; it was hard not to. It was home to not more than twenty families, and one big one.
It was a town of fresh starts, at least that’s what Barba had told him. It didn’t matter who you were, just who you became. Not where you came from, just that you’re now here.
So when the prince had arrived with nothing but his horse, the dirt-ridden clothes on his back, and a small sack that contained all he owned, the townsfolk looked at him with intrigue. They had guessed some things about him right, like how he’s been running away. They guessed some things wrong, like how they figured he was an orphan and a petty thief in the drabby alleys of some big city. He didn’t bother correcting them.
They didn’t know he was the prince though, and he was thankful for that. Ever since he escaped the capital, he’d been recognized a total of once. He decided some extra precautions were still necessary.
He dyed his hair black and tied it to a ponytail using a string. He kept his head down instead of up. He’d let the day’s dirt stay on his face longer. People called him Nox now too. The prince thought it close to his actual name, but not too close, and that was enough.
When he arrived, Nox, the thieving orphan boy on horseback, made his way to Corner Tavern, where Barba’s sister Betha presided.
“You steal the horse?” Betha had asked.
The prince shook his head. “Someone gave it to me.”
“Right.” Betha smiled, not looking too convinced. “Barba does have it true; I need a new hand. My previous one left me, abruptly for that matter. Rude, if you ask me.” She rolled her eyes. “You look strong enough to do the job, not that you’d need much strength filling mugs and dragging off drunks. Well, perhaps it would depend on the drunk.”
And so it was that the prince had become the tavern’s tender. A day passed and then a week, and then one month, then another, and then three.
Every night, the prince would sleep in the supply room, beside the casks and kegs, and the rats and roaches. The rats were the worst of them. The silver dagger the kap had given him offered the prince a bit of relief, but the rats were fast. Not as fast as Kalen, though.
Every day he’d wake with a headache, the same ones that have nagged him ever since.
Betha nagged him worse. Most nights, the prince didn’t have the chance to breathe. “HE ASKED FOR WINE, NOT ALE!”
“WHY IS THE HORSE SHIT STILL ON THE FRONT DOOR, HAVEN’T YOU SCOOPED IT UP YET?!?”
“THAT MAN IS PUKING, GET A BUCKET!”
“I SAID WINE, THIS IS STILL ALE!”
“WHY ARE YOUR FINGERS DIRTY, YOU SCOOPED IT UP WITH YOUR BARE HANDS?!?”
“THE DRUNK IS NOW ROLLING, GET HIM UP!”
“THE DRUNK IS NOW SHITTING ON THE FRONT DOOR, SCOOP IT UP!!”
“NO, NOT WITH YOUR HANDS!!!”
“THIS IS STILL NOT WINE!!” and on it went.
Tonight, Betha was gone, that explained the tavern’s unusual calmness. She took a leave to get some family affairs in order. The prince was in charge. The prince thought that feeling familiar.
Leah, the town singer, took the platform. She wore a thin and silky white dress and held nothing but a half-finished bottle of ale. Or was it wine?
She held that, and the attention of everyone in the tavern. Leah usually had that effect on people, especially when she started to sing.
♪ For whom does the bell toll? ♪
The town has a bell tower in the middle of its plaza, right outside the Corner Tavern. The bell was large, rusty, and ancient. Not once has the prince heard it ring. But it remained there, at the town’s center, domineering over the townsfolk. It’s been told that the bell only rings in times of danger, when the town would be attacked by rogues or bandits—a grave warning for battle. It was used in times of war too, as a distress signal. Kampana was far too distant to the main roads these days to be looted or assailed, and times of war were long past.
The last time the bell rung, there were three kings. Now, there is only one.
The bell hasn’t rung in fifteen years.
Three men entered the tavern. The prince had never seen them before. Leah noticed them too, but she continued singing.
♪ Only for me and my banished soul ♪
They sat on three adjacent stools in front of the bar, all wearing clothes of hard leather, weather-beaten and damaged. The one on the right had a darkening bruise on his cheek and one swollen eye. He tried to hide it with his hand. The one on the middle was slim and wore a cropped straw hat that bobbed as he moved. The one on the left smiled and showed off a front tooth that was much, much yellower than the rest.
Yellow Tooth called to the prince. “Oi boy! Give us an order of ale for each of us, will ya?” He dropped three pieces of silver on the bar top.
♪ Save me, my star dethroned ♪
The prince smiled and took the coins. He tried not to notice the dried blood that stained their edges as he filled the tankards with ale. Not wine.
The prince wished he had Dawnstrider. But it was gone now. His sword was in Kalen’s possession. She wielded it well, no doubt. He wondered where she was. If she was still riding her horse, galloping towards the meek horizon. Perhaps losing the sword was a gift. Dawnstrider bore the royal sigil on its pommel, and that symbol could be more of a curse than a blessing for a boy wanting to escape. A curse the kap had been more than happy to bear.
Nox set the three tankards on the bar top.
♪ Light a fire so I shan’t go cold ♪
Leah’s voice wisped through the air, making the flame under the cobblestone cove by the far side of the tavern flicker. The wind blew a stiff chill in the dark of night. Leah held her bottle tightly.
The three men sat in silence, each of them drinking to their own pace. They came from trouble. It showed. Did they come for trouble too? It didn’t matter where they came from, just that they’re now here. What were they here for?
There were about twenty people inside the tavern, excluding the three strangers. Everyone in town knew each other; it was hard not to. The townsfolk stole glances at the strangers; they stole glances at Nox too. He figured they thought it’d be better if Betha were here instead. Maybe it would be.
But Betha wasn’t here, though she did leave the prince with a gift. Nox ran his hands over the rough wooden club that was neatly hidden under the bar counter. Betha called it The Pacifier.
It wasn’t Dawnstrider, but it was better than a steel dagger that’s killed nothing more than scampering rats.
♪ For whom does the bell toll? ♪
“Oi boy!” shouted Yellow Tooth. “You are a boy, aren’t you?”
Slim elbowed him. “He’s a boy of course.”
“No, he’s not.” Yellow Tooth took a gulp of ale. “He’s a lil’ girlie.”
The prince stared at Yellow Tooth’s yellow tooth.
Yellow Tooth’s voice sounded like falling rubble. “What are you looking at?”
♪ The sky is silent for us, or so it goes ♪
Slowly, the townsfolk turned to the three men at the bar. Adam and Garret and Garth and Harry and Craig. They all set their tankards down and began to stand. The prince waived them off. The outsiders didn’t seem to notice. “You,” Nox said. “I’m looking at you.”
Slim sat straight. “See? Hear his voice? He’s a boy now, yeah?” The one with a swollen eye ran a finger around the cusp of his tankard.
“Damned he’s a boy.” Yellow Tooth took another gulp. “Maybe he’s one of them queer fellows.”
♪ Nowhere do these lies unfold ♪
The townsfolk were not unaccustomed to trouble. The men and women in the town of Kampana were strong. Adam, Garret, Garth, Harry, Craig. One’s a smith and one’s a farmer. Two were fishermen, and one’s a mason. When the bell rings, they answer its call. Everyone knew each other; it was hard not to. But they didn’t know these three men. Neither did the prince. Do they know me? Equinox bit his lip. The man is clearly drunk, he thought. He was already drunk even before he got to the tavern.
“He doesn’t speak.” Swollen Eye laughed. “Those queer ones never speak.”
Yellow Tooth slammed his tankard down. “Eh? Those queer ones always speak. They can’t stop speaking if you be concerning me. Their mouths run and run and run and run and—”
“Oh your mouth runs,” Slim said. “Maybe you’re the queer one.”
♪ In morning, victory fore— ♪
KAG! Yellow Tooth brought both his fists down hard on the bar top, slightly cracking the wood. He stood. “Oh, I’m the queer one?”
“Yeah.” Slim took a tiny sip. He never bothered to look. “Might be you are.”
Yellow Tooth slapped the straw hat off of Slim’s head and grabbed the collar of his shirt, raising him off the ground. “I could smack you and your neck will snap.”
The prince held the grip of the wooden club. Swollen Eye laughed.
Slim spat on Yellow Tooth’s face.
“YOU QUEER LITTLE—” He geared a punch to Slim’s face, but the prince was quicker to move. Nox swung The Pacifier upwards and clocked Yellow Tooth on the jaw. His neck snapped back, and a lone tooth flew from his mouth. The yellowest one.
No Tooth fell unconscious on the floor, his drool dripping on the wooden boards. The prince took a breath and lunged over the bar top.
He felt the townsfolks’ eyes baring at him. Everyone knew each other. They knew Nox could defend himself. They’ve known that for a while. They didn’t know much, but at least they knew that.
“You small miserable queer little shit.” Swollen Eye dropped his tankard and made a grab for the prince. He was much larger than Nox. He was also much burlier. The prince figured he was much faster, though. But he’d been caught flatfooted, and his back was turned.
He should never have had his back turned.
Then a bottle darted through the air, inches over Nox’s shoulder. The prince heard the sound of glass shattering. Swollen Eye staggered back to his stool.
Adam, Garret, Garth, Harry, Craig, who was it that saved me?
On the platform, Leah held out an outstretched hand. The bottle of ale she had was now gone, broken to a thousand pieces. He mouthed ‘thank you’. She gave him a curt nod.
A glass shard drew blood on the brow above Swollen Eye’s good eye. Before the end of the night, he’d have two swollen eyes, and no good ones. “Ah this isn’t worth it.” He wiped his blood with his hand and stormed out of the tavern.
“And you?” The prince glared at Slim, who was standing timidly, holding his tankard with two hands. He tried to hide his shaking feet behind the stools.
“I meant no harm, truly. Yeah?” he said. “They weren’t really my friends. Not in truth, no. I just met them a few days ago… o—on the road. Yes.”
The prince walked on over back to his place behind the bar. “Sit.” Slim placed his straw hat on the bar top. Long and deep scars lined Slim’s scalp. One scar was deeper than the rest, the one on the crown of his head. How could he have survived that? the prince thought.
Slim’s tankard was empty, so Nox took it and moved to fill it with another round of ale.
“Better if it’s water,” Slim said. “I’d rather have water.”
“We’re out of water.” The town’s been running low on water for the past week. Two months ago, the river went dry. It’s been dry ever since.
Slim took a piece of silver out of his pocket. “Then ale is fine, I g-guess.” He handed the coin to the prince. Nox refused it. The man looked like he’s been through enough for tonight.
The prince’s hands trembled slightly. That made it hard to cleanly get the ale down to the tankard. He steadied himself before facing the outsider again.
Slim spoke. “But no water, eh? I rode past a dam going here, yeah. F-full of water, that was. What are d-dams for anyway?”
No Tooth groaned meekly on the ground. No one paid him any mind. Except for Leah, who stepped over him on her way to the bar. She sat, leaving one stool between her and Slim. “What was that, Nox?”
He shrugged, trying to muster up some fake confidence. “Just the usual, I guess.”
“No.” She had a weird accent that curled her ‘o’s. “If Betha hears about this—”
“And she will.”
“And she will, yes. She’ll ask some questions. Questions—”
“That I, no doubt, will not have the answers to.” The prince pressed his lips. “Luckily, we have someone who does.” He faced Slim.
Leah asked the question for them. “Why are you here?”
Slim looked at the prince, then at Leah. He then took a swig of ale, hoping it was water. “M-my son…” he said. He set his tankard down and clasped his hands together on the bar top. “… my son was queer.”
Leah had none of it. “What does that have to do with—"
“A-and he was killed.” Slim swallowed. The prince heard his saliva creep down his throat. “Killed because he was q-queer. Stoned, that’s what it was…yeah. They didn’t even want to touch him. Infectious, they said. It was a disease.” He made a disgusted face. “They didn’t want to touch him. That’s why they used stones.” He closed his eyes. “I still remember that day. I still do. I remember how the rocks fell. I remember how his face caved in. I remember how he screamed, how he asked for help.
“No one helped him... I remember hands. I remember hands on me. I don’t remember how many. No one helped him. I tried… but the hands...”
He stood. He wasn’t shaking anymore. “I tried and I failed. And now my son was queer. Was, not is. Was.” He walked to No Tooth and lifted his leg. He plunged his foot straight to No Tooth’s stomach. No Tooth wheezed, and Slim stepped back and kicked him on the temple with force.
The prince felt Leah wince.
Slim faced them. “I remember those hands. Soldiers, they were. Armed in plate and mail and steel. I had nothing. They had a gold sun emblazoned on their chests.”
The royal sigil. My sigil. “And them?” the prince asked. “They did nothing too?”
Slim flashed an empty smirk. “Their hands, they held me. It was them who held me. They held me. They did enough. Their hands. They killed my boy. He was my boy. Was, not is. Was.” He sat back down. “A revolution is coming. I don’t believe in the Iron Prince. Not truly, no. But I figure he’d be much better than that golden prince we have right now, yeah? The golden prince who’s gone. Probably dead if not dying. And the golden king with his golden soldiers and their red hands.”
Leah tapped the bar top lightly with her fingers. “You’re a sellsword.”
Slim nodded. “Aye, I am,” he answered. “So when iron pays silver for the head of a golden man, I come. A royal party draws near, it’s been told. It’s been told they arrive here tonight, this very night. Led by none other than the royal swordmaster.” He blinked. “Aye, but I speak too much, yeah? This ale… it must be. Wait, this isn’t ale.”
The tavern disappeared. Everything else did, except for the prince and the bar top. He held it for balance. Vex is here. He’s come for something; not for me. The royal swordmaster…Vex is here, he’s close, and someone wants him dead.
A royal party would be far from discreet. The royal army prides itself in strength, not stealth, as suits the king’s own temperament. It would be large. Strength in numbers, that’s where the soldiers found comfort. But the town couldn’t possibly hold an army, even a small one. Vex would know this. Kampana can barely provide water for twenty families. What more for twenty more?
Vex would need a place where the land would be safe. Where it would be secure and protected. Where the land would be remembered but wouldn’t be a disturbance. Where the land…
“Has water.” Nox was back in the tavern.
Two months ago, the river went dry. It’s been dry ever since.
The sounds of men clanking their tankards together spanned the air. He smelled the booze and spit and sweat. But there was no music. The singer sat ahead of him, silent and observant.
“What?” she asked.
“You asked me earlier,” the prince told Slim. “What dams are for. They’re there so they could provide water when we need it to.”
Outside, birds flew and cawed. The noise of the tavern stopped for the beating of bird wings.
GONG! GONG! GONG! GONG!
All the people stood. Their seats scratched against the floorboards.
“The bell is ringing” Leah held the prince’s arm. “The bell is ringing.”
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