In the near ends, lied some huts, their roofs made of dried reeds and their walls caked with sand. A few thin, scrappy dogs wandered about, yapping and nipping at one another as they scavenged for food scraps.
The man sat hunched over a wooden table, his gaunt face illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle. Before him lay a platter of grilled meat, still sizzling from the coals, and a bowl of boiled beans. He tore into the meat with a savage hunger, his teeth tearing off chunks of flesh as he chewed. The juices ran down his chin and dripped onto the table, but he didn't care. It had been days since he'd eaten anything substantial, and the food was a welcome respite from his near-starvation.
Beside him, sat the alderman, smoking a pipe. A few villagers, all hooded, darted between the huts, busy hauling something. But the man paid them no mind. His only concern was the food in front of him.
"How does the food taste?" asked Gerenthor.
"Can't complain" the man nodded.
"You know I haven't still caught your name."
"The name's Brynden."
"Brynden? Thats a southern name!"
"Yes, my grandfather crossed the border into the valley during the War."
"The war of the burning cross?"
"Aye" Brynden continued to munch on his food.
Gerenthor got up, refilling his pipe and also bringing out a parchment from one of his jerkin's pocket.
"You never did ask how I knew of your exile, kingslayer" Gerenthor shined his famous smile.
Brynden looked up, his mouth full of food, his munching slowing down.
"Read it" Gerenthor slid the parchment on the table
Brynden picked up the writ in his hand, its official seal bearing the sigil of one of the northern kingdoms.
He read it, his eyes tracing over each letter as if hoping to find something.
"Oh daft it, have you forgotten how to read. Its just few words"
Gerenthor snatched the writ and read it out aloud :
"Lord Brynden Stormblade, accused of regicide, the murder of his holy majesty, and found guilty in absentia."
Brynden's eyes shined.
"Who are you?" he asked while swallowing the food.
Gerenthor didnt answer, instead he asked another question
"Why are you here Brynden? How did you find this village?"
"They left me just at the borders of the valley. There was no way I could have gone back, with bandits laying here and there about. I decided to press on towards east and well I got lost"
"Lost?" Gerenthor smirked a bit "You havent got lost, Ser Stormblade. Oh you are in the right place quite well. The reason i ask you this question is to make sure that you know very well, that it wasnt you or the King's men who made you wander into my village. It was me."
"What do you mean ?"
"We will get to that. First tell me, did you really kill the king? If you say no, I wont believe you. Afterall, there were eye witnesses, wasnt there ? The queen herself testified along with the King's brother. "
"So you want me to say yes?"
"I want you to say the truth"
A moment of silence passed in the room. The candlelight flickering, smoky clouds of the pipe streaming, and the smell of dragonweed filling the room.
"I didnt kill him"
"Was it the queen? Or his brother? There was no heir to the throne so by holy law, the brother would get the throne and I have heard rumours that she … "
"Yes she is fucking Lord Rickes, but no she didnt kill her husband. He died, by himself"
"By himself?"
Gerenthor released a thick cloud of smoke and left the now extinguished pipe on the table.
"So its true. Even though the queen claim its poison, and autopsy isnt allowed on royal corpses, I have information that it was his heart."
Gerenthor came close towards Brynden
"I also know that the king was tumescent, when he died"
"Tum .. what? "
"Engorged. He was aroused."
Brynden kept the spoon on the table, he was done eating.
"So the king died fucking the queen, thats what you mean ?" asked Brendyn
"Oh Lord Commander, is that what you make of it? I know you were present in the room aswell so that … "
"You know i am a commander?"
"Well you are quite famous. You single-handedly won the seven year war, didnt you ?" Gerenthor stood up. "You have had quite a fall from grace, from being a war hero to now having a brand on your neck, which makes you the lowest of the scum, in these lands."
"We are not in the north, their laws dont bother me."
"It should, because even if you have tasted the desert sand and faced the desert winds, you havent had the pleasure of unraveling the mysteries of the orient. The east still lies far away and to get there, you will need help."
Gerenthor started pacing along the room as he relit his pipe
"So what do I do now? " asked brendyn
"As I said before, we might share some common cause. Before I thought you actually killed the king, but after hearing how much of a patriot you are … " he smirked.
"I am a patriot aswell, Ser Brendyn, and i have made many sacrifices for the kingdom aswell."
"Who are you?"
"The question is, who are you? You no longer are a lord or a commander of an army. You lack an identity and its time for you to find one"
Gerenthor lifted the candle from the table and helped Brendyn up. The sun has started to set, and Twilight was dawning upon them.