smithy.
Rezkin suddenly yanked on the reins and pulled his charger
to an abrupt halt as a small-man ran right in front of him. The small-man was
chasing a round ball. As soon as he caught up with the ball, he kicked it to
another small-man. Several other small-men and a few small-women were running
along side laughing and calling out for the small-man to kick the ball to one
of them.
Rezkin frowned. These small-men and -women should know
better than to run in front of a battle charger. And, none of them were
carrying weapons, nor did they take note of him or his weapons. They were
completely oblivious to their surroundings. They were currently breaking at least
half a dozen Rules , not the least of which were Rules 6 – Know
your surroundings and 24 – Never let down your guard . He could
not see how any of these small-men and -women would live to see the next year
of their lives.
He watched the small-men and -women for a few more moments,
taking special care to keep the rest of his surroundings in mind. He had never
seen other small-men, aside from himself in the looking glass when he was
young. He had not imagined there could be so many small-men together in one
place. He could see the advantage in training them in this way, though.
Learning to fight opponents of similar size would be much easier than having
them fight against big-men as he had. The small-women’s garments were
completely unacceptable, though. He could not see how draping one’s body in so
much loose material could be beneficial. Even now, as the small-women were
running, their legs were tangling in the fabric, and they had to keep their
hands occupied with holding the material out of the way. If their hands were
filled with clothing, how could they hope to carry a weapon at the ready?
Rezkin tore his attention away from the small-men and -women
as he noted that more of the villagers had stopped in their chores to stare at
him. Why were they giving him their attention? He was not moving or making any
threatening gestures. If anything, they should be paying attention to the
movements of the small-men in case they decided to launch a surprise attack
during their chaotic fury. Some of the big-men stepped in front of the
big-women, apparently prepared to serve as guards should Rezkin choose to
attack.
The warrior could not see any advantage to attacking these
people. They did not seem very threatening or hostile. If anything, they looked
terrified. The hidden women must have failed to learn their Skills since
they were apparently unable to protect themselves. Considering the fact the
grown women were wearing the same ridiculous garments as the small-women, it was
understandable that they would have difficulty during battle even if they had
the Skills .
Noting that several of the villagers were eyeing his horse,
he decided these people might think he had hostile intentions since he was the
only mounted man. Rezkin swung down from the saddle, glad for the chance to
stretch his legs. As he started toward one of the produce stands, an anxious
middle-aged man stepped forward from the crowd. He hesitated a moment,
presumably to gauge Rezkin’s reactions. Rezkin stopped and nodded to the man
politely, waiting for the man to speak, as the masters had taught him.
The stranger let out a pent up breath and said, “Good
afternoon, sir. I am Mayor Jorge. We haven’t seen you around here before. Is
there something I can do for you…sir?”
Rezkin would not have guessed this man was the mayor of the
village. He had been taught that mayors were of elevated station, often pompous
and vain. This man looked no different than any of the other villagers in his
muted, brown homespun tunic and pants. His hair was clean but disheveled, and
he looked to have worked up a sweat. Rezkin held out a hand in polite greeting
by commoner standards and replied, “I am Rezkin. It is a pleasure to meet you.
I seek only to resupply, and then I will be on my way.” Rezkin stretched
Rezkin suddenly yanked on the reins and pulled his charger
to an abrupt halt as a small-man ran right in front of him. The small-man was
chasing a round ball. As soon as he caught up with the ball, he kicked it to
another small-man. Several other small-men and a few small-women were running
along side laughing and calling out for the small-man to kick the ball to one
of them.
Rezkin frowned. These small-men and -women should know
better than to run in front of a battle charger. And, none of them were
carrying weapons, nor did they take note of him or his weapons. They were
completely oblivious to their surroundings. They were currently breaking at least
half a dozen Rules , not the least of which were Rules 6 – Know
your surroundings and 24 – Never let down your guard . He could
not see how any of these small-men and -women would live to see the next year
of their lives.
He watched the small-men and -women for a few more moments,
taking special care to keep the rest of his surroundings in mind. He had never
seen other small-men, aside from himself in the looking glass when he was
young. He had not imagined there could be so many small-men together in one
place. He could see the advantage in training them in this way, though.
Learning to fight opponents of similar size would be much easier than having
them fight against big-men as he had. The small-women’s garments were
completely unacceptable, though. He could not see how draping one’s body in so
much loose material could be beneficial. Even now, as the small-women were
running, their legs were tangling in the fabric, and they had to keep their
hands occupied with holding the material out of the way. If their hands were
filled with clothing, how could they hope to carry a weapon at the ready?
Rezkin tore his attention away from the small-men and -women
as he noted that more of the villagers had stopped in their chores to stare at
him. Why were they giving him their attention? He was not moving or making any
threatening gestures. If anything, they should be paying attention to the
movements of the small-men in case they decided to launch a surprise attack
during their chaotic fury. Some of the big-men stepped in front of the
big-women, apparently prepared to serve as guards should Rezkin choose to
attack.
The warrior could not see any advantage to attacking these
people. They did not seem very threatening or hostile. If anything, they looked
terrified. The hidden women must have failed to learn their Skills since
they were apparently unable to protect themselves. Considering the fact the
grown women were wearing the same ridiculous garments as the small-women, it was
understandable that they would have difficulty during battle even if they had
the Skills .
Noting that several of the villagers were eyeing his horse,
he decided these people might think he had hostile intentions since he was the
only mounted man. Rezkin swung down from the saddle, glad for the chance to
stretch his legs. As he started toward one of the produce stands, an anxious
middle-aged man stepped forward from the crowd. He hesitated a moment,
presumably to gauge Rezkin’s reactions. Rezkin stopped and nodded to the man
politely, waiting for the man to speak, as the masters had taught him.
The stranger let out a pent up breath and said, “Good
afternoon, sir. I am Mayor Jorge. We haven’t seen you around here before. Is
there something I can do for you…sir?”
Rezkin would not have guessed this man was the mayor of the
village. He had been taught that mayors were of elevated station, often pompous
and vain. This man looked no different than any of the other villagers in his
muted, brown homespun tunic and pants. His hair was clean but disheveled, and
he looked to have worked up a sweat. Rezkin held out a hand in polite greeting
by commoner standards and replied, “I am Rezkin. It is a pleasure to meet you.
I seek only to resupply, and then I will be on my way.” Rezkin stretched
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