me?"
"No," said Mazael. Though he supposed he looked the part of the villainous robber. He had slept outside, after all, and he hadn't bathed for a while. "Are you going to rob me?"
The boy drew himself up, affronted. "I most certainly shall not! Petty brigandage is a crime and it is...it is beneath me!"
"Good to know," said Mazael. "Though that doesn't explain why you're running around the woods by yourself."
"I am trying," said the boy, "to get away from robbers."
"Indeed," said Mazael, intrigued. That greathelm sigil was the badge of a noble house of Knightreach, though Mazael could not remember which one. Which meant the boy was a squire in service to a knight of that house. And if the boy was running around the woods by himself, his knight had encountered some misfortune.
And rescuing a knight often meant a reward.
"But by fleeing the robbers," said the boy, "I fear I have only found another one."
Mazael made a show of sheathing his sword. "You have not. I am no highwayman. My name is Sir Mazael Cravenlock."
The boy frowned. "You are a knight, sir? You..."
"I hardly look the part, I know," said Mazael, "but I have spent the last six years wandering from one corner of the realm to another, fighting as it pleases me."
"As a robber knight, perhaps?" said the boy.
Mazael sighed. "I'll say this plainly, boy. I am no thief, and while perhaps I enjoy fighting a bit too much, I’ve never robbed a man. If you want nothing to do with me, I'll ride on. But if you want my help, you'll have it...and I will teach those robbers of yours to fear."
He gave his horse a gentle tap, urging the beast forward, and walked past the boy.
"Wait," said the boy. "Sir Mazael, wait!"
Mazael turned his horse.
"It seems I have little choice but to trust you, sir," said the boy, "for I might not reach the gates of Knightport as I planned." He took a deep breath. "My name is Gerald Roland."
"Gerald Roland," said Mazael, and his eyes widened. "Wait. A son of Lord Malden Roland?" Gerald nodded. "The liege lord of Knightreach?" Gerald nodded once more. "So why the devil is a son of Malden Roland blundering around the woods by himself?"
"I was traveling with my father and his retainers to Knightport," said Gerald. "Bandits infest the hills around Knightport..."
"Yes, I noticed," said Mazael.
"And my lord father wished to chastise Lord Randerly for his lack of action," said Gerald. "But bandits fell upon us a few miles east of here and scattered our men. I fear the brigands took my father captive. He told me to run to Knightport for aid...and here I am."
Mazael scratched at his jaw. "Just as well you didn't make it to Knightport."
"Why not?" said Gerald, folding his arms over his chest. "Lord Randerly is my father's vassal, sworn to obey him."
"And Lord Randerly's officers are sworn to obey him," said Mazael, "but half of them work with the robbers anyway. If you'd made it to Knightport alone, they would have taken you for ransom. Which I assume is why they took your father captive." He laughed.
"Do you find our predicament funny, sir?" said Gerald, affronted.
"It's bold," said Mazael. "Holding the liege lord of Knightreach for ransom. The bandits will end as either very rich men, or as heads rotting atop spears. Or they'll make a mistake and kill Lord Malden, and then they'll end as heads atop spears."
"What...what do you suggest we do, sir?" said Gerald. For a moment the arrogant hauteur drained away, leaving only sick terror. Mazael felt a touch of sympathy for the boy.
"The first thing," said Mazael, "is to find your father. You said they fell on you about three miles east of here?" Gerald nodded. "There's a nest of robbers near the road there, led by a rogue named Waller. I'll wager they took your father."
"And then?" said Gerald.
"And then," said Mazael, "we wait until night, sneak into their camp, and make off with your father."
"But that's..." began Gerald.
A flicker of motion caught Mazael's eye,
"No," said Mazael. Though he supposed he looked the part of the villainous robber. He had slept outside, after all, and he hadn't bathed for a while. "Are you going to rob me?"
The boy drew himself up, affronted. "I most certainly shall not! Petty brigandage is a crime and it is...it is beneath me!"
"Good to know," said Mazael. "Though that doesn't explain why you're running around the woods by yourself."
"I am trying," said the boy, "to get away from robbers."
"Indeed," said Mazael, intrigued. That greathelm sigil was the badge of a noble house of Knightreach, though Mazael could not remember which one. Which meant the boy was a squire in service to a knight of that house. And if the boy was running around the woods by himself, his knight had encountered some misfortune.
And rescuing a knight often meant a reward.
"But by fleeing the robbers," said the boy, "I fear I have only found another one."
Mazael made a show of sheathing his sword. "You have not. I am no highwayman. My name is Sir Mazael Cravenlock."
The boy frowned. "You are a knight, sir? You..."
"I hardly look the part, I know," said Mazael, "but I have spent the last six years wandering from one corner of the realm to another, fighting as it pleases me."
"As a robber knight, perhaps?" said the boy.
Mazael sighed. "I'll say this plainly, boy. I am no thief, and while perhaps I enjoy fighting a bit too much, I’ve never robbed a man. If you want nothing to do with me, I'll ride on. But if you want my help, you'll have it...and I will teach those robbers of yours to fear."
He gave his horse a gentle tap, urging the beast forward, and walked past the boy.
"Wait," said the boy. "Sir Mazael, wait!"
Mazael turned his horse.
"It seems I have little choice but to trust you, sir," said the boy, "for I might not reach the gates of Knightport as I planned." He took a deep breath. "My name is Gerald Roland."
"Gerald Roland," said Mazael, and his eyes widened. "Wait. A son of Lord Malden Roland?" Gerald nodded. "The liege lord of Knightreach?" Gerald nodded once more. "So why the devil is a son of Malden Roland blundering around the woods by himself?"
"I was traveling with my father and his retainers to Knightport," said Gerald. "Bandits infest the hills around Knightport..."
"Yes, I noticed," said Mazael.
"And my lord father wished to chastise Lord Randerly for his lack of action," said Gerald. "But bandits fell upon us a few miles east of here and scattered our men. I fear the brigands took my father captive. He told me to run to Knightport for aid...and here I am."
Mazael scratched at his jaw. "Just as well you didn't make it to Knightport."
"Why not?" said Gerald, folding his arms over his chest. "Lord Randerly is my father's vassal, sworn to obey him."
"And Lord Randerly's officers are sworn to obey him," said Mazael, "but half of them work with the robbers anyway. If you'd made it to Knightport alone, they would have taken you for ransom. Which I assume is why they took your father captive." He laughed.
"Do you find our predicament funny, sir?" said Gerald, affronted.
"It's bold," said Mazael. "Holding the liege lord of Knightreach for ransom. The bandits will end as either very rich men, or as heads rotting atop spears. Or they'll make a mistake and kill Lord Malden, and then they'll end as heads atop spears."
"What...what do you suggest we do, sir?" said Gerald. For a moment the arrogant hauteur drained away, leaving only sick terror. Mazael felt a touch of sympathy for the boy.
"The first thing," said Mazael, "is to find your father. You said they fell on you about three miles east of here?" Gerald nodded. "There's a nest of robbers near the road there, led by a rogue named Waller. I'll wager they took your father."
"And then?" said Gerald.
"And then," said Mazael, "we wait until night, sneak into their camp, and make off with your father."
"But that's..." began Gerald.
A flicker of motion caught Mazael's eye,
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