It had been a long week for Garret, made longer by the fact that he’d decided to leave the orphanage in the hands of a few good women from the nearby village and took his son with him on this job. He normally wouldn’t have, since Argent was untrained in little more than defensive fighting, but the party he’d been contracted into needed a sixth member. With no one else to turn to, he’d given into the boy’s fancies and allowed him to be the final recruit.
Thankfully, it was an easier contract than being the usual soldiery, consisting of escorting a couple carts of apparently valuable goods from one city to another. He never asked what was in the carts, knowing was not a part of the contract itself, only being assured that it was standard merchant wares from outside the kingdom. Rare, perhaps, but not something anyone above simple bandits might want. Considering the whole thing had gone off without too much of a hitch, Garret was inclined to believe that’s all it was. With the carts delivered on time and payment divvied among those involved, it was time to head back home, a good two day’s journey away.
It was midday when Garret saw the billowing awnings of what looked like a small local market, nestled up against craggy hills in the high sunlight. He slowed Ryker to a stop, something the stallion was not keen on and instead started going backwards with his ears flattened to his head.
“Oh, come on now...” he muttered under his breath before finally getting the animal to stop, having passed by Argent and his fine black steed.
The boy was laughing as he reigned to a stop and said, “Looks like that porcupine spooked him more than we thought.”
“To be perfectly fair, porcupines are mighty temperamental.” Garret snorted, crossing his arms authoritatively over his chest before reaching into his coat for his pipe. “’Sides. I think it was less the ‘pine and more the dragonfly that whapped him in the nose....”
“Why do you keep him if he’s so ... uh ... Ryker...” Argent started, taking note that the horse in question was now tossing his head and slowly moving sideways across the road.
“He was my first horse that I could afford and horses, like kids, are a commitment. Which frankly speaks a lot to how much I paid for him.” the older mercenary replied, nudging the stallion with a knee to get him to hold still while he packed and lit the pipe. Something caught his eye and he looked toward it, taking a few puffs. “He’s also got good sense of strange things brewin’.”
“Well, he is a strange thing, so I’m not surprised...”
The retort was lost on the elder somewhat, focused on what looked to be a small squad of soldiers down the road, coming from the direction they were supposed to be going. There was something about the formation they held that told him trying to get through right this instant wasn’t going to be easy. He’d need some time to figure out a way around them, or an alternate route.
“...You know what, let’s stop in here for a few minutes, pick up some souvenirs for the kids.” he said finally, nodding his head toward the market and picking up his reins again with one hand, urging Ryker forward, which the stallion was surprisingly eager to do. “Maybe grab a bite.”
Argent was quick to follow after his father. “Great. I need to get out of this saddle and stretch a little.”
“If you wanna keep doing this, you’ll have to learn to ride in one longer than half a day.” Garret answered, keeping a wary side-eye on the troops tromping up the road until they were a fair ways from it. “Most of it’s done in the saddle, after all.”
“Right.” came the answer, a determined staccato of a word like he meant to work at it. It didn’t stop him from sighing with relief once they dismounted and tied their reins to a hitch post.
“See if you can find some good textile skeins, wool preferably, any color.” Garret told the younger. “I’ll see about lunch.”
“Alright. I’m assuming for cheap as well?”
Garret nodded. “Cheaper is good, but check the hand above all. Get some good clothes made for winter this year.”
“Will do.” Argent gave a playful salute of acceptance before beginning the task given him.
He knew without a doubt that lunch was not going to be his father’s first stop. Maybe the last but not the first. There had been a glimmer in those steely eyes that meant he had other things to do.
