Chương 9: Snakes in the Grass

Nothing is worse than getting caught with your pants down. That's why I've included this schema for the perfect belt! Straight from Planet Earth, this belt promises to keep up those drawers! —The Artificer's Guide to Leather Goods For the second time in the past month, we found ourselves leaving our homes. One could argue that the hovels in which we lived were hardly worthy of the title, but it didn't change the fact that we were all about to be without a place to live.

The thought of moving to an unknown land without the support of a city, as indifferent as Fairfield was, brought no small amount of trepidation. The first step, completed within hours by Ernie, was to get maps detailing the location of Mossbrook Valley. He found several, though details were fairly sparse. It was situated at the northern reaches of Vandmar, nestled between the vast mountain ranges that spanned the border.

There was mention of a single village established years prior as a checkpoint to the lands on the other side, but had been abandoned long ago, as far as we could tell. The valley itself was massive. I didn't even want to consider the taxes that the duke must have been paying on the land. It stretched a span of about a hundred miles, a good twenty-five to thirty miles wide. It was hard to tell with the low quality of the maps. There was only around fifteen miles that had been explored into the valley.

The most concerning thing was that the amount of landmass should have far outweighed the amount of gold that the duke had valued it at. This was only exacerbated by the change in tone from those in power that came with our approaching eviction from the city. I created a mental checklist of some essential purchases. I gathered my coin, which I had kept in a small cloth bundle beneath my bed. It no longer fit in my pockets— suffering from success, I suppose?

I double-checked my spending balance before making my way to Wendy's general goods as my first stop. > Currency(Vandmar): 74s, 88c The small bell announced my entry to the room. The smell of cinnamon was heavy on the air and brought pleasant memories of home. Wendy wasn't at the counter, so I began to work my way through the shelves, deciding what I would bring for the journey to Mossbrook Valley. A small rucksack caught my eye.

It was made from soft brown leather and had a single strap that went over the chest, like a sling. I could tell it was used, but that only added to the appeal for me. It was well broken in and looked comfortable.

I picked it up and checked the price tag. Four silver. It was definitely worth more in my opinion, but being used must have dropped the price considerably. I opened it and used it as a shopping bag for the rest of my purchases. A small tin cookpot ate an additional five silver. Briefly, I had considered a full pan, but I knew that the HOA had already acquired cookware and I wasn't likely to need anything more for some time. I picked a matching wooden bowl and spoon to go with it.

A small knife and other various goods like twine made for a decent survival pack, and most importantly, a hatchet. I only splurged and made one frivolous purchase: a shaving razor with a bar of soap. It had been too long since I had a proper bath. Wendy was back at the counter by the time I had finished perusing the shelves, and gave a soft smile.

"I heard about what they're doing to you all. It's really unfair, and I'm so sorry. I hope you don't judge the rest of us for not standing up. If we did, the duke…" I put my hands out, stopping her.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I get it. Really. The guy's a real asshole and would make your lives hell. Besides, it's really the only way out of a shitty situation for us. Speaking of, you wouldn't happen to know anything about a 'Mossbrook Valley' by any chance, would you?" She scrunched her face, considering for a few moments. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Nooo, I don't think so." She slowly drew out her response.

"Leastways, not anything more than the basics. It's just an uninhabited valley up north. I don't think there's anything of value up there." She tapped her chin, contemplating, then perked up.

"Oh! You should ask my grandpa! Just head over to the pub a couple blocks down to the left. It's called 'Fiddler's Tale'. Just ask for Leo Burgess and tell him I sent you. I know he used to live to the north before I was born. I bet he knows something, at least."

"That's great! Thank you. How much do I owe?" I pulled out my makeshift coinpurse and started stacking the silver on the counter.

"Just give me twenty, and we'll call it even. And I'll throw in this old coinpurse; you're gonna lose all your money with that old thing!" Before I could protest, she expanded.

"I don't care to profit off of what's happening. Just promise to be safe and stop back by when you're in town again!" We parted ways, and I made for the tavern equipped with my new pack bulging with my essentials. I caught several looks on the way. They ranged anywhere from pity to the usual animosity, as the curious looks at our foreign clothes had long passed. If the people and those in charge had been different, this would have been an amazing place to live. The Fiddler's Tale was much older than I had expected.

The owner had stopped exterior maintenance long ago, it would seem. Paint was missing from the majority of the face, and the remaining patches were sun-bleached and peeling. Saloon-style doors opened into a dimly lit room that relied on the outside light making its way in. The bartender was an elderly man with wispy white hair that clung to the sides of his head, fading to a bald crown. He wore a stained white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a black apron that sported flour stains.

He only glanced at me when I entered, continuing to wipe down empty tankards.

"Hello, I'm looking for Leo Burgess? Is he here?"

"Who's asking?" The bartender asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Wendy—No, Logan! I mean, it's—My name's Logan. Wendy sent me." I finished lamely and cringed internally at the botched response.

"Well, 'Wendy No Logan', it's a pleasure to meet you. Do they all have such odd names where you come from?" He barked a laugh, obviously relishing in my embarrassment.

"Can I pour you a pint, my boy? On the house. I figure you probably need one after what you've all been through the last week." He didn't wait for an answer before he hit the tap on a large barrel and filled a mug.

"Leo's over there, geezer with the vest." He slid two mugs across the counter and nodded at Leo.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." I was growing more frustrated with every positive interaction I had here. It made the betrayal sting that much more sharply. I took the mugs and sat next to the man. He seemed to be lost in thought, staring out the window, and gave a start when I set the mug down.

"Hey Leo, I'm Logan. Wendy suggested I talk to you." He smiled at his granddaughter's name.

"If Wendy likes you, then I know you're good company. What can I do for you?"

"She said you used to live up north, and I was wondering if you've ever heard of a place called 'Mossbrook Valley'?" He frowned.

"Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time. I know it. Why do you ask?"

"My people are being sent there, and we have no idea what to expect." I continued to explain how we had gotten to that point.

"I see. And the duke gave you the valley instead of the gold. He would do something like that, wouldn't he?" He pursed his lips and considered a moment before continuing.

"He pulled off a nice little trifecta of backhanded snakery, is what he did. I know all about the valley. I used to live there, after all. It's a beautiful place, absolutely stunning. But I'll get to that." He took a long draught from his mug and cleared his throat.

"You all, ingeniously I might add, duped the duke. But he's not one to take it lying down. He extricated himself from paying out the gold. That's the first part. I suspect this was more out of pride and being unable to look bad in front of the courtiers, minor as they are. A small silver lining, you effectively found a way out of the draft and cut him off from using you." I nodded at his assessment, as we had come to the same conclusion.

"The second part: he gave you a piece of land that, on its own, is probably worth ten, or even twenty times that value. You see, each holding in the empire must pay a tax, and by granting you the unused land, he no longer has to pay taxes to the emperor. That will fall to you."

"That makes sense, but why didn't he just sell the land to someone else and make more money if it's worth so much and he wanted out of paying taxes on it?" I couldn't see where he was taking me.

"Ah, yes. That is where the third part comes in. His revenge."