The Ten, parts 1 & 2

Chapter 1

He walked out into the cold spring air, looked down at the courtyard, and shivered. Arrayed in a single rank, cloaks billowing in the gentle wind were ‘the ten’, the sworn of Valten Corvus; mercenaries, the finest warriors in the feudal lands. None new their faces, hidden as they were beneath masks of black ivory worth more than many would earn in a life time, but all were infamous for their long sabers an the Raven livery of their lord.
He pulled his cloak about him suddenly cold as if their very presence stole the little warmth offered by the mild day. He had seen soldiers before many times, and even the mighty tribes’ men that moved between the shifting borders of the feudal lands; but ‘the ten’, they were killers. His farther had summoned them as winter began to thaw, desperate for any edge in the battle inevitable in the coming year and he dare not think of the price being agreed upon in the hall below. He swore under his breath as he remembered the audience, he was late and his curiosity had gotten the better of his manners. Briskly he headed toward the main hall mindless of the menials and servants he passed.

The hall was cold, as it always was despite the roaring fire and lavish tapestries; he slipped past retainers and servants to stand beside his fathers dais, and was struck by he man who stood before his fathers throne. Corvus was tall and stood with the manner of a lord equal to his father despite his warriors’ appearance, this grated with him but the fear quelled the feeling. He stared at the blank mask, glossy and black save for a stylized raven picked out in delicate white paint on the left cheek.
”Agreed lord Randal,” the warrior bowed and turned on his heel, striding from the hall parting the crowd to the door.
“Edwin my boy,”
his attention was drawn away from the warrior, “Father?” he blanched at the look in his fathers eyes, Lord Randall looked haggard beyond his fifty years.
”Come here my boy,” he turned to those gathered, “Leave us.”
Edwin watches as the retainers filed out before turning back to his father, Lord Randall’s eyes were filled with sorrow, worry etched over his face and brow,. “My son we live in dangerous times, the Castellens are marching from the south, rumors of this reached me too late and now we know it for certain they will enter our lands within the week.” He paused dropping his head and taking a deep breath before looking back up at his son, “With our expansions to the east last year we are spread to thin and our forces too few after our losses to the Deltrians, we cannot win this battle alone. Valten is taking the ten south, they will endeavor to halt the Castellens or at the very least delay them until we can raise the muster and march the peasants south. You are promised to the ten as,” he paused again, “collateral, against any betrayal on my part.”
Edwin stood and began to pace down the hall unable to take in the information, he brushed his hands through his close cropped hair in despair his mind racing with questions, “Is your word not enough or this braggart? Does he not recognize your position?”
”Be calm my son, it is his standard practice, I offered your sister so that you could better assist me here but he declined. I will need you with him; you can send me word of the battle. I would match your swordsmanship against any of his band. I trust your safety as you must trust this was our only course of action.” Lord Randall weep silent tears, “I am sorry my boy.” He moved forward kissing his son on the forehead, “Attend Corvus in the courtyard, you leave at his command and time is short.”
Edwin, stood mind reeling caught between duty and honor, “very well father, I will take on this duty and return to you battle won.” They clasped hands in the warriors embrace and head held high, for show rather than any pride he felt, Edwin left the hall.


Chapter 2

Valten Corvus smiled to his self, not that anyone would ever see, as they boy approached He was weak, not frail like so many of the villagers he passed in Randall’s domain, but the boy had no spirit, too spoiled and full of pointless manners. It would not be a pleasant journey.
”Edwin Randall,” he bowed, how quaint, “my father…”
”I know who you are boy as you know me, let us not waste each others time, you have until the noon bell tolls to make ready,” Corvus turned and nodded to a wiry man at the end of the rank, “Crow will accompany you to ensure you pack only what is needed. Now go.”
The boy looked stunned, another hidden smile, he was sure the whelp was about to speak but thankfully he nodded and trotted back into the keep Crow quick on his pampered heels.
Corvus turned to the remaining nine, “Hawk, ride ahead, we’ll meet you at the Lethie ford by dusk.” The tallest of the ten nodded, the morning lighting glinting off the hawk etched in silver on his mask, and walked toward the stables. “The rest of you, you have until noon, watch your selves, many here will not ‘enjoy’ our presence.” His response was a chorus of muted laughter and salutes.
As they walked away, Corvus noted that Falcon and Lark, the only female in the band, wandered away together talking in hushed tones. He cursed, Falcon was the newest of the ten recruited only a month ago and he was beginning to dislike the easy friendship the two shared, it felt like trouble. He cleared such thoughts from his mind as the smell of roasting meats wafted from the keep stirring his appetite, he longed for hot food; the nature of the ten meant they spent long periods on the road and good cooked food was scarce. The kitchen, he decided, was where his time would be best spent.