A Taste of Deception

Deception

     Long ago in a faraway land there lived a young man of twenty-two. He was in no way rich, owning only what he carried on his back and the name Draven that his mother gave him. Being of a poor family he left his mother and father at an early age to see what he could make of his life. In the five years since he set out he had been a shepherd, a butcher, apprenticed to a knight and a temporary helper to a traveling bowman. The last two, unfortunately, didn’t end well for Draven’s masters; ending in their untimely demise. Tired of the carnage he had seen while traveling with them he left the large cities and headed north to get away from it all; which is what led him to the peaceful town of Nazov nestled in the foot hills at the base of the Melltith Mountains.

     It was a small, quiet, town with small shops lining the street. The air smelled of fresh tilled dirt in the early spring air. Draven felt at peace in the little town and decided to make his home there where nothing unexpected ever happened. And so he did, at the inn he found work as a stable hand and there he stayed for almost a year and nothing exciting ever happened.

     Until one day…. It did.

     It was in early April on a cold night a group of five knights rode into the town led by a tall, handsome knight on a black charger and dressed in shiny silver armor. The other four made less of a figure on blood bay stallions and in less shiny armor but were no less gallant. They rode up to the inn and handed their chargers to the shivering stable boy who took the tired horses to the stables.

     Inside the inn everyone watched in amazement as the knights strode through the door, for they had never seen such gallant knights before.

     “I am Sir Pellaus. We must have food, my good man!” The handsome knight said to the innkeeper and they made themselves comfortable by the fire. “And the best ale that you have, for we have come many miles in the cold and rain and are in need of sustenance!”

     “Yes, my lords.” The innkeeper said, bowing. He turned to his wife who stood wiping her hands on her apron. “Hurry, Kate. The stew!” Shaking out of her trance she hurried back into the kitchen.

     “Come, Astrid. Help me with the ale.” He said to his daughter, then he turned to Draven. “Go help Tom with the horses. Hurry, lad!”

     Draven grabbed his cloak from by the kitchen door and stepped out into the cold night air. He made his way over to the stables and found young Tom struggling to take the saddle off of the black stallion, who stood almost twice his size.

     “Here, Tom, let me help you.” Draven said.

     He lifted the saddle off and set it on the rail then helped Tom rub the horse down. All five of them were worn out and it was obvious that they came from a long ways away.