NOVEL FROG 43. Tesyb
~ Tesyb ~
Tesyb hunched deeper into his worn out blanket, the late-morning chill seeping through the threadbare fabric. He was sitting on the crumbling remains of his doorstep, the remnants of what had once been a sturdy door creaking mournfully in the breeze. The news carried on the excited chatter of villagers hurrying past had drawn him out of his burnt house. Apparently, guards from the manor were going to make an announcement in the village square, and everyone was expected to gather there.
He hadn't missed the arrival of the caravan yesterday, the one that brought their new Lord to Tiranat. A young man by all accounts, his arrival had caused a stir in the village. Whispers flew like wildfire, carrying the rumor that he was none other than a son of the Duke of Ulriga himself. Tesyb had scoffed at the rumors at first. It seemed too grand, too unbelievable to be true, but a rapid spread of the rumors had lent them a troubling weight. Now, they seemed to be the only explanation for a high-born noble like him ending up in this desolate village. He guessed that the baron was exiled, most likely. The specific crime the new baron might have done to earn that exile remained a mystery, lost in the murky games of power that nobles played amongst themselves.
What could this announcement be about? Curiosity tugged at him. News was a rare commodity these days, especially good news. With a shrug of resignation, he decided there wasn't much else to do, so why not? As he stood up, a sliver of hope ignited within him. Maybe, just maybe, the announcement had something to do with the coal mines reopening. But Tesyb quickly crushed any lingering hope with a cynical scoff. Wishful thinking, nothing more. He knew for a fact that the manor's coal barns were still overflowing. After all, he had been the one leading the wagons the last time they delivered a load of coal to the manor - the barns were loaded to the brim back then. And without a steady stream of merchants to buy the coal, Tesyb couldn't fathom why anyone would consider reopening the mines.
He glanced towards the ramshackle structure that served as his family's home nowadays. His parents, their weathered faces etched with worry, peeked out from the doorway. Handing over his blanket to them, Tesyb offered a reassuring nod. "Just heading down to the square to see what the fuss is about," he called out. "Be back soon."
As he set off, Tesyb shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What did the lineage of the new Baron matter to him? A noble was a noble, exiled or not. Their reasons for being here were irrelevant to the harsh realities facing the villagers. Exiled for political missteps or genuine crimes, it all meant the same - another master to serve, another set of rules to follow.
The village square wasn't very far, and he needed to hear this announcement for himself, even if it was just another empty promise from a self-serving noble. As he reached closer, a wave of murmur and excited chatter drifted towards him from the square.
Tesyb rounded a corner and the familiar sight of the village square came into view. This central gathering place of the village, which doubled as the sole marketplace of the village, now reflected the hardships that had befallen Tiranat. These days only a few stalls stood as silent testaments to better days, their awnings drooping and their wares gathering dust. With the mines shuttered, and after the recent bandit raid, the villagers' pockets were lighter than ever, and there were few customers to tempt the weary merchants.
He gazed at the villagers walking towards the square, noting the familiar faces bearing a mixture of curiosity and desperation. A low sigh escaped his lips. It wasn't surprising. With the closure of the mines, and their most reliable source of income severed, most villagers had little else to occupy their time.
He quickened his pace, weaving his way through the growing crowd. As he entered the square proper, the sheer number of people already gathered there surprised him. Drawn by the promise of news, it seemed like most of Tiranat's inhabitants were gathered here, a stark contrast to the deserted square he was accustomed to these days. He must have received the news later than most - his home, nestled near the village's western edge, placed him further from the rumor mill.
The sight before him stirred a bittersweet pang of nostalgia. He remembered evenings in the square after each hard day spent working in the coal mines, his pockets jingling with hard-earned coin. Nearly all the miners, their faces flushed and muscles aching from exhaustion, would gather here after collecting their wages for the day. This place would become a hive of activity in the evenings - stalls overflowing with fresh vegetables from the local vegetable patches and fruits brought by the gatherers would do a brisk trade, with the joyous laughter of children chasing each other in the background. The butcher's shop at the corner would offer freshly cut meat brought by the hunters venturing into the nearby forests.
All around the marketplace, merchants would be hawking their wares to the newly paid miners. The air would be thick with the chatter of bartering and the clinking of coins, their laughter mingling with the comforting aroma of brewing ale wafting from the alehouse at the corner. For many, it was a time to unwind - a mug or two of ale at the tavern, a shared joke with friends, a respite from the day's toil. Tesyb cast a wistful glance towards the alehouse, its once-gleaming sign now dull and chipped. It had been far too long since he'd enjoyed a mug of ale after a long day's work. A pang of longing shot through him - a longing for better times, for a full belly, and the camaraderie that had once filled the village square.
He shook himself out of his melancholy, the urgency of the present pushing aside the ghosts of the past. He needed to get closer, to hear what the Baron's announcement was all about. He maneuvered through the crowd, the press of bodies pushing him steadily toward the center of the now densely packed marketplace.
Tesyb squelched his way through the final patch of mud, a remnant of the downpours that had plagued them just days ago. Reaching near the center of the crowded square, he found himself craning his neck to see over the heads of the villagers gathered there. As he scanned the crowd, his gaze fell upon the two manor guards standing near the aged well that served as the unofficial heart of the gathering place. He recognized one of them instantly - Kerel, a grizzled guard with a mane of iron-gray hair who usually manned the main gate of the manor. A seasoned veteran pushing forty, Kerel wasn't exactly friendly, but Tesyb knew him by face at least.
The crowd continued to swell, their murmurs and hushed conversations creating a low buzz of anticipation. Tesyb had to wait for a while to hear the announcement since the guards seemed to be waiting for more of the villagers to gather there. Finally, Kerel stepped onto a sturdy wooden bench beside the well, his presence demanding silence. He raised a hand, silencing the growing din, all eyes fixed on the guard.
"Hear ye, hear ye!" his voice boomed across the square. "A message from the Baron himself!"
A hush fell over the crowd, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation hanging heavy in the air. Tesyb shifted his weight, his curiosity piqued.
"The Baron seeks new recruits for his manor guard! Those with experience in combat will be given preference," he continued, his gaze scanning the faces before him. "Any young man, strong and fit, with a desire to serve as a guard, step forward and speak to me after the announcement." Young men, their faces etched with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, shifted at the front of the crowd.
A flurry of questions erupted from the crowd. "How many guards is the Lord looking for?" someone shouted.
Kerel held up a hand, silencing the growing commotion. "We aim for a dozen new recruits today, and possibly more in the coming weeks."
Another voice, this time belonging to a burly miner, boomed with a question that echoed the anxieties of many. "And how much will the new guards be paid for it?" he demanded.
A tense silence followed the question. Kerel exchanged a hesitant glance with his fellow guard before turning back to the expectant faces. He shook his head slowly, the movement stiff and deliberate.
Turning back to the crowd, he spoke, his voice carrying a note of regret. "At this time, we cannot offer any payment of coin..."
