Caj’s hands moved over the neck of his newly purchased steed, Duff. Duff was a large grey carthorse, much to the dismay of the horse trader, who had been certain that he was going to make a hefty profit off of selling a battle Charger to Caj. Caj smirked to himself in the privacy of the stables.

If I wanted a horse capable and trained to kill a man, I would just take Ol’ Red. He thought sardonically. The beast is certainly onery enough.

Almost as though he could hear Caj’s thoughts, the spirited pony let out a proud snort, and a neigh, raising its greying muzzle into the air with a look of utter superiority. Caj let out a snort of his own, although his was more akin to laughter and amusement than pride. Duff appeared not to notice, content to munch away at the oats that Caj had brought to the pale grey gelding.

“Good boy, Duff, you just eat right on, get your fill, ‘cause it’s grass from here on out.” Caj murmured to the dappled grey draft horse.

It had to be admitted that he got some strange looks for selecting what was obviously a born and bred work-horse to be his steed, but Caj didn’t much care what they thought. If worse came to worse, he wanted an animal that could make an escape holding two to three people if necessary, or who could pull a cart. He didn’t like to think himself paranoid, but he had heard to many stories about bad luck to be able to dismiss the possibility, sure as sure. A new but familiar voice split the air.

“I still can’t believe that you named him Duff. I can’t tell if it’s blasphemous or amusing.” Count Isaac’s voice rang out.Caj turned with a smile to see Count and Countess Murphy, Marci, Rai, and Emma entering the barn.

“I think if the Reaper took offense to me naming Duff after His steed, He would’ve just struck me dead by now. Besides, it’s a sight better than what Rai named his horse.”

“Oi!” Rai protested loudly, “Patchy is a perfectly acceptable name fer me horse, thank ye very much.” He said loudly, gesturing at his brown mare that was covered in white patches of fur, “At least it be describing what me horse looks like. Not like ‘Duff’. Blazing Chaff Big-man, he looks nothing like the stories. Even the color be all wrong!” The young man declared, “He be as grey as river stone, not dark like the night sky. If yer goin’ tae name something, ye ought tae at least do it the honor of naming it proper like!”

“That’s the point Rai.” Marci said with some exasperation from where she leaned lightly against her cane, “It’s supposed to be a joke.” Rai cocked the only eyebrow left to him doubtfully.

Duff was the name of either the Reapers steed, or that of his holy paladin, the priests and old bard stories were of some disagreement over that particular point. Regardless, the horse featured in at least a dozen different common children’s tales, and it was always described the same way. A horse that was just skin and bones, small and thin, with a coat that was as black as night, and stars in it’s mane and tail. In short, Duff was everything that the large, muscular, pale grey-white cart-horse was not.

Caj grunted.

“I don’t know, I like Duff.” Caj said, as the large horse nosed at his pockets, looking for either apples or sugar cubes no doubt. Natalia had been spoiling the horse over the past two weeks, in Caj’s opinion. Rai grumbled under his breath at Caj’s words.

“It seems that ‘Duff’ likes ye also Big-man. Be sure ye don’t be getting too close tae the nag, I be thinking that Natty would be likin’ it if ye got too close with that horse. She might be jealous…” Rai trailed off at the disapproving stares on the faces of Marci and Isabelle, the wide-eyed stare of Emma, and the bland looks on both Caj and Isaac’s face.

“What?” he asked, confused. Caj let out a sigh.

All that time spent teaching him etiquette, wasted… Caj thought, inwardly raging at his ineptitude as a teacher, and Rai’s apparent lack of care for the lessons he had attempted to imprint on the lad.

“Have I ever told you that you are rather crass?” Caj asked wearily.

“Nope.” Rai said cheerily, “Just that I’m a pain in the…” He stuttered to a stop once more at the glare directed at him by Caj, then at the disapproving stares that surrounded him. The only one not looking at him with reproach was Emma. “Oh.” The burned young man said hesitantly, “I think I be seeing yer point, Big-man.”

“Mmm.” Caj hummed noncommittally as he turned back to Duff, and finished putting his bridle on, before leading the huge beast out of its stall. Countess Isabelle spoke for the first time since entering the stable.

“Rai, Emma, darlings, why don’t you go get your horses ready, like Caj, it’s best to be ready to go.” She tucked a grey-black lock that had escaped from her bun back behind her ear. “Emma, if you need assistance, I’m sure Marci would be glad to provide it.”

Marci cocked an eyebrow at her mother.

“You might’ve asked me mother.” She said without any heat, her voice filled with amusement and chagrin. Count Isaac snorted at that.

“Pfft, your mother doesn’t ask people to do things, Marci, and I wouldn’t expect her to start now. When the Reaper comes for her, she’s liable to tell him that he has the wrong person.” Isabelle sniffed.

“And if he has any sense at all, he’ll listen.” She replied easily, eliciting a chuckle from her husband and Caj. Marci snorted a laugh as she was hobbling over to the stall that held Emma’s mount, a sturdy-looking bay pony, named ‘Snap’, as that was the only way that Emma could call him.

With a smile, Isabelle walked up to Caj and wrapped him in a hug. Caj was somewhat surprised, but he found himself clutching her shoulders, not unlike when he was but a young child, and prone to the crying fits that every toddler experiences, and that every teenager looks back on with some level of chagrin and embarrassment. Just now though, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You take good care of them, you hear me Caj Donovan?” Isabelle whispered quietly.

“Of course Auntie, I promise.” Caj replied evenly. She patted his back in a motherly manner.

“Good boy.” She squeezed him once more, then walked over to assist Rai, who was having trouble getting the saddle on his horse with only one hand. Count Isaac approached Caj next, clapping his hand on Caj’s shoulder. It was made somewhat awkward since Caj was several fingers taller that Isaac, and the count had to reach upwards to reach his shoulders.

“Caj, I can not tell you how proud Isabelle and I are of you, and how happy we are that you are going to do something with your life, by going to the Knightyard, and serving the kingdom…”

Count Isaac let out a deep sigh and scratched at his ridge of thinning hair hesitantly. Caj rather though the man looked like a type of monkey that was often seen in the southern provinces of the Vencheng empire, called the Bald Uakari. Caj had only ever seen two illustrations of the monkey, both in a book about the history of the southernmost provinces of the Vencheng empire, where the bald, red-faced primates had been trained much as individuals in Whoid Stria might train a watch dog. With his thin features, currently flushed face, and ponderous itching at the back of his head, Isaac Murphy looked no so different to one of those illustrations. Caj decided to employ the same strategy as he might in combat: cut to the heart of the matter. If he didn’t, Isaac would take forever to say what he actually wanted to, like a man covered in a thousand tiny nicks taking an age to die. It was the quickest and easiest solution.

“What is it Isaac?” Caj asked bluntly. The Count looked at him with a sigh, then a chuckle.

“From the ink-pot to the page in less than a second, eh Caj?” Isaac said with a smile. “No time to let the quill make a beauty of it then?” Caj shrugged,

“An apt metaphor, considering how many pages I ruined when I was learning to write.” He said with a grin of his own. Count Isaac sighed again, but this time it was fond remembrance rather than nervousness or uncomfortability.

“Hmmm,” he smiled warmly, “Those were good days.”

A curtain of silence hung in the air like the sword draped across Caj’s back; deadly. Quiet, comfortable, and ever-present, but deadly nonetheless. It was not a long silence, nor a particularly telling one, but it was deep and dark, holding within itself all the history of Caj’s time in the boneyard, and cradling all of the joy and pain that accompanied that history. The silence snapped like a wishbone in the hands of a child as Count Isaac finally spoke once more.

“I have some advice to give you, Caj.” He said, steadily meeting the young man’s gaze. “By all rights, it should be Narm doing this for you, but he is not here, so the duty falls to me. My life is not the same as yours; I am a scribe, you a warrior; I am a Count, and the son of a Count, you, an undertaker and the son of a Duke. We are different men, with different path’s and purposes as given to us by the Reaper.” Caj smirked inwardly at the Count’s prose and serious tone,

Apparently cutting to the heart of a matter isn’t enough for it to spill it’s lifeblood all at once. Caj thought wryly, Some men are too stubborn to die quickly after all, and some men to eloquent to explain with haste. His thoughts went back to what Isaac was saying.

“Different men, with different paths, yes, but some things hold true for all men, regardless of profession, position, or path.” He licked his lips before continuing, and Caj’s focus sharpened so far as to be the point of one of Natalia’s sewing needles. “There are three things I wish to tell you this day. Two are words once spoken to me by my own father, and one is general advice applicable to you and your situation. The first: Remember, my boy, a pen can kill as surely as any sword, providing it is wielded by the correct hand.” He paused to look at Caj more closely, “Don’t forget that in the court of Greatriver, someone is just as likely to kill you from the back as they are to face you from the front. The second: When men die, they become graves to be dug; numbers to be tallied. Nothing more. Do not let them weigh on your mind. Such would be folly of the greatest sort, for it is not for men to try and shoulder the burden of the Reaper.” Isaac stopped entirely now, looking closely at Caj. Caj cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Count Isaac, for your council.” Caj said with sincerity. It was custom for a father to see of their sons with words of wisdom before a long journey, and for Isaac to do so for him was a great compliment, and demonstration of the fact that the man cared. Count Isaac smiled at him once more before speaking, in a softer voice this time; almost a whisper. Caj guessed that it was so that the others wouldn’t hear.

“Don’t thank me yet. You may not like what I have to say next.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “Vengence isn’t worth living for, and righteous anger isn’t worth bloody well dying for. Try to let go of your anger towards the Headsman if you can, and put aside any thoughts of his death. It’s not worth what would happen to you, or to them.” Isaac said, nodding at Rai and Emma, who were both standing across the stable watching the quiet conversation with interested eyes, while Isabelle berated Marci about something that the young woman obviously found inconsequential. Caj let out a deep sigh.

“I know that. I truly do, and believe me when I say that I have no intent on trying to harm the man, no matter how much I want to.” The last was growled out through gritted teeth, and layered with the sound of the leather creaking ominously as Caj gripped the hilt of the shortsword at his waist. “Perhaps it would be easier if there were something I could admire about the man, Bietre always says that it is difficult to kill a man who you can respect.” Caj looked at the count hopefully, and got nothing but a snort in return.

“The only thing I admire about Dean Rankin,” Isaac said loathingly, “Is his penmanship: Though I am loathe to admit it, it far outstrips my own.” Caj snorted a dark laugh at that, and Isaac continued. “He is a heartless man, prone to violence and experimentation on his fellow man. The vilest of sorts.” Caj gave Count Isaac a flat look.

“That really doesn’t help. Now I would just feel vindicated for killing him. If I even could.” Caj mumbled the last, and Isaac elected to ignore it, offering a shrug and a tightlipped smile.

“Consider it an exercise in self-control then, eh?”

Caj shook his head at that, then turned towards the door to the stable, leading Duff out. Rai and Emma followed him to the courtyard, where they saddled up and set out for Stormholme Estates, where they planned to meet with the newly knighted Captain O’Donnell, and where they would set out of the first leg of their journey.