Blogalot

Castle Fijor was located near the banks of the wide but placid Froth River. It had been laid to siege by the armies of the usurper, General Curabfes. His cannons and catapults had all but annihilated the castle, its Lord Blay and his armies, forcing them to flee from a hastily dug tunnel on the opposite side of the siege machine, forgetting the inhabitant of their dungeon in their haste. They were routed by Curabfes’s cavalry a little way away from the castle walls and mown down by their spears.

Our prisoner listened raptly to these words, which were being said by a fisherman he had found at the near shore of River Froth. The fisher had spotted him exiting the castle gates and had remained dumbstruck till our man had approached him. He had told the fisher about his imprisonment, after which the fisher had told him about the fate of Castle Fijor and pieced together our man’s side of the story.

“Well”, the fisher said, “I had forgotten the common courtesy in my haste. Me name’s Horn Thull, what’s yours, me good sir?” “My name”, our man replied, “is Chief Gabrey.”

“Bloody hell!” Horn swore. “You are the famed Gabrey? Commander and axeman of the Tail Knights, the King’s supreme knight squad? YOU were in Castle Fijor the whole time? I remember the frenzy the whisperers and town shouters had gone into when you were reported missing!” “But!” Horn gasped. “Oh no. My lord, I bear grave news for you. After a long campaign by the traitor, our good King Yaenar was dethroned and executed. All his supporters and bannermen were forced to change sides. It has been two years since. I am afraid that the Tail Knights are gone. You have no family nor any friends left, my lord. You have no place to return to. If Curabfes’s men catch wind of you living, you will be exiled, or worse, executed. It would be best for you to leave this country of your own accord, me lord. I’m sure you would be recognised in any town you visit, and many a man, not me of course, would sell you out for a bounty. Not everyone has the guts or the moral to oppose the usurper’s throne. But, even if you did leave the country, me lord, where would you go? Us with the skin of soil and snow are not welcome in the lands south and east, and doubtless the barbarians in the north would tear you limb from force you into bloody slavery. Forgive me, me lord, but should it not be wise for you to end it here? This realm has no place for a man from the past.”