The eerie call of the nightingale breaks the silence of night in the quiet hours before dawn. Its haunting voice slipping into the dreams of sleeping villagers, bringing thoughts of darker things, nightmares that can only be dispelled by waking. Few choose to rise before the advent of the sun, before even the rooster begins his morning ritual. For a young woman in the village of Dwarrow Mist, however, the nightingale's song is a call to rise, to begin another day of indentured labor.

Dwarrow Mist, a small village that lies northeast of the harbor at Southern Haven, was a quiet place; a small stop on the trade-road from the harbor to the Court of Kings in the north. Its people are simple folk, hard workers that strive to eke out a meager living under the stern rule of their over-lords. Near the center of the village, small shops are scattered where merchants peddle their wares... and here the bakery could also be found.

Inside the bakery, a young woman rose in the darkness from her simple bed of hay near the large oven. She folded her worn woolen blanket and placed it in a small chest. From the hook above the chest, she took an equally worn woolen dress and slipped it over her slender frame. Moving to a small table, she poured cold water from a pitcher into a small basin. She splashed the water onto her face, washing her face and hands. Then, she walked over to the large oven and stoked the banked coals. She smiled as the familiar warmth began to heat the room, taking the chill out of her bones. Another day had begun for Alyson Rolfe.

Alyson Rolfe was a young woman of eighteen, the bond-servant to the baker, Joseph Tanner, and his family for the past seven years. She had learned the trade well, and as she grew older was entrusted with more and more responsibilities. Now, Alyson was expected to rise early, to make sure the fire was ready and to begin to prepare the dough for the morning orders. As the sun rose, she would expect Tanner to arrive, gruff as he always was early in the day.

He would grumble at her work ' but she knew as well as he did that Alyson was worth more than the amount he had paid for her. She was trustworthy and efficient. He knew that, unlike others he had hired to hawk his wares, Alyson would return to the bakery with every coin in her pocket from her sales. His only fear, that she would meet a man who would try to buy out her bond and take her away from him. And so he did his best to keep her self-esteem low as befit a servant, and to keep her busy so that she would have no time for dreams of a different life.

It was not an easy existence, but Alyson accepted it. Only in her dreams did she allow herself to imagine what life would be like in three years... when she would be free... Her heart fluttered at the mere thought. While Tanner had succeeded in preventing her from capturing the hearts of any young men, he could not contain her longing for adventure...

By the time the rooster began his morning song, waking the world with his rough voice, Alyson had already taken the first loaves of bread out of the oven. She smiled as now the fragrant smell of sweet rolls wafted through the room. Surely today would be a good day... Surely Tanner could not find fault with her work today...

She looked up as the sound of the door in the back room slammed shut. The baker strode in purposefully, his eyes taking in every detail in the room. "Lazy wench!" he said with a glare. "You should ha' your tray ready b'fore now!" He grabbed the wooden tray and shoved it into her arms.

Alyson's tray was a long piece of wood with four low sides that would keep the bread from slipping off. From each of the long ends was attached an end of a leather strap that she would slip over her head, supporting the weight of the laden tray on her neck and shoulders.

Biting her lip, Alyson only replied, "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry," as she began to place loaves of bread onto the tray. Part of her wanted to snap back - that she was working as hard as she could... that she deserved at least a little appreciation... but she knew it would only bring the lash - and her back was still tender from the last time.

Tanner only harrumphed and pulled the finished rolls out of the oven, dumping them onto her tray, then swatting at her with the wooden shovel that the rolls had baked on. "Get on wi' ye then! There's hungry people ta feed!"

Alyson slipped the strap over her head and maneuvered carefully out the door. The sun was rising in the sky, banishing the fog from the quiet streets.

As she walked Alyson would pause as people of the village would come to their doors and windows, waving her to stop so they could buy their daily bread or some rolls for breakfast.

My life is a rut... running on forever...some days I feel I'll burst if I don't break free...

--------------------

Life, for Corran Meranus, was simply one thing.

Survival.

He was a drifter, a sort of social outcast when it came right down to it, and lived life in a most melancholy way. He was a former mercenary, a sort of soldier for hire, willing to do the messier of most jobs just to get money so he could eat the next day.

The big brute of a man trodded silently through town, not looking for trouble at all, though people still cleared out of his path where he did walk. He was not a stupid man; he was partially self-educated, at least as much as possible before his former place of learning had burnt to the ground. If someone were to look deep into those dark green eyes they would find a gentle soul, full of compassion and mercy, but the outside was by far more battle-hardened than the most hearty veteran of wars.

A merchant was hanging a wooden sign nearby for his new shop, the heavy thing hard for the small man to hang on the big iron hooks of the sign hanger, and for a moment, he faltered, almost dropping it. Corran eyed him as he walked past slowly, not wanting the man to crush himself under the heavy wooden sign.

He almost had it on the hooks when the stool the man stood upon broke, not meant for strenuous weights. He fell backward, the sign falling in his arms to squash his head and torso much like one would step upon a cockroach. The man hit the ground, expecting death, and a few seconds later dared to open his eyes.

Corran stood over him, holding the sign, his huge frame casting a large shadow over the fallen merchant. It took an incredible amount of strength to lift the thing, much less catch it as it was falling. Nevertheless, Corran had caught the sign, saving the merchant from leaving the mortal coil. The man managed to stare a few seconds before trying to scramble away and stammering what had come to be a normal thing around Corran.

"G-g-get thee hence, thou abomination! Thou sh-shalt not c-come not into my shop!!"

Corran watched the man with sad eyes as he tried to crawl backwards away from him, and looked up, calmly hanging the sign with ease. Such was his problem, he could not find a soul who did not fear him, yet nobody realized that there was nothing to fear.

He walked on, trying to forget the situation, just as he had forgotten all the other times similar things had happened. All he honestly wanted was redemption, something even the Church could not grant. He had killed, taken life, murdered, and had committed countless other unspeakable actions against his fellow man. Such a sin was unpardonable. Still he toiled, preferring life to death. He preferred his own life to his own death, which was the reason he still took on mercenary jobs, but for the most part, he would rather be out of the killing business.

A smell wafted his way, a beautiful fragrance he had not detected since Sheridan, about six towns ago. A bakery was up the street on his right. He stepped in, enjoying the wonderful aroma before making himself known, knocking on the inside of the doorway. It seemed that this was a worker's entrance, and he saw a woman walking down the street with fresh bread rolls. He would prefer a loaf, but a roll would do fine for now.

Catching up was easy for him with his long muscular legs, and he dwarfed her in size as he came up behind her. Lucky for him, nobody saw him trying to catch up with her, otherwise they would have probably assumed he was going to mug her and rape her or some other nasty thing.

He tapped her on the shoulder, two small copper coins in his hands. It was not much, and he hoped it was enough for a roll, but he was prepared to do just about anything for food. He also hoped she would not scream and call the royal guard, but that was the peril of being who he was.

He silently waited, holding out the money in his big leathery hand.

Alyson's shoulders were bent with the weight of her load, but she managed to keep a smile on her face. She could almost hear Tanner's words, A grump never made a sale girl ' so keep that grin pasted on yer pathetic face!

She shook her head, such thoughts only made things harder to bear. For a girl brought up to a life of servitude, Alyson had an attitude that was not exactly befitting to her station. She was old enough to know how the world worked ' but that did not keep her from dreaming'�

Suddenly Alyson felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around, her jaw dropping at the sight of the giant before her. Alyson gasped, but managed to keep her wits about her as she took in the sight of the huge man holding two small coins. Her eyes were drawn to his face, a look of apprehension, uncertainty, on his strong features.

Swallowing hard as she fought the urge to run away, Alyson spoke quietly, 'I'� would you like to buy some rolls?'� She mentally berated herself ' the man was holding coins out to her ' obviously he wanted some rolls'� she only hoped her stupidity would not annoy him'� 'I see you have two copper coins ' they will buy four rolls'�'� Her voice drifted into silence. She was still slightly in awe, having never seen someone so large before'� someone whom, she imagined, could break her in two with a mere touch.

Corran nodded when she asked him the question, almost shyly. He preferred to keep to himself, but there was something funny about this girl. He decided to keep up his deception that he always wore, playing the role of the large, awkward, rather stupid man. He found it usually kept enemies away, other than people afraid of his size.

He took the four small rolls into his titanic hands, the size difference making them look like a child's marbles. He took one, holding the other three in his left hand, and put it in his mouth, a feat a normal man would have difficulty with. The warm bread soothed his taste buds, and the aroma lulled him into a light state of ecstasy. A second one soon followed the first, and a third, and in little time at all there was only one left. He looked at it, then at her. Manners dictated that a man should not eat in front of a woman like that; at least that is what it had said in one of the books.

He looked back down at the bread roll, and his eyes tracked it as he held it out to her, offering her a thankful present. Perhaps she would even know of another job he might do to earn a little more money, maybe enough to buy more rolls. They did taste very good, and Corran wondered for a brief moment when he might get another taste of the wonderful food. Again, he gestured with the roll, handing it towards her, insisting she eat it.

And perhaps...she might even walk with him afterwards. Such a notion was silly, true, but it had been some time since man or woman had walked the street next to Corran Meranus without any hint of fear. However, it was also a stupid notion, she was out to sell rolls, and he would scare the customers away. He sighed silently to himself in thought while he still held onto the roll, the entire thought had taken less than a second before it reached conclusion.

But he could try anyways...

Alyson stared at the large man as he offered her his last roll. However, she could see the hunger in his eyes, and she knew the small rolls had probably not done much to ease it. Shaking her head, she smiled. "No, you eat it. I can tell you've gone longer without a meal than I."

--------------------

On an old hill overlooking the village two mounted figures sat astride their mounts, wrapped against the late-spring weather. Behind them a third horse stood, laden with heavy packs and long lances.

The lead figure was significantly taller than the second. He was dressed in the heavy mail coat of a journeying knight, over the top of it he wore a formerly white tabard, prominently emblazoned with the symbol of a crusading knight. At his side, hanging by a broad baldric, hung a heavy broadsword, the double bladed primary weapon of the mounted warrior. His face was set in a small scowl, somewhere between deep thought and distaste.

Hans looked down on the busy village below, trying to conjure up some memory of the area, of the village, he failed, like the rest of the land he had come through it meant nothing to him. Nothing except another squat and wet village in this cursed country.

Weeks ago he had welcomed the rain, seen it as a blessing and a welcome relief from the monotony of desert heat. Within days, the novelty had more than worn off and instead been replaced with cold hatred, cold being the operative word. The colder weather had more than irritated him, it had reawakened the aches of old and new injuries, had slowed his travel, had disrupted his sleep. It had also provided the cover for more than one group of ill-advised desperadoes, now rotting in the ditches their bodies had been consigned to. Right now, the given a choice between this soggy misery or the fiery sands of the holy land, those flesh stripping sands seemed positively benign. Added to his own misery was the concern for his now constantly sneezing squire.

The boy's life had become a great deal more burdensome with the rain and this new permutation of his life had only become more burdensome. Even wrapped against the weather and bundled against the temperature the boy had managed to catch this cold and had evidently been unable to shake it.

"We'll go in" Sir Hans announced, his voice brusque. The boy sneezed a reply. Hans lifted his helm back onto his head and spurred his forwards. Together the two of them rode down the hill, leading the spare mount, come baggage beast, behind them.

--------------------

The streets carried the rapidly familiarizing smell of these northern dwellings, a mix of damp earth and strange cooking. The locals may not have cooked with animal wastes as some people did nor did they seem to have taken the time to wash off any examples of it. The smell of fresh baked bread came as a welcome distraction, but by then the duo had been spotted.

The Knight and his trailing elements attracted more than a little attention. Not only did the village rarely see men wearing the crusading white and red, but this man was a prime example of why such were held in high regard. His big frame was seated in the saddle as if he had been born to it, his handsome face showing no sign of concern or indeed any other emotion at the gawping crowds.

Unerringly he led the way to the small village church and effortlessly dismounted as he arrived. Behind him the squire sighed his best 'not this again' sigh and followed suit, racing to catch up with his master.

Inside there was no sign of the local priest. This hardly bothered Hans; he had led more than one service himself, and in ruder places than this. Instead of waiting, he strode up the aisle to a place in front of the altar. With a guiding hand on his sword, he knelt and bowed his head beginning his prayers.

Romeo, his squire, shook his head just once before joining his master, knowing all to well that prayers were not something he would ever win an argument over.

For once he was excused the ordeal, "Go acquire some bread" the Crusader ordered, "The alms box is empty." Romeo had not even noticed that there was one, let alone that the bread that should have been in it for the poor was missing. He walked slowly out into the daylight.

It took only a matter of moments to find the baker girl, and the young boy quickly ran up, childlike single mindedness ignoring the bulky form of the man near her until its vast shadow obscured him.

"Err" he began, wide eyes looking more at the big soldier than the girl, "Me-lord wants som bread fer the poor box" he announced, finally turning to the girl carrying the bread, and only then noticing how pretty she was. "Whoa" he muttered, slicking back his hair and trying his cheeky smile. "Gotta be the best stuff" he explained, "or I'll get skelped. 'Is nibs don't like it when the poor get run on..."

"I have our freshest bread here with me," Alyson began, "two rolls for one copper coin."

"Great" Romeo replied with a smile. "I'll take a dozen. My boss will settle with you before he leaves," he added, holding out his hands for the rolls.

Alyson shook her head at the bold youth, "I am sorry, but my master does not allow me to give rolls on credit."

"Hey" Romeo protested, "you wanna doubt the word of my lord you really better have a good hard reason." The kid was actually quite put out, apparently not used to his badge not getting him what he wanted.

"But if you wanna meet him...." he added, looking over at the church and the three expensive horses outside.

Alyson's jaw dropped slightly at the sight of the horses, obviously the property of a knight. Tanner would have her hide if he caught her keeping a man of such circumstance waiting...

Turning to the tall, quiet man who seemed to be waiting patiently. "I must go; it was nice to have met you." She turned and quickly followed the youth. She knew men who achieved knighthood commanded great respect - and were often impatient.

Romeo led the pretty woman to the church; being sure to usher her in first (any allegations it was to get a look at her ass would be completely unfounded). Inside she could see the kneeling form of the squire's master, deep in prayer.

"Good boy," rumbled the man's deep voice, he still had not turned. "Place them in the alms box!" he commanded.

Alyson stood uncertainly in the back of the church, startled at the loudness of the knight's voice. She turned to the squire and pressed one finger to her lips, motioning with the other hand for him to take the requested rolls. Something told her it would be unwise to disturb the knight's prayers with demands of payment.

Romeo nodded and carried the rolls over to the box, unloading them one by one. He stopped at a dozen and turned to go back to the girl.

At the same time, Hans stood up, re-adjusting the heavy sword to his side as he went.

He turned and spotted the girl, his eyes briefly narrowed then widened, this was no time for suspicions like that. Instead, he offered a slight bow. "Hans von Grantz," he offered, introducing himself.

Having little experience with members of the upper classes, Alyson did her best to curtsey, bowing her head before the man in front of her. "Alyson Rolfe," she returned keeping her eyes fixed to the floor.

"I am in your way," he decided aloud, "forgive me." He swept his hand out, stepping to the side.

At that point, Romeo saved his boss from making a complete fool of himself by handing the girl back her tray.

Hans noticed the exchange and light finally dawned.
"You're the baker?" he asked.

Alyson quickly slipped the leather strap over her head, balancing the tray in her arms. "Only his servant, my lord." An indentured servant at that... she thought wryly.

"Oh," he replied, finally finishing his sums. "Perhaps it is better that I talk to you," he observed after a moments thought. "Can you tell me how it is that the alms box is empty?" he asked. In the background Romeo stiffened, he knew that tone and it meant that his master was in the mood to hurt someone.

Alyson did not know what to say. She knew her master had a bad habit of not sending bread to the church... and she knew that it was rarely an accident that he forgot. "I... am sure it was...a mistake..." she knew that as a servant, the blame would be laid at her feet should the knight question her master - so she decided to take the blame for him now, rather than feel the sting of her master's whip later. 'I must have forgotten to fill the box this morning, I ask your forgiveness, my lord."

For a long moment there was silence, Hans staring at the girl. "You are lying," he announced, his voice was not kind. "I urge you not to stain your soul further," he added, "I will give you one more chance to tell me the truth."

Alyson bit her lip, not sure what to say. But she dared not lie to this man again. "My master does not always choose to send loaves to the church," she whispered, her head bowed lower still.

"Well done," he replied his voice now holding a trace of warmth.

"Now you will lead me to your master," he added. His voice was once again hard, brooking no argument.

Alyson looked up at the knight, a glimpse of panic in her eyes, "Yes, my lord, if you will it."

---------------------

Corran followed the woman and the man to the church, having nothing else to do. Once there, he was surprised to see a Crusading knight inside, the colors of war (holy war, but war just the same) a rarity in these days. Perhaps, since the man was a brave man, and had faced fears even Hell itself had spat in his face, he might provide for him a short-term job, even if it was menial labor. Corran was used to such things.

He stepped in the way of the two as they made their exit, putting his massive hand on the knight's shoulder in a friendly manner, holding him in place firmly yet gently. His voice was of a deep sweet bass, but soft as the wind's kiss upon a rose petal.

"Kind Sir, please, wait thee a moment whither yon go. I beseech thee, on behalf of myself and my sake, that I might takest care of thine horses or be thy servant for some meager wage while thee rests in thy humble town. Verily I say unto thee, sir, I art stronger than ten men, and can do any task thou bidst me to do, for all I wish, all I want for is coins, small change in money that I might buy a meal to slake my hunger."

It was half expected for his English to be the sort of Cockney-slang that most everyone else spoke, but instead his words were buttered to those of fine noblemen, and he hoped that they touched the knight's heart as he heard them.

The hand that was not on the man's shoulder silently fingered in his pocket around the roll that he had neglected to eat, finding a silver coin, and two smaller copper coins. That was enough to buy another loaf, maybe. After that...he didn't know.

"You are a brave man indeed, commoner to lay your hands on a knight," the Crusader replied in a steely tone. Inside he was thankful that the giant had chosen to do so out of the view of others, he did not relish having to whip the man. It was all too likely to lead to a fight and there was little honor in slaying the feeble minded.

"As it happens I may indeed have use for your services," he continued as the giant dropped the arm. "Follow me!" he ordered, striding on after the girl. He did not bother to look back behind him as he went, either the man would do as he was told or not, there was no call to doubt him yet.

As they approached the bakers, Hans called to the girl, stopping her. "No further lass" he ordered "you had best be on your way" He knew only too well the minds of petty men and how their unjustified ire could easily fall on the most vulnerable in society. Having the lass there to watch would not help her unfortunate position one bit.

"And you," he added turning to the giant, "Wait outwith. There should be no need for your services inside," he added, but there was a fire in his eyes that any could see predicting imminent violence. Once again, without checking the commoner's obedience the knight pushed his way into the shop.

"OoooH" Romeo, his squire, muttered, "Wouldn't want to be that guy. Let's hope he don't try to feather the line." Romeo knew only too well just how violent his master got and how nasty the justice that the man meted out could get, the memories of dead bandits still fresh in his mind, along with the kicking feet of the boy-bandit as the noose had throttled him.

"He was old enough to hear the scriptures; he was old enough to know he did wrong!" Hans had pronounced, impassively watching the twelve year old kick out the last moments of his life. "By the smock he wears he and his ilk have preyed upon pilgrims, perhaps in these last moments he will seek redemption.'�

"Pretty hard to seek redemption when your neck's stretching," Romeo muttered, rubbing his own throat. There was no way this was going to be pretty.

---------------------

Tanner the baker looked up from his oven, turning to see who had entered his shop. If it were that lazy girl, he would flay the hide from her'�.

However, it was not. Instead, it was a rich looking knight. Tanner's habitual scowl made way for an obsequious smile. Only then did he start adding up what the tabard and scowl might mean.

"Tanner the baker?" Hans asked his voice steel. The rat-faced man nodded, clearly uncomfortable where this was headed. "You are the only baker in the village?" the knight asked, closing the distance between them.

"Aye," Tanner replied, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.

"Then it is for you to tell me why the poor box was empty," Hans accused. The look of panic that crossed the baker's face was unmistakable.

"The girl," he stammered, "It's her fault, she steals the bread she does," the baker attempted, his fear soon giving way to a familiar rant. "After all I have done for-" He was cut off by a mailed fist knocking him from his feet, and separating several of his teeth in the process. The baker bounced off his oven and hit the ground hard.

"Liar," Hans stated, following the man across the small shop.

"No," the baker lied, "it was her she's no good, she-" Once more he was cut off, this time by the handle of one of his baker's paddles. It struck him across the other side of the face and propelled him into the wall. For the moment he lay there, still.

"Grit?" demanded Hans, his mailed fist sifting trough the flour by the oven "You grit you bread?" The practice was common enough among poor bakers in bad years, a way to make loaves go further for the penny, but this was neither a bad year nor a poor man. "You steal from your fellows as well as the church!"

"Not me, lord," the baker begged "It was the girl..." Once more he was cut off, this time by the expedient of being lifted by the scruff of the neck and thrown through his wooden table. As he lay there in the wreckage, feeling the trickle of his own blood, he saw the knight find something else and his fear rose all the further.

"And a quoit?" the knight demanded, pulling down the rude whip from its stand. "You use this?" he demanded.

"The girl," the baker began, only to be cut off by a swiftly delivered boot to his midsection. Again he was lifted and again he was thrown, this time crashing through his door.

Outside the bakery, a small crowd had gathered, drawn by the sounds of violence from within. They recoiled in horror as the beaten and bloody form of the baker blasted through his door and fell into the wreckage of it. Behind him came the knight, fists clenched in cold fury. As the baker tried to stand Hans knocked him down again, buckling a rib or two in the process. "Thief!" he accused.

Another kick and the baker was driven out into the square "Liar!"

Again the blubbering man was lifted, this time to be bounced off the well-side, "Apostate!"

Behind the pair the crowd fell in, watching in rapt horror as one of their own was beaten like a dog. Right across the square they went, the baker crawling or being kicked all the way, leaving a red spotted trail behind him. Finally, they reached the edge of the common and Hans looked up. His eyes alighted upon the maypole, still standing from the festivities.

"Giant" he called, summoning the man. "Strip him and carry him to the pole," he ordered, gesturing at the brightly colored centerpiece. With one last kick into the side of the now blubbing baker he turned on his heel and returned to the bakery.

He was soon back, carrying the whip he had earlier discovered.

"Seize him up" he ordered, and the man was raised to his feet. Hans then proceeded to tie the bleeding baker's hands with the whip. The other end of the whip was thrown up and around the pole.

With a heave the naked and bloody baker was hauled to his feet, and up onto his toes. Then Hans tied off the impromptu bindings, leaving the man stretched out on tip-toe with his hands bound over his head.

"Hear me!" he announced the gathered crowd "This man has stolen from you and the church. He is now paying the penalty. God alone shall release him from his punishment; let no man intervene lest they share his fate." With that he turned on his heel and headed back towards the bakery, stopping only once to order a villager to run to tell the lord how and why the baker had been punished. Behind him the baker's naked and bloody form began its long punishment, sentenced to a painful inglorious end standing in its own filth.

In his mind he knew the punishment to be just. The next rains would loosen the man's bonds enough to allow him to escape. Of course, if those rains failed to come he would die there. If the quoit was soaked with blood from over use then it would not expand with the rain, instead contracting in the sunlight, causing the man's hands to swell and sealing his fate. Finally, if any man was enough of a friend to the reprobate to risk life and soul to save him then they might, but the simple truth was that Hans doubted a creature such as he had any friends.

"Girl" he said, spotting the baker's servant, who had clearly seen the entire thing, "gather your things!" he ordered, apparently oblivious to the blood that splattered his form.

Alyson gasped, in a matter of moments her entire world had come crashing down around her. The baker ' her master ' the man who had controlled every waking moment of her life, now hung helplessly from a pole.

Her head jerked up at the commanding sound of the knight's voice. She approached him warily; unsure whether to worship him as her savior or cower from him as her new master...

'I...I...'� she began hesitantly. She did not know how to tell him ' she had no belongings other than the worn dress she was wearing.

"What?" Hans asked, his voice still harsh, unable to comprehend what her problem was.

Alyson took a breath, and stood up straight, a subtle courage suddenly coursing through her. 'I have no belongings, Sir, aside from what you see before you.'�

"What?" he asked, deflating and confused. "How?"

"She's a bondservant, Sir" offered Romeo, clarifying the situation.

"What?" Hans asked, the details of such things only slowly forcing their way through his mind. "Well not any more!" he announced.

"Give her some coin that she might return to her family" Hans ordered the boy.

Alyson shook her head, pressing the coins back into Romeo's hand. She looked back towards Hans, speaking with a boldness that surprised her and shocked the crowd who were still listening. 'I have been an indentured servant for seven years, Sir, I... have had little need for worldly treasures,'� Alyson replied, still struggling with the idea that perhaps her indenture was over. 'I am grateful for your kindness in freeing me, but I will ask for no further favor.'� She bowed her head and curtseyed the best she could.

"What?" Hans asked, confused again. Suddenly one option came to mind, a misunderstanding of the word favor, and his face blushed bright red. "No ma'am" he asserted, "I meant nothing like that!"

Still blushing he continued "I merely meant that you would need wherewithal to return to your family."

Meanwhile Romeo quietly pocketed the coins.

Now it was Alyson's turn to blush, 'I...did not mean...to imply...'� she stammered, staring at the ground. 'Sir, I only meant that I could not accept your money. I will find my way. As for family... I... do not even know if they are still alive.'�

"What?" Hans asked, having really lost the thread of this. "Then where will you go?" he asked. "You cannot stay here," he added, knowing only too well how fast the village might turn on the maid.

Alyson looked around, seeing on the faces of the villagers she had grown up with: shock, disbelief, anger, and more than a few looks from some of the men folk that made her shudder. 'I do not know what to do...'� Alyson suddenly said quietly. A pit began to form in her stomach, a knot of fear. She had lost the only life she had ever known ' and as hard as it had been, she did not know how to live without it. 'I have no where to go,'� she added, fighting to keep the desperation out of her voice as she looked up at her rescuer.

"Then you will come with me!" Hans ordered. "Until such a time as we can find you a post suitable for your skills you will accompany me as my servant!" His voice had regained its determination; it was obvious that he would brook no refusal. There was no way on God's green earth he was allowing an innocent maid like this to brave the wide world alone.

As he began striding off Romeo turned to the girl, "Romeo" he said, sticking out his hand, "Squire to Sir Hans von Grantz, knight Crusader and Baronet of Bedford."

Alyson looked at Romeo's hand uncertainly for a moment, then reached out and shook it lightly. 'I am Alyson...'� She watched the strong back of Hans as he walked ahead of them, 'Have...have you served Sir Grantz long?'� she asked as they walked together.

"Two years" Romeo offered with what he hoped was a winning smile. "Picked me outa a slave market in Acre" he explained. "Now I'm gonna be a knight like him see."

Alyson smiled shyly in return, she was unused to speaking to anyone this familiarly. 'I am sure you will make a fine knight. I... can only hope that my future will be as promising.'�

"Course it will" Romeo assured her, "You're with him now and he can walk through a cesspool and still come up smellin' o roses." He didn't add that Hans would put such down to divine protection, and that it was more often than not the knight's fault that he was in the cesspool in the first place. He didn't want to put the pretty maid off yet.

"Now how's about since he won't be needin it no more we have a quick look inside and see what the baker's left for us," Romeo suggested with a mischievous twinkle, revealing perhaps a little of how he had ended up in that market in the first place.

Alyson's jaw dropped, 'Isn't that thievery?'� she asked, remembering how Hans had reacted to her former master.

"Nah" Romeo asserted, "The bastard owes you for the quoit. Just don't let the boss see us...."

Alyson frowned at the memory of the sting of the quoit; some scars would take longer to heal than others... She bit her lip nervously, then nodded; 'If you are sure it will be all right...'�

Romeo nodded with a smile. Suddenly the squire was jerked backwards and thrown to the ground. While they had been talking, Hans had stopped and it appeared he had overheard. "I will not have you corrupting this lady!" he commanded, "Do not make me take my belt to you boy!"

"As for you" he said rounding on the girl. "I have no knowledge of why you were oath bound but you would do well to remember the virtues you were born with!"

Alyson only stared at Hans wide-eyed. He had called her a lady. And while he surely did not mean anything other than that she was a woman... it struck her that 'wench' or 'useless girl' had been the only terms she was used to hearing in regards to herself. 'Yes, Sir,'� she could only whisper, almost cowering before the powerful man.

Hans's face broke into a smile, "Good girl," he said apparently unsure how to address her properly. "That's settled then," he announced to the world at large.

"Now all we need is a place to sleep," he continued, only to cut himself off in another bout of blushing, "separately," he added hurriedly, "not together, I didn't mean that!"
It was obvious that for all his apparent callousness this man had little or no experience with females.

"Any ideas?" he asked head a little bowed.

Alyson, still slightly scared of the man, took his words as an order to speak up. 'We...have but one inn in town. It is not far...'� her voice trailed off. 'Would you like me to lead you there, Sir?'�

"Yes!" the knight announced, pleased that the girl had come up with a solution. He really could not be bothered to ride any more today, and seeking the local lord for his hospitality seemed a lot more effort than it was worth. "Lead on," he said, leading the way to the horses first.

Alyson raised an eyebrow as the knight mounted his horse; they were still being guarded by the apparently friendly giant of a man she had met earlier that day. The inn was only a few buildings down the street, and riding was not really necessary for such a short distance, in her mind. However, she had no desire to question anything her new master did, so she obediently began walking towards the inn, inclining her head towards the worn wooden sign that hung over the inn's door when they drew close. Hans had motioned for the large man to follow them, so they reached the inn a group now of four. 'Here we are, Sir.'�

"Great," he said handing his reigns to Romeo. "Clean them down and make sure they are comfortable," he ordered the boy. "Girl, go and secure lodgings and some hot food for all of us." Finally, he turned to the giant "well done today," he added, "drink time," he concluded, following the girl into the inn and finding a table with enough chairs for his party.

It was only after he sat down that he realized just how much bigger the group was now than it had been this morning. "How does this keep happening to me?" he wondered out loud.

Alyson entered the inn, and immediately sought out the innkeeper. 'My master requires lodgings, three rooms, and hot food for four.'� She guessed at the number of rooms, figuring Hans would prefer private lodgings and the other men could share, while she would have her own room.

The innkeeper grinned, delighted at the prospect of new business, quickly ordering his wife to tend to the guests. He then smirked at Alyson. 'Moving up in the world are we?'� he said slowly, stepping forward.

Alyson's eyes widened and she stepped back against the wall. 'Please... my master will be wondering where I am...'�

The innkeeper reached up and took hold of her shoulder. 'Of course... a fine prize for a man of his stature...'�

Alyson flushed pink at the man's words, but she was tired of being treated like an object. Swiftly she kicked the man hard in the groin, causing him to groan and fall to the floor. Hoping that she would not be punished too harshly, she returned to her new master.

'Sir...I must confess...'�

"What?" Hans asked confused again, did she think he was a priest?

'I... believe I have injured our host...'� she nodded towards the wall near the door where the innkeeper was trying to get back on his feet. 'He...was...I mean...'� she blushed, finding it hard to explain.

"Speak" Hans ordered, his mind conjuring all sorts of evils that the girl might be responsible for.

Alyson nodded, and held her head up, 'The innkeeper was behaving inappropriately towards me...and so I kicked him,'� she replied, a firm tone in her voice that showed no remorse.

"Inappropriately?" Hans asked, his face darkening, her nod to the question was all he needed to know. His face set back into its hard mask. "You are a servant, you had no right to strike him," the knight chided far from kindly. "You will apologize to him," he ordered adding steel to his voice. "But first he and I shall discuss some manners," he added, "Come when I call," he finished, heading back the way she had come.

Shortly later the sound of a head banging off of a wall could be heard along with the words "You do not treat women like that!" repeated before each thump.

"Girl!" Hans called, pushing the man before him. Even across the room, she could see the reddened imprints of where his head had been battered.

"I'm sorry miss," the fat man blubbed, "I was wrong!"

"Now your turn," Hans ordered.

Alyson came quickly, keeping her head respectfully down as befitted her rank as a servant. 'I am sorry for striking you, sir,'� she said obediently, doing her best to be sincere. She felt a strange urge to please her new master, knowing that so far he had treated her fairly, expecting only what was proper and right from everyone he encountered.

"There," Hans said happily "All resolved," he added, apparently sincere. "Now barkeep," he continued, "The lady asked you to sort some things for us. You were about to make sure they happened. I don't think you want to disappoint again?"

As the man bustled off he turned back to the girl, "what do you drink?" he asked, apparently really unsure.

Alyson looked at him wide-eyed for a moment before replying, 'Sir,'� she began slowly, 'I am used to drinking water from the rain barrel... I will drink whatever you think best.'�

A feeling of cold dread settled into Hans's stomach, this was exactly the sort of thing he had Romeo around for. What on Earth was he going to do now? He had no idea what girls drank.
"Hang it," he muttered. "Number one Ale times four," he ordered from the barmaid before leading Alyson over to the table and pulling out a chair for her.

Alyson took the offered seat, and did her best not to look uncomfortable. Truth be told ' she would have preferred it if he had ordered her to go eat in the kitchens. She fervently hoped the others would return from taking care of the horses soon.

---------------------

Later that night...

A very large dark shadow moved through the streets, trying not to be heard or seen by anyone of any importance. A small, sharp tool nestled in the man's fist, picked carefully from the ones on the wall in the stable. It was rather dull, but it would suit Corran's needs. Or rather, the needs of another.

The events of the day had weighed heavily on the man's mind. On one hand, he had done terrible deeds in his life, murdered, pillaged, burned, (never rape, that was one thing he was against, as well as owning a slave, however these things failed to notice his attention) and otherwise tortured men of all kinds, so the turn of events should have meant little to him. But to the knight they should have meant more. Corran wasn't exactly sure he was in service to the kindest of men, but he had good intentions at heart, protecting the innocent and preserving what was right. However, from the eyes of man, what is just and fair can become quite skewed.

The figure stepped out into the town square, gazing at the naked form palely glistening in the moonlight. Corran dared to step out into the open, towards the man, and managed to trip on something, waking the man. He saw the glint of the tool in his hand, and mistook it for a weapon, his murder for his sins by a grudging commoner.

"P-please, don't 'urt me!! I swears, I won't do nuthin' more!"

"Quiet. Nobody is going to get hurt."

The man shut up, partly out of fear, partly out of curiosity. Corran took the man's tied hands and cut the bonds with the tool, catching the man as his weak legs gave out from under him, having to stand all day in the hot sun. Almost as if on cue, the man went unconscious, the blood flowing away from into his body and finally into his legs, something Corran learned from his books. He picked the man up, what seemed like a rag doll to him, and carried him back to the bakery, setting him down on one of the beds within. The man had dried blood all over him, and Corran fetched a cloth, soaking it in the rain barrel. The big man returned, washing off the crusted blood gently, the cold water shocking the man back to consciousness.

For a long time, nothing was said. Corran kept cleaning him, and the man was silent, watching him as he worked, a sense of awe and thanks building in him. In moments, Corran finished, and spread one of the blankets at the foot of the bed over him, making sure he was warm. It was as Corran was walking out the door that the man finally spoke, in a sort of whisper that Corran could barely hear.

"Why?"

He was stopped dead in his tracks. Honestly, there was no real reason he had done it. Pity, partly, but otherwise he could not describe the feeling. Although a semi-learned man, he had never read the Bible, but from what he had heard from wandering clergy, it promoted forgiveness, not punishment. Corran turned around, meeting the man eye-to-eye.

"Because man's sins canst never mount to such great peaks that they art undeserving another chance in life. It wouldst do thou well to remember this."

"I thank you...sir..."

The phrase was even smaller than the original question had been, as if he had been humbled by God himself.

"Just keepest thou quiet about who didst set thee free from thy sins."

With that, Corran left the bakery, hopefully for the last time. What he said was almost ironic, in that Jesus sets people free from their sins, not Corran Meranus, but it fit the purpose anyways. It was very late, and he was losing sleep. He returned to the Inn, put the tool back where it once was, and quietly slipped back into his room to sleep until the morning came and brought back his memories.

And before he knew it, his eyes were closed and the sweet releasing emptiness rolled him over softly into the realm of dreams.

---------------------

The Next Morning

Hans von Grantz was more than a little upset. No, he was downright furious. As he had awoken with the dawn for morning prayers, his squire had brought him some terrible news, his judgment had been defied.

He stormed out into the morning air, his breath steaming around him like a bull to the chase. Behind him his squire trailed, fear on his face. Hans' first stop was the blacksmith. The man was rudely kicked from his bed and made to hand over some chain.

The next stop was the bakery. The thief was rudely dragged from his bed and thrown to the floor. One look at the fiery visage of his tormentor told him all he needed to know, Hans kicked him anyway. With the chain half-balled around his wrist Hans flogged the cowardly maggot from his hovel and back into the square.

As chain and boot lashed in, the wounds of the previous day reopened along with fresh wheals of scarlet from the chain. This time Tanner's courage was completely broken, he whimpered, he begged and he pleaded. He told Hans what he wanted to know.

"Thou shalt not defy the lord thy god!" Hans replied, dragging the man by his hair back to the post. "I gave you a chance and you spurned it. Now your life is forfeit!" One look at the cut ends of the whip provided all the proof Hans needed to confirm what he had been told.

With a shake of his head, Hans slung the chain into place, hoisting the whimpering man back into position. "Consider your sins," he advised, grabbing the man's terrified face so he was forced to look into the knight's eyes.

"I pronounced judgment on this man," Hans announced, loud enough for every villager to hear. "One fool chose to ignore my warnings. When I find that person he will pay the price! This man chose to try to escape his just desserts, pervert the course of divine justice. Now he pays for his arrogance. He dies here! Unshriven, unmourned, doomed to Hell for his Hubris. Pray not for him, for he is lost. Pray for yourselves for you have nestled a viper among you!"

With that he strode back to the inn, stopping at the front door. "Romeo," he ordered, "gather the girl and our things. Send the giant to me." Then he turned on his heel and went to the church, his prayers were overdue.

---------------------

Alyson awoke to the sun streaming in through a crack in the dark curtain that hung over the window in her room. She sat up quickly, only to wince and let her head fall back onto her pillow. Her head was throbbing in pain. Only vaguely could she remember the night before... things got a little fuzzy after dinner... Must have been the ale... she thought with a groan. Inexperience meant she had not known the effects alcohol would have on her body.

With a stifled moan, she forced herself out of bed and into her dress. She poured cold water from a pitcher into the bowl provided and splashed her face. Surely this pain won't last long... she hoped.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Alyson winced as the rough sound battered her already aching head. 'Come in,'� she said quietly, rubbing her temples.

"Morning" announced Romeo, cheerfully pushing his way into the room. He was somewhat disappointed not to catch Alyson in bed, but there was time yet.

"Boss wants to leave early-like," he informed her, his eyes studying her form to see what was wrong with her. "He's got some appointment at the palace or somint and wants to get there soon as."

Alyson nodded, walking towards the door carefully. 'The palace? Oh... my head...'� she gasped. 'What's wrong with me?'� She turned to Romeo, 'I felt fine last night...'�

"My girl" the amorous squire offered, wrapping his arm around the hung over maid, "You have a hangover," he announced. "The common effect of an evening with our master in the pub I fear," he added ruefully.

"I am afraid the only cure is either more ale," he paused for effect, watching the girl pale at the thought, "or fresh air and food," he finished. "Now we really should be going, the boss won't be long with Corran."

Alyson shrugged out from under his arm, a frown forming on her face, 'What does he want with Corran?'� she asked. She did not want to think about food... or ale... for a very long time.

"The big guy snuck out of our room last night and let the idiot baker go," Romeo answered angrily, completely missing the effect that this might have on the girl.

'He WHAT?'� she gasped, not noticing how high pitched her voice began to get. 'He... I...'� She stopped abruptly, grabbing onto Romeo's arm. 'Will I have to go back?'� she asked, fear stabbing like a knife to her heart.

"Nah," Romeo said, his back still turned throwing the covers back into place on the bed. "The boss dragged weasel-face outa-bed this mornin' and put him back on the post."

"Beat him right proper this time," Romeo added, a touch of fear in his voice, "won't see the morning I'll wager."

Finally he turned around to catch his first look at the girl since the revelation and the penny dropped. "Oh sheesh!" he cursed "I'm sorry, I never thought," he offered, genuinely apologetic. Then more firmly he added, "Even if he hadn't decided to whup the git I swear we wouldn't o' let you go back to that asshole!"

"Pardon my French," he added as an afterthought.

His last remark, now that she knew her fears were unfounded, finally brought a smile to Alyson's face. 'I am used to coarser language than that... my mas... the baker had a horrible mouth when he was angry. After all... I'm not a lady.'� The last phrase was more of a thought to herself, as she mused at the change in her position. A bond-slave she was not, but freedom would not make her the lady in her dreams.

"Not yet," Romeo argued, "but the boss, well he has a way o' making better people outa folk. I wouldn't dump all your dreams o' ball gowns just yet. After all," he added, brushing a curl from her face in his best imitation of smooth, "I was a slave afore I was 'is squire. Now I am going to be a knight!" he finished proudly.

Alyson only smiled softly and motioned to the door, 'We better get going, I am sure Sir von Grantz does not like to be kept waiting.

"Oh crap!" he swore, thinking of how much time had passed. Only after he had bundled himself out into the corridor did he stop to turn and shout "pardon me French!" again before all but falling down the stairs.

Alyson could not stop herself from laughing, so she held her hand over her face in a vain attempt to disguise it. Soon enough, the pair was walking out the front door, ready to face a new day. Only later would it occur to her how long it had been since she had truly laughed...

---------------------

Corran thought about mainly what he had done as he was summoned. He knew exactly why he was being summoned, and he resented it. If the knight truly served God, then Corran felt he should have given the baker another chance, and not left him there to die. He finally reached the knight, and his stomach flopped. He had courage; he just did not wish to dislike the man. It was the first man in a long time to actually tolerate his presence, much less not be intimidated by it.

"Thou summoned me, sir?"

Hans was once more kneeling in prayer. He had heard the approaching heavy footsteps and taken the time to collect his thoughts. Slowly he stood and turned around.

"Yes I called you here," he agreed with steel in his voice. "I wished to talk about your past."

Corran was a bit confused, as he expected to be berated for his deed. The knight had, after all, punished a man, and by divine right he should have had to suffer. The law of the church said he spoke for God, but Corran knew no man could rightfully speak for a God...

"Mine past is quite the long story, lordship, and 'tis full of sins and suff'ring. What wouldst thou know?"

"You have seen much hardship then?" Hans asked. "I suppose you must have," he concluded, not needing to expound. "I am also sure that in your time you will have seen the necessity of justice."

"I have borne witness to such times as those, yes."

"And you will be aware that dire consequences rightly fall upon those who try to pervert that justice?" Hans asked, warily stepping to make room, this was the crux point, if the giant took exception now, blood would be shed, which was why Hans had chosen the church as their meeting place.

Corran paused, looking deep into the man's eyes. He had heard from a wise man once that if you stared deeply enough into someone's eyes, you could see their soul. Corran wasn't sure this was true, but as he looked, he knew the knight meant him no ill will. It was his actions, wrong as they were, not him, that concerned the knight, and for that Corran was gracious.

"Yes, your lordship, I fully understandeth thy meaning. Thou referest to the Baker. Last night I freed the poor man. If this thou callest a perversion, then one of the two here is in misunderstanding, either of the other or the ways of life. Misunderstandings, however, canst rightfully be fixed through faith in the Lord and through repentance. All sins art forgiven in this manner. Including the sins of yon Baker, which I see hast thou again punished over mine actions."

"You are wrong!" insisted Hans "The baker was given his chance. And his punishment was fitting, his life in God's hands. That you chose to come between that does not speak highly of you!" He insisted, he was obviously quite irate now. "However, that you have chosen freely to admit your action in the lord's house does," he added, deflating a little.

"In return, I will give you a choice," Hans began, his voice cold and hard. "You will take up the badge, and serve the church for a time, seeking redemption. You will follow where I lead and try to find peace within yourself as well as your way back to god."

"Either that or you will leave this land, never to return. Choosing instead to dwell in the wild lands with the low and the sinful. Your choice" he finished.

Corran seriously considered for a moment to take the second option. Reckless punishment on an excuse that God commanded made one little more than a bully, though again he had good intentions in mind.

"Sir, allow me to speaketh freely on this matter, and converse as if we were equals."

"That is impossible," Hans replied. "It is one thing we will never be. By divine pattern we were born the ranks we are, and it never will do to forget that."

"I have to ask you for an answer," he prompted.

Honestly, Corran was a bit hurt. His rank in society had been brought up again; it was one thing he never liked. He had been brought up from a mere commoner to a mercenary soldier, and never had he liked the order others felt they were in. Always he desired for people to move freely through the ranks as they please, according to ambition and desire, but as he had come to see time and time again, it would never be so.

"I choose to serveth my penance with God, on one request: That yon Baker be unscathed further. He hath serveth his penance long past its due. Can thou agree to that?"

"Again I cannot agree," Hans said, genuinely rueful, "Without an act of penance the man cannot be released from his punishment. He has not only robbed the poor of this village, stealing food from their mouths, but also the church. I am afraid that I cannot break my oath to defend her, not even if it costs you your soul."

"Then as my first act in service to the all mighty One, allow me to decide his fate,'� Corran tried again.

"What do you have in mind?" Hans asked, warily.

Corran thought a long moment. There was the matter of the girl, she obviously wished to be free of the town and into better parts of the world, and in order to free her, the man must be made a criminal. "He shouldst do the work of his former servant, baking and serving bread to the poor for two fortnights. Half of his produce should go to the Church, the other half to the poor for free. He can live as she did, off of table scraps and beggar's money when he is not working, and a guard should be sent round every fortnight hereafter to see that he is using pure flour."

"If this is not suitable, I asketh then that the man be not harmed further. Violence begets only violence, sir Knight,'� Corran finished. 'And as to your question, I accepteth thy first offer, regardless of terms. I feel you may be in need of me, whether you know it or not."

"By rights the man's life is forfeit," Hans replied, "as by rights should be yours.'� He held up a hand to forestall comment. "However, you have pleaded for clemency, we shall see what can be done. As for your odd views on violence," Hans added, walking past the man, "I only wish that were true. As men it would be far worse to stand by and not do harm to those that deserve it."

"I believeth quite differently, sir knight. Man sinneth innately, and since we are filled with sin, I believe no man can interpret fully the will of God. The Clergy tell us to forgive our neighbor of their sins, yet are we to be so bold as to not grant this man forgiveness?" Corran paused a moment, truly comprehending what he had said, and quickly started again.

"Forgive my tongue, sir, for when I am passionate it has a tendency to snake away from my control."

"You have much to learn of the ways of faith," Hans said, unaware of how patronizing it sounded. In his mind he knew he could explain more, how he could no more absolve that man than any villager, how letting him off would be tantamount to stealing himself, but he held his tongue. "Now let us see what God has decided for the baker."

"Yes, your lordship."

Corran followed the man, curious as to what his new adventure would bring him.

The two of them strode out into the yard, and over to the bloodstained post, so recently used for merriment, now bearing a more sanguine purpose. Even before they arrived they could not help but note the way the man's body was slumped.

Indeed, when they arrived Tanner's eyes were already staring fixedly at the sky.

"God has given us his answer," Hans pronounced. Then he turned on his heel and headed back towards the church to reclaim his prayer book.

---------------------

Hans walked out of the church and into the open air, the conversation with the Giant (whose name he had once more lost) had gone less than well, but at least no violence had been done.

"Romeo!" he called, only to find the puffing boy already appearing around the building with the horses. They had obviously been packed in haste, and the weight was less than centered. "We will need a cart!" Hans ordered, somewhat reluctantly, the delay was not welcome.

"A cart?" Romeo asked.

"We have two new members," Hans reminded him, "and I doubt either they or the horses would appreciate the fast pace from the saddle." Both of them were acutely aware of how uncomfortable even borrowing a saddle was, let alone riding on one at pace without a correctly done rig.

"Okay boss," Romeo offered, "think I saw a broken down post wagon behind the inn last night." Hans remembered it too, it would have to do.

"Fine get it going, press the innkeeper and the blacksmith into helping if you must. But hurry!" Hans ordered. He hoped that Corran would help but was not going to push the man any further, he had been quite angry as they had 'talked' this morning. Even having become so used to scorn as the giant seemed to be, the man's pride would re-assert sooner or later, and there was no profit in starting a fight.

While the squire hurried off to start the process, Hans began unpacking the horses again. With care he lowered the heavy packages containing the gear and spoils he had brought back from the Crusade, making sure to recover the emblazoned breastplate where it had become revealed.

"Girl, lend a hand tacking the nags!" he ordered seeing the maid appear from the inn with their food. The local horses would have to do, at least until they hit the Royal road and it's post houses. He could have put his own steeds into the halter, but the truth was that there was no way he would diminish the proud animals like that.

It took a seeming eternity to finally get ready. With every passing moment Hans was aware of his need to hurry. If he didn't catch the king before he left Southern Haven he would be forced to trail after him. Which in turn would mean more wasted time and more frustration. If they hurried they might still make it today, if not, the king might be finished with his new ship.....

"Hurry!" he shouted, only to find the repaired and loaded cart already arriving.

They set off westwards soon after, heading for Southern Haven and their appointment with destiny.

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