Joedan tied both horses to a nearby tree while he got to work removing the saddles. Taking out a brush, he got to work brushing down the horses. Once, done with that he grabbed the tent from their pack and got to work assembling it.
That task finished, he pulled out his longsword, bending his knees slightly, he raised the sword up and tightened his grip on the sword. Taking a tentative swing, he struck down. Bringing the sword back up, he repeated the strike. Changing it up, he swung from the left to the right, and then the right to the left. Varying between the three different strikes, this was the sight the commander was greeted with upon his return. Tossing the fresh kill down to the ground, the commander set down his bow and continued to watch Joedan work through the various sword forms.
"Your feet are too close together." Joedan was caught by surprise and stumbled. Turning to the commander, he lowered his sword.
"Did I say stop?" the commander asked gruffly.
"Widen your feet, shoulder width apart."
"Good, bend your knees a little. Square your shoulders back." Joedan complied, trying his best to follow the commander's instructions. "You'll tire yourself out doing all the swinging with your arms."
"Sword fighting is a full body exercise." Working together with the commander, they worked a little later into the evening before the commander said that's enough. He told Joedan to go gather some wood for a small fire and got to work cleaning the fresh kill. As the fire grew, the commander set the meat across the fire. Watching it start to brown and drip, Joedan's mouth began to water.
With the meat done, the commander grabbed it from the fire and started to tear into it. Not offering any to Joedan. Joedan's face fell. Was the commander really just going to eat in front of him without offering any? Just as Joedan was resigning himself to that truth. The commander broke off a piece and threw it to him.
"From here on out, we will take turns. If you don't manage to hunt anything, we won't eat." Joedan chewed slowly as he gulped. "I have not hunted with a bow before."
The commander smiled, "I know."
With that parting thought, the commander stood making his way to the tent. "You have first watch."
Joedan sat watching the flames dance from their small fire. Sword resting beside him. "At least, I'm not in a jail cell anymore," he thought to himself. Nervous for their upcoming journey, Joedan wondered what would be waiting for them when they finally made it back to his home. What would his family say when they saw him again? What would Amelia think when she realised he was gone? As he looked up to the stars, he offered a quiet prayer. Setting his eyes back on the fire once again, Joedan settled in for the rest of his watch.
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"Is it true?" Amelia asked. "Father, is it true?" she repeated.
The duke sat in his chambers. His daughter had just stormed in. He had to admit, he expected this reaction even before it happened.
"And what are you referring to this time, daughter?" the duke asked back, not giving away anything.
She glowered at him. Knowing darn right, he knew exactly what she was referring to. Tapping her foot with her arms crossed she stared right at her father, waiting.
"Amelia, I tire of your games, speak your piece or leave. I have many tasks and do not have time for this," the duke said, looking back down at his desk as he continued to read the document he had been working on before his daughter stormed in.
With a sigh, Amelia spoke, "Joedan. He's not in his cell."
Her father continued to scan over the document on his desk, not stopping to answer her question. He was so infuriating sometimes. Why did he have to be so stubborn? She knew it was because they were so alike, even though she would never admit it.
"Do you know where he is?" she asked sweetly. Maybe a change in tactic would bear better results, she thought to herself.
"I do," he said as he set the document down and sat back folding his hands across his lap. He pointed with his hand to the seat to his daughter's left. She relented and sat down. "I have given him and another a task. Once, they have completed this task, they will return."
"Well what task did you assign him? And who is he with?" she asked.
"He is with Commander Griff," that was all the duke said.
"Commander Griff?" Amelia asked. "And the task?"
"As to the task that is all I will tell you, my dearest."
She sighed once again. She knew this was the end of the conversation. Her father would not budge, no matter how hard she pushed. Giving him one last look, she stood. "Daughter, it is only to protect you. Most of what I do is to ensure your safety."
A tear came to her eye, she wasn't a fancy, fragile little girl anymore. She wanted her father to see she was a strong woman capable of protecting herself. With effort to keep her tear from falling, she took one last look at her father before she turned and walked out of the door.
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The count stood in his office. The glass in his hand shattered. He tossed the pieces at the wall. Henry, his faithful driver, off to his left, motionless. "That stupid duke…" The count paced back and forth stroking his chin. He could admit to himself that the duke had surprised him. He didn't expect the duke to be this clever.
"Nevertheless, I have contingencies in place. I can shift some different pieces on the board," he muttered to himself.
"Henry," the count spoke. Henry approached Reginald. "Find me Ralph, I have decided what his redemption will be."
Henry turned and left the count in his office. The count turned back towards the window. It was a simple problem to solve. "Now that the commander is with him, I can handle two problems."
Ralph entered the room, followed by Henry. Reginald waved his hand to the seat before his desk, prompting Ralph to take a seat. Taking a seat himself, the count sat back in his chair. His familiar scowl sat upon his face. Shifting to a smile, the count looked down at Ralph's hand.
"How's the hand?"
Ralph bit down his anger. Keeping his mouth shut, he stayed quiet waiting for the count to continue.
"Not in the mood, I see," the count said, smiling at Ralph.
"Your third chance has come available," Reginald said calmly.
"You will not get another." All humor fell away from the Count's face as he spoke. "If you manage to mess this one up, I will end you myself."
"You are to take a horse and head back to Blanchard."
Ralph's eyebrows raised. "Blanchard?"
"Yes, some of the loose ends you have left untied, are on their way there as we speak. With a bonus for me."
"There are two people I want you to find and make disappear," the count spoke, raising one eyebrow. "And I want them to stay gone, do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Ralph nodded. Murder now, Ralph thought to himself as he sat across from the count. Upgrading from simple kidnapping, Ralph was disgusted with where he had allowed the count to push him. "Your horse is in the stable. They have a day's head start."
Ralph stood, his hand still stiff from the injury. With one last look at the Count, and then at Henry, Ralph bowed low and walked out of the Count's office.
The count watched as Ralph exited his office, grabbing another glass, he took the stopper from the canter and poured another drink. Taking a small sip, he sucked his teeth, enjoying the strong flavor. Looking back to the window, the count contemplated his next steps.