High upon the watchtower, a pair of guards did stand. Eyes on the horizon, for the bands of Rodhan men that might come marching across the land. Rampant rabbit set to snap at the van.

"Oy," one of them gave voice. An elbow nudged at his second. "You see that there?"

The second, craned his head lopsided, the rattle and tink of mailed chain. "That there smoke?"

"No burns set for the day,"

The clamor of the bell rang through the air.

"Best go tell the foreman,"

"Aye,"

A smack on the outside of arm. "Well,"

The other set back startled. "Well?"

"Get on with it!"

A jump in the bones. The bounce of head as heels came to settle and set to step down the stairs.
-
The song hung in the air. Bounced off the stones amidst the mining camp, and set to shake the sky above them. If only so long as the cinders danced, and the ash flakes fell in gentle flutter. The miners gathered round and watched that end they knew awaited them.

Silent as Nils fell into the flames.

How they crackled so bright and sweet. The tongues that waved and danced there. Across ash turned pine. Hiss and pop with wuthering breeze.

"We can't go on like this," Jona's voice spoke into the air.

In the distance, the canary sang her song behind her cage. Hop with wings abuzz, and feathers that fell heavy on the breeze. A loose line of bristling spears, and polished chain marched, two by two.

Lenry caught the gleam that had come off it in the corner of his eye. Might have been the bird's calls that caught him. Turned to see them. Put finger twixt lips and teeth and blew sharp whistle. One, two, three.

Baron's Men.
 
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It was mid morning. The foreman's house was in a green glen at the bottom of the hill. His wife didn't like him smoking in the parlor, so he sat on the porch with his ivory pipe. The view he had of the approaching guardsman was a long and lazy one. Puffs of smoke curled around the foreman's head as he watched the horse gallop down the road. A gallop didn't always mean an emergency. Sometimes the guards just liked to get out of their tower.

Red-faced, the guardsman stumbled down from the horse. He ducked into the shade of the porch, taking off his iron cap. "Ser," the guardsman panted out. Swallowed dry, and rasped out the words he'd been practicing all the way down the hill. "The miners are refusing to answer the work bell. We need orders to bring them into line."

"What's all this man, marching on the humblefolk?"

"They've got some sort of fire going--"

"Nonsense," the foreman interrupted him cheerfully. "They likely just need a bit of encouragement. We'll go up there with a barrel of brandy and pour a cup for the men who've met their quotas." The foreman took another puff, and nodded to himself. "Yes, just some encouragement. It's cheaper to make friends than enemies, that's what my granddad always said."

"Dear, who's that at the door?" The foreman's wife called out from an open window along the side of the house.

"It's only, ah, what's you're name, son?"

"Donak, ser." The guardsman said. He ran a thumb over the rivets of his cap, nervously. He felt as if he'd said the wrong thing.

"Donak, come help me with the carriage. We'll have this sorted out before the lunch bell."


The guardsmen were eighteen strong, two for every laborer in the mine plus two extra, since Nils wouldn't need no strong-arming anymore. Soldiering was a labor, too. They had matching scabbards with standard steel inside. Their caps all gleamed the same under the sunlight. They marched nine on either side of the horse and carriage that labored up the hill. The carriage's fat, round body swayed uneasy on thin wheels. Its groans of creaking protest came to a stop at the edge of the mining encampment.

A clanging of copper rang out across the mine's courtyard, the work bell hurrying its rhythm to harsher notes.

"Line up," called out a guard above the din of metal on metal. "Line up for the foreman's inspection!"
 

Mutters and groans as the pyre went on burning. The miners didn't move. Even as the boots marched on up. Filed out and formed a wall. The carriage loomed.

"Stay calm now, stay calm," Janu urged them on hushed whispers.

Berto already had a rock hammer snuck up his sleeve, and Mimli leaned on a pick axe.

"Its two to one now," Ro reminded them. He had served in the Baron's levies, or so the story went. Spoke like he knew a thing about it. "No chance in it, not like this," he muttered to Ari and Kohada.

"Come one now," Jona ushered. "Let's get it over with then," he turned his head to face the guardsman. Knew more of them than he didn't.

The door of the pumpkin shaped carriage cracked open with a creak. Too polished boots gleamed upon the first step, and out came the foreman. All smiles and soft curdled face.
 
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