The man's arrival was heralded by the heavy stomping of enormous boots, thudding through the south gate of Trestlebridge. The two guards stationed on either side regarded the giant figure with wide eyes as a chilly, autumn wind blustered in behind him, as if he carried the coming storm in his wake. His hood flapped about his red-bearded jaw, and his green eyes were cold and hard like stones. With his gaze fixed straight ahead, he passed down the street, and the sun's light was shut out by a blanket of slate-colored clouds, throwing the town into shadow.
The man veered off to the side once his mud-splattered boots had carried him through the humble square in the center of the village. The stable master looked up, and blinked in surprise at the sight of the figure approaching. He stepped forward quickly with a cordial, "Yes, sir?"
"The mares," rumbled the visitor in a voice that rolled like a quake beneath the earth. "Did they sell?" He came to stand over the stable master, looking down from his lofty height.
"They did, sir," replied the stableman, folding his hands together as the wind began to howl along the street, whipping up a flurry of fallen leaves in its path. "Fetched a very nice price, too. I-I have it here, of course." He turned and began moving towards the door nearby, leading into his living quarters beside the stable.
"Nay," replied the visitor as he lowered his eyes to the grey earth at his feet. "I want you to keep it. Give it to the mayor, or whoever is in charge of this gods forsaken town."
The stable master turned abruptly, gawking back at the taller fellow with his mouth agape. His greying hair tossed about in the breeze as he struggled for words. "A-all of it?" he finally managed.
"Aye," said the other, turning away again and setting his somber gaze southward. "All of it." With a roll of his broad, thick shoulders, he pulled the edges of his travel-stained cloak close beneath his throat. "Might as well have a mug of something for the road. You have an inn in this town?"
