Ingrandor jumped off his horse, walked it across the yard and tied the reins around a lamp post next to the nearest stone plinth. Hellrien followed his example.
”Do you intend to fight or talk?” Ingrandor asked.
Hellrien dusted her clothes and looked around. The construction site appeared dead indeed. Not a living soul around. Hellrien shrugged.
”I guess we should try talking first. Let's go up that platform to see if we can find anyone.”
”True”, Ingrandor said, looking around and far. He fixed his attention upon a peculiar bridge that connected two stone foundations to each other in the back of the work site. ”I feel that that bridge is needless.”
Hellrien’s boots crunched on the gravel. She heard faint sounds of discussion coming from one of the stone plinths in the back. The wooden stairs creaked miserably under their weight as Hellrien and Ingrandor climbed on the platform. Half a dozen sleepy workmen were sitting on a pile of lumber, eating their breakfast.
”Uuh, hello”, said Ingrandor. One of the men stood up and looked at them.
”What do you want?” the man asked.
”Just to chat a little”, said Hellrien.
”Taking a look?” Ingrandor added. ”Seeing if there are some friends about?”
The man took a couple of restless sidesteps. Hellrien started to fill the chamber of her pipe. From the corner of her eye she could see the workmen were weighing them up with leering eyes. They seemed frightened. Hellrien scratched a match and lit her pipe.
”How is the site going?” Ingrandor asked.
”It’s going just fine”, the workman responded reticently.
How strange, Hellrien thought. The hostility of the workers was almost tangible, but still they kept crouching stiffly on the pile of lumber. Then she noticed how their eyes kept glancing at their weapons.
”Good”, said Ingrandor. ”Did you have any unexpected visits lately?”
”Who wants to know?” the spokesman of the workers asked. ”Did Crampbark send you?”
”Maybe.”
”Can you tell us the fastest way to Dogwood's farm?” Hellrien asked in turn.
That was a question that brought forth a downright chilling breeze upon the plinth. The workers didn’t respond, they just sat there as silent as ever, slightly crouched, squeezing their sandwiches tightly in their brown and red fists. Ingrandor remained quiet, watching.
”Well, how about it?” Hellrien asked.
”Are you going to work there?” the spokesman queried.
”I don’t know.”
Two of the workmen stood up. ”Okay, Mr. Rosethorn, I think it's time for me and Kenton to go back to work now”, said one of them.
The spokesman turned. ”Sure thing, Carver.”
Ingrandor watched as the men left but kept quiet.
The other workers sat on the pile of lumber like statues. Wind howled in the corners. Hellrien dropped the ashes on the floor and put her pipe away.
”Right, what does one need to work there or here?” Ingrandor asked. ”Any special qualifications or knowledge?”
Hellrien’s horse neighed on the other side of the yard. Hellrien should have reacted to that, but the workers’ peculiar fear perplexed her mind too much. Then Ingrandor said:
”Oh hey.”
He looked around and then at Hellrien. His right hand was reaching the handle of his sword. Hellrien kept her eyes fixed on the workers in front of her. They kept sitting still and stared at something behind Hellrien and Ingrandor.
Heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel of the yard, coming closer.
”You are not going anywhere”, said Rosethorn. ”Stay still.”
”Fun time, at last”, Ingrandor said to Hellrien in a low voice. ”I was getting bored.”
Hellrien cursed quietly to herself at her blunder. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Kenton and Carver were back, holding sledgehammers in their hands. A door to one of the workers’ cottages opened and three more men poured outside, armed with sledgehammers, pickaxes and shovels. They crossed the yard quickly and the biggest of them, wielding a sledgehammer, took the lead and rose the steps to the platform. Two others followed closely behind. Carver and Kenton remained at the root of the stairs.
”Take their weapons, Rosethorn”, said the biggest man with a sledgehammer.
”I ain’t giving mine”, Ingrandor murmured to Hellrien. ”It is time to draw them.”
The workmen started inching closer, and Ingrandor drew his sword from it’s sheath and the shield from his back. Hellrien drew her own sword and dagger and swung the blade in wide arch in front of the approaching workers on the platform, forcing them to retreat back to the lumber pile. In the meanwhile Ingrandor was facing the crowd climbing the stairs.
”No more niceties, eh?” he said. ”Come here!”
A grin adorned the face of the biggest workman. ”I’ve been waiting for this – you bastards!”
The man swung the sledgehammer with full force towards Ingrandor’s face. Ingrandor raised his shield to protect himself and the sledgehammer clamored against it, the force of impact pushing Ingrandor to take a couple of steps back. He drew his breath, lowered his shield slightly and stepped up, slashing his sword across the lunk’s chest. The blade ripped a flesh wound across his unprotected, bulging chest muscles and sent the goon backwards. He toppled over two of his friends standing right behind him, and all three rolled down the stairs to the feet of Carver and Kenton, who took a step back, mouths agape.
”I will take the idiots with the sledgehammers”, Ingrandor said. ”Who uses them in company anyway.”
He ran down the stairs, passing through two or three stairs at once. Before hitting the ground he turned in the air and landed a few steps away from Carver and Kenton. He swiped with the shield to push aside Kenton, who was standing closest to him. ”Too slow!” he shouted.
The hulk’s wound was not serious, but it was bleeding profusely and seeing their champion in such a state and the sheer ferociousness and speed of Ingrandor’s attack had quickly demoralized the others. Kenton fell down when he was slammed with a shield and dropped his sledgehammer too. The hulk’s friends quickly got up and retreated before Ingrandor, as did Carver.
”Oh come on”, said Ingrandor, ”If you can’t take it… run away.”
”All of you”, Hellrien yelled from the top of the stairs, ”drop your weapons or heads will fall!”
Ingrandor slammed his sword against his shield and took a step back. A grin formed on his lips, his eyes were gleaming, he was ready to kill. The workmen understood that even Ingrandor wouldn’t stand much chance if they all attacked him at the same time… the only problem was that nobody was willing to take that first step and commit an obvious suicide. Grumbling and muttering they dropped their makeshift weapons on the ground. Ingrandor struggled not to let his head drop in disappointment and turned to Hellrien to see how she fared.
”Okay, everyone get up here so I can see you all at the same time!” Hellrien ordered.
Ingrandor pointed at the stairs with his sword. ”What she said.”
One by one the men moved over to the stairs and climbed it. Kenton and Carver helped the hulk up to his feet and to the stairs. His legs were shaky, but he was just coming to the realization that he was not about to die after all. Everyone sat down on the pile of lumber again. Ingrandor threw the shield over his shoulder but kept his sword in hand. He positioned himself next to a pillar and kept an eye on their surroundings to make sure nobody else would come to surprise them.
Hellrien suddenly sheathed her weapons. ”What is going on in this place? What the hell is your problem, men? Speak up!”
”I suggest you answer”, Ingrandor added.
Rosethorn fixed a pair of glowering eyes at Hellrien. ”You rotten thugs!” he spat. ”Like you don't know! You're going to work for Crampbark!”
”No we are not. We don't even know who he is. Does he have something to do with Dogwood's farm?”
Finally the workers began to speak, slowly and cautiously at first, but little by little Hellrien and Ingrandor got to hear their whole story. The construction site was owned by a man called Robb Thornley, who also owned the farm to their north. Thornley owned a lot of land and he had set his mind on building one of the largest farmsteads in Bree-land. Dogwood’s farm was their southern neighbor, though lately the farm had received new owners and nobody had seen or heard about Ray Dogwood or his family since Eilert Crampbark had taken over the farm, and a persistent rumor claimed that the Dogwoods lied buried in their potato field. Crampbark had set his eyes upon Thornley’s lands and made an absolutely ridiculous bid for their farm and lands. Naturally the Thornleys had declined, and Crampbark had not taken kindly to the rejection. Soon after that the threats and sabotage had begun – tools and equipment went missing, fences were broken and tipped over and some of the workers were beaten up in the dead of night by unidentified assailants. Lately Crampbark had started to expand his own workforce, but instead of capable workers and farmhands he seemed to favor recruiting wandering ruffians and adventurers. Thornleys were now worried that it was only a matter of time before they would share the fate of the Dogwoods and wind up growing weed in a shallow grave in their backyard.
Hellrien nodded ponderously after the picture had cleared up for her. ”Ingrandor... anything you want to ask?”
”Not really”, he said. ”But one thing. Is there any reward for driving him out? He doesn't sound like a gem that someone would miss really.”
”I reckon that's where Seyton Redweed was going... to Dogwood's farm”, Hellrien speculated. ”Maybe he's going to work for this Crampbark?”
”Do you know that name?” Ingrandor asked the workers. ”Maybe he's one of Campbark's enforcers?”
”Redweed?” Rosethorn repeated. ”Never heard the name before. You have to talk to the Thornleys about rewards and such, we just work here.”
”Alright then.” Ingrandor nodded and sheathed his sword. ”Good work here by the way. But the bridge... why?!”
